"Endless echoes of people begging for help... crying in hopelessness.
The world has begun to change."
A woman cloaked in shadow, her fingers resting gently on worn tarot cards, whispered to the man before her. Her eyes, half-lidded, seemed to look beyond the present.
The man didn't flinch. He simply nodded—calm, as though he'd expected her words.
---
"Alaric!"
"Yes?"
"Where are you going?"
"I need to grab something for dinner."
"Dinner?" Her voice rose, surprised.
"Umm… yes."
"It's nearly midnight. Why didn't you eat earlier?"
"I just… had something to do."
Their voices echoed down the dimly lit street. The world around them was hushed—silent save for their conversation. The city slept, but they were awake.
"You shouldn't be eating this late. You know that, right?"
She softened her tone, her eyes flicking up to the moon.
The girl—likely in her twenties—had just returned from work, the weariness still in her steps.
"I know," Alaric replied. Calm. Unbothered.
He stood tall, youthful—but something in his stillness made him seem older than he looked.
She sighed and walked past him, shaking her head.
"I'll be waiting at home," she called over her shoulder. "Don't take forever."
He didn't answer. Just kept walking.
---
Above, the crimson moon glowed faintly behind the clouds, like an omen too tired to reveal itself.
Something in the air was… off.
A pressure. A hum.
But Alaric Ravenhurst didn't seem to notice—or perhaps, he chose not to.
Hunger drowned out all other instincts.
---
By the time he returned, Amilia Ravenhurst had already laid out dinner.
"Gonna cry from starvation?" she teased, arms crossed.
"The day I cry," Alaric said, sinking into his chair,
"is the day I lose myself—and my life."
He ate quickly, barely tasting the food.
As soon as he finished, he vanished into his room without a word.
Wasn't it too late for a teenager with school tomorrow?
Amilia glanced at the ticking clock, her smile fading into a sigh.
"…I hope he's not always like this."
---
Alaric stared up at the ceiling, his thoughts drifting with no clear direction. Crimson moonlight streamed through the window frame, as if it were trying to whisper something to him. Knowing he couldn't stay awake much longer, Alaric drifted into sleep within moments.
---
"Agh... my head..."
"It hurts..."
He forced himself to sit up, every movement draining his energy. As his vision cleared, confusion hit him—he was in a place he had never seen before.
Clouds rolled below him. It looked like the peak of the tallest mountain.
"Where... am I?"
Alaric scanned his surroundings. There was nothing but a vast expanse—and a single, massive, lonely tree standing in the middle.
Beneath the tree, he noticed someone.
At first, he thought it was just a dream—after all, he had felt dizzy before falling asleep. Still, he cautiously approached, trying to make sense of it.
As he drew nearer, he could see the figure more clearly. A man, dressed in a magician's cloak.
"Hello... may I ask where I am?" Alaric asked, his voice careful but steady.
No response. Only silence.
The wind whispered between them, rustling leaves and lifting the man's hat.
It fell to the ground—and Alaric froze.
He was staring at himself.
Shock rooted him to the spot. He couldn't speak, couldn't breathe.
Then, the figure broke the silence.
"Alaric Ravenhurst, right?"
A faint smile played on his lips.