The young man extended his hand.
A box of smoke emerged from his palm, slowly expanding across the table like ink spilling into water. It was not ordinary smoke: it had density, texture, intention.
Iztli stepped to my side and growled softly, protective, before the smoke could spread beyond the table.
—But I've seen people die because of fear —I said firmly, like someone opening a forbidden chest out of pure need to understand—. How can fear be the desire to live?
He tilted his head.
—I said it was the desire to live… not that it was life.
His tired gaze sharpened. A subtle, almost mocking smile appeared on his face.
—Fear is something every living being possesses by nature. It exists to keep you alive.
The smoke began to take shape.
A fox chasing a rabbit.
The rabbit, frightened, ran faster, stronger, driven by instinct.
—Fear does not guarantee life —he continued—. It only awakens the potential necessary to preserve it.
The fox disappeared.
—The real question is… what does each person understand by living?
I swallowed.
—Doesn't it simply mean being alive… here… breathing?
I wanted to touch the smoke in front of me. I didn't.
—Not necessarily.
The smoke shifted.
Now it showed a person chained, tortured. The screams echoed in the studio. They were not real, but they were not harmless illusions either. They felt real.
—For him —the young man said—, living stopped meaning breathing. His desire to live changed. Living now means no longer feeling pain.
The scene shifted again.
The same figure, inside a cell, preparing to hang himself.
—For him, freedom is life. And if freedom only exists in death… then that is where he believes he will feel alive again.
The figure appeared suspended.
Though they were only silhouettes of smoke, the impact was real.
I felt like I couldn't breathe.
I quickly moved my tablet and read the live comments.
"This got too dark.""I don't want to hear more… but I can't stop.""I'm hiding under my blankets.""If fear is the desire to live, why does it change so much?"
Those voices anchored me.
I wasn't alone.
—But that doesn't make sense —I said, trying to keep my voice steady—. We're taught to face our fears. Some diminish over time. Others grow. Doesn't that contradict what you're saying?
The young man leaned back in his chair, playing with his grotesque stuffed toy.
—Fear never disappears —he replied calmly—. It only changes form. Strong people are not those who feel no fear. They are those who choose what to fear.
The smoke returned.
A mother throwing herself in front of a car to save her child.
—She fears her child's death more than her own.
A soldier on the battlefield.
—He fears being called a coward more than dying from a bullet.
A musician in front of thousands of people.
—He fears living without purpose more than failing before an audience.
The images dissolved.
—Each person defines what living means. For some it is safety. For others, honor. For others, freedom. Fear only reveals what they truly consider important.
I remained silent.
I felt something shift inside me.
There were people who valued something more than their own lives.
And thinking that fear would never disappear… made me tremble.
It was as if every self-help book, every motivational quote, began to lose strength.
—But we don't always feel fear —I insisted—. Children don't perceive it the same way. Psychopaths don't seem to have it. How can you say everyone has it?
He laughed softly.
The smoke began spreading across the floor.
—Fear never disappears —he said, his voice deeper now—. Some simply choose not to recognize it.
The atmosphere grew heavier.
Voices began to whisper.
If I don't pass the exam, my life is over.If they publish that video, I won't be able to go on.I'm more afraid of staying like this than changing.I love him… but I can't say it.I'm afraid of being alone.I'm afraid of trying.
The voices surrounded the room like living fog.
Iztli tensed. Flames began consuming the smoke, but they could barely keep up with its rhythm.
—Those who claim they have no fear… are the most dangerous —the young man continued, straightening up—. Because it means they have nothing to lose. And whoever has nothing to lose… has no reason to live… nor to die.
The fog thickened.
Green ribbons appeared around his figure—the containment bands activating.
—It doesn't matter if they are humans, angels, or demons —he said firmly—. Everyone fears something.
The voices grew clearer.
—I am the first to arrive when they are born —he continued—. And the last to leave when they die.
The smoke vibrated.
—I am the invisible perimeter that defines their limits. I am the one who hears their true desires when no one else can. I am the lake where they see themselves without masks.
The smoke slowly began to dissipate.
—I am what remains when appearances break. I am the one who knows their deepest pains. I am the one who protects what they love.
Silence.
—I am the only one who will always be by their side.
And then…
He disappeared.
No smoke.
No figure.
No trace.
Only the empty chair in front of me.
The studio remained still.
No breathing.
No movement.
Until the announcer's voice echoed.
—That concludes tonight's interview. This was Midnight Frequencies with your interviewer, Izel. We hope you enjoyed the broadcast.
The lights slowly returned to their normal intensity.
The transmission ended.
But something did not end there.
Across the city, that same night, emergency calls began to register.
People fainting for no apparent reason.Others waking the next day and acting differently.Families claiming their children, spouses, or parents "were not the same."
And throughout the following week, the reports continued.
As if something invisible had stirred something deep.
As if someone had forced the entire city…
to confront what they feared most.