Darkness stretches endlessly. A strange mist coils around the broken remains of an ancient temple, whispering secrets to those who dare listen. The air is thick-charged with unseen power, shifting like a living thing.
Two figures stand facing each other in the middle of this otherworldly space, with blades on their hands, their robes billowing in the unseen wind, shadows flickering against the dim glow of floating lanterns.
Sasha, her breath ragged, clutches her side where blood stains the fabric of her once pristine robes. Her golden eyes, filled with sorrow and defiance, lock onto the woman before her.
Ursula, standing tall and unshaken, watches Sasha with a look that is neither anger nor pity-only cold determination. Her Jet black hair gleams under the strange, shifting lights, her hands stained with blood holding the sword's hilt tight with some forbidden magic glow.
"We were never meant to stand against each other, little sister." Ursula's voice was smooth, almost amused.
"And still we are here, big sister." Sasha exhales sharply, steadying herself despite the pain.
Ursula chuckles and says, "You should have accepted fate when there was time," and throws another attack with her sword.
Sasha blocked it, but was so weak that she barely had enough energy to stand still. "Fate? Is that what you call your madness?" She lifts her gaze to see Ursula. Ursula laughs, "How weak… You had a chance to live in power with someone powerful, but you chose to live as a coward."
Sasha attacked Ursula, but it was not very strong. Ursula easily defended herself and kicked Sasha. She fell to her knees. Ursula put the sword to Sasha's neck, but Sasha was not afraid. She looked her directly in her violet-red eyes and said, "You always seek power, Ursula, but was it ever truly yours? Or are you still manipulating another demon?"
For a moment, silence stretched between them.
The mist swirled tighter. The temple stones beneath their feet groaned, as if the very realm was reacting to their presence.
Ursula slapped Sasha hard across the face.
"Enough!"
Sasha collapsed to the cold ground, her cheek stinging, blood pooling at the corner of her lips. But her eyes held no fear—only defiance.
Ursula leaned closer, her voice low and venomous. A flicker of something dark shimmered in her eyes.
"You still don't understand, do you? You never did."
She gritted her teeth. "This world doesn't belong to the weak, Sasha. The moment you betrayed us, turned your back on what we could've been... you chose your fate."
Sasha let out a shaky, bitter laugh.
"Ursula, I always admired how desperately you tried to please him. But he lived and died with me. His fate was always bound to mine."
Her voice softened, layered with pain.
"And deep down… you've always known that."
Ursula's expression darkened.
"Say his name," she growled, "and I will rip that mouth of yours."
But Sasha only smiled and slowly closed her eyes, as if surrendering to the inevitable.
"You'll never find him."
Ursula froze.
Then, with ice in her voice, she asked,
"For the last time—where is it, Sasha?"
Silence.
Ursula grabbed her by the collar, yanking her close.
"Where did you hide his soul?"
Sasha's eyes opened—glistening with tears, defiance, and a secret she would carry to the grave.
"You'll have to kill me to find out."
Ursula's lips curled into a twisted smile.
"Oh, don't worry. I intend to."
She drove the blade through Sasha's chest.
Sasha gasped. Her lips moved, whispering one final truth:
"I love you."
Ursula let out a guttural scream as Sasha collapsed, lifeless.
And then… the laughter came.
Sharp. Unhinged. Wild.
Ursula laughed like a woman completely unmoored from sanity.
"He is mine. He always will be!"
She crouched beside Sasha's still body, trembling with fury.
"You think this is the end? That I'll let you die peacefully?"
She leaned in, her voice a haunting whisper,
"Your soul… will be stuck with me. Forever."
She raised her arms to the sky, a scream tearing from her throat,
"FOREVER!"
The word echoed across the void—sharp and endless,
a curse burning through time.
A sharp gasp—air rushed back into her lungs.
Akira jolted upright, as if something deep within her had just awakened.
Her fingers dug into the desk, her whole body trembling as a wave of cold goosebumps crawled across her skin.
Stray strands of dark brown hair, tinged with subtle red undertones, clung to her damp forehead.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly—each breath a struggle—while the storm still echoed in her violet eyes.
For a heartbeat, the world around her was blurred, distant.
And then, a voice—that voice—whispered at the edge of her consciousness.
"Akira?"
A sharp, unimpressed voice cut through the fog.
She blinked. The entire class was staring at her.
"You okay, Akira?" Akira turned to see Isabella leaning toward her, brows drawn together in quiet concern. Her long curls were pulled into a loose ponytail, and the soft golden hue of her eyes always seemed to catch the light, warm, grounding. She had that calm, steady energy, like she could slow down time just by being near.
Akira nodded quickly, brushing her hair behind her ear, trying to laugh it off. "Yeah, yeah, just… a weird dream."
Isabella didn't press. She just slid her notebook closer to Akira and whispered, "You only missed five minutes of Mr. Dsouza being boring, so you're good."
"You sure?" a voice from behind teased, low and warm—familiar.
Akira turned her head slightly, and there he was—Austin, leaning back in his chair like he hadn't a care in the world. His lean frame was draped in the school's half-buttoned uniform shirt, sleeves rolled up lazily. Tousled dark hair fell just above his striking deep hazel eyes, which gleamed with mischief even when he wasn't smiling—though, right now, he was. And that smile? The one that could get him out of detention with a single flash?
"Yeah, and could you button up your shirt? Izzy and I don't want to be crowded again by girls asking about you," Akira muttered, rolling her eyes.
Isabella snorted a laugh—because honestly, it was true. Austin was basically the school's unofficial K-pop idol: effortlessly handsome, with a smile that could stop hearts. He was cute, cool, and maddeningly unaware of the chaos he caused. Every day, his desk turned into a mini shrine, piled with gifts—soya milk, ice cream, buns, little notes, you name it. And yet? He didn't care. Despite being the most popular guy in school, Austin mostly kept to himself.
Though… once in a blue moon, he'd get oddly expressive—charming with everyone, a sudden burst of friendliness that made people wonder if he secretly enjoyed the attention after all.
"Ahem," a loud voice came from the front. Mr. D'souza said "focus," and Austin swallowed the words he wanted to say.
But even as the classroom slowly returned to its usual buzz, Akira couldn't shake the weight pressing down on her chest. Her fingers still tingled with static, and that voice—soft, ancient, and aching—kept echoing in the back of her mind.
She didn't realize she was staring until Austin leaned in, his voice quiet but steady.
"You sure you're okay?"
Akira blinked. His deep-hazel eyes were locked on hers, steady and calm, and for a second—just a flash—she fell down on her thoughts.
She shook the thought away, forcing a breath through her lips.
"Yeah. Just tired," she muttered.
The bell rang, and Isabella jumped to her feet.
"Tired or not, food calls," she said, grabbing Akira's hand and yanking her out of her seat.
"Come on. Food therapy fixes everything. Even creepy dreams."
Austin trailed behind, sipping from a juice box like the drama hadn't just happened.
"You guys act like I'm the only one making a deal out of it," he grumbled.
"You are," Akira and Isabella said in perfect unison.
He nearly choked on his juice, and Isabella gave him a victorious grin.
"And button your shirt, Romeo. We don't need the crowd multiplying today."
Austin muttered, brushing his hair back dramatically. "Excuse me for being the main character," he said with a mock gasp. "Blame genetics, not me."
They both just don't understand whether to laugh or cry, so they just rolled their eyes and walked away.
Austin shoved his hands into his pockets, acting like nothing happened—like a trail of sass followed him wherever he went.
Despite the teasing, a small, unguarded smile tugged at Akira's lips as they stepped into the afternoon sun
The courtyard buzzed with life—students laughing, eating, and gossiping. Everything felt normal.
Too normal.
She glanced over her shoulder. No reason. Just instinct.
And across the campus grounds, just beyond the school boundary wall where the light thinned under the shade of an old tree… someone was standing.
Still. Silent. Watching.
The face was hidden by a hood. But their presence was sharp, like a knife at her spine. And when Akira blinks, trying to focus on the same spot…but nothing is there, no one, which makes her more uncomfortable and confused.
The warmth of the sun suddenly felt too far away.
After lunch, the rest of the day crawled by like a shadow too long in the sun. By the time the final bell rang, Akira had already packed her bag twice, tapping her pen against her notebook just to stay focused.
She wasn't sure why her heart kept fluttering at random moments. Maybe it was a dream. Maybe it was the weird presence of the tree. Or maybe it was the feeling that her skin didn't quite fit right all day, like something underneath was trying to breathe through it.
As she stepped out of the school gate, the sky had turned that pale gold just before sunset—when everything looked softer but somehow more fragile too.
Austin jogged up beside her, tossing her bag over his shoulder.
"I'll drop you," he said casually, like it wasn't a big deal.
"You look… I don't know, off today."
"Gee, thanks," Akira muttered, stuffing her earphones into her pocket.
Then, with a half-smirk, she added, "Shouldn't you be off finding your boyfriend before he gets cranky?"
Austin replied with a smile, "Jealous…" Then, with a wink, he said, "You know I love you the most."
"Okay, okay, you drag queen," she laughed. "Just don't ignore him. I don't need a reason to kick his ass if he gives you a reason to be sad. And besides, I'm fine. Just tired."
"Yeah, you keep saying that."
"Because it's true."
Austin raised a brow, clearly unconvinced.
"Fine. But if you get abducted by aliens or cursed by some ghosts tonight, I'm gonna say 'I told you so' at your funeral."
She laughed under her breath, tossing her bag off Austin's shoulder, rolling her eyes.
"Noted. Goodbye, overly dramatic baby."
She waved him off and turned the corner.
The moment she was out of his sight, the lightness left her step.
The street wasn't empty, but it wasn't full either. Just a couple of people here and there, cars passing, a kid on a bicycle. Normal things.
But her breath hitched when she turned onto the narrower alley that led toward her neighborhood—a shortcut she always took. Something felt… off.
Her steps slowed. She glanced behind.
No one.
And yet—there it was again. That tightness at the back of her neck. Like something was just one step behind her.
She paused, listening.
Nothing but the faint rustle of leaves and the distant hum of passing cars.
She forced a laugh to herself, shaking her head.
"I'm overreacting," she whispered.
"It's nothing."
She kept walking, faster this time, fingers curled around the strap of her bag.
Still… she never let her guard down until she was inside her gate, with the latch locked and the world sealed off behind her.
Leaning on the gate, Akira let out a slow breath as the tension in her shoulders began to slip away.
The house stood just ahead—an old, slightly worn two-story with blue-painted shutters, so many small plants, a flower vase, and a stubborn little wind chime that never stopped clinking even when there was no wind. The porch light flickered once as she stepped onto the path.
"You're late," a voice called from somewhere above.
Akira looked up just in time to dodge the orange flying at her face.
"Dad?" she sighed, catching it effortlessly mid-air.
Joseph leaned on the railing of the first-floor balcony, grinning like a boy caught with slingshot trouble. His salt-and-pepper hair was tied in a messy half-knot, and the day's heat had left a sweat and mud mark across the collar of his faded white shirt, probably just planting more plants. Sharp eyes, the same gold-brown as Akira's, watched her with quiet mischief.
"What? You were daydreaming again. I had to keep you on your toes," he said, tossing her another—this time, an apple. She caught that, too.
"Pretty sure there are better parenting methods than chucking fruit at your kid."
"Oh, come on. You're smiling."
She was.
Because this was their thing. Ever since she was little, Joseph had trained her reflexes using anything he could grab—a sock, a spoon, a pencil. It started as a game, but as she grew older, he never stopped. And neither did she.
Her reflexes were excellent now. Unnaturally so.
"Alright, sensei," she mocked, stepping inside. "You get one flying object per day. Max."
"That's what you said yesterday, too," Joseph muttered, ducking back inside.
She could already hear him heading toward the kitchen.
"Dinner in twenty. Go change."
Akira nodded and headed to her room. It didn't look like a typical girl's room at all. The walls were lined with boyish posters, a simple study table sat beneath the window, and the curtain drapes were in muted, neutral tones. She had always felt that growing up with her father had shaped her interests — not traditionally "girly." She liked bikes, sharp knives, and dressed in tomboyish clothes — jeans, oversized t-shirts, and button-downs that made her look like someone from another era.
The shadows. The dream. Forgotten for now.
She sank into the chair by her study table and gazed out at the moonlight pouring through the window. Being near her father always brought her a strange sense of peace — like no harm could ever reach her, not while he was around.
She remembered the times she was teased for not having a mother. It used to hurt, until Austin had stood up for her and taught the bully a lesson she never forgot. Since then, they'd been inseparable.
Sometimes she wondered about her mother — though there was nothing left of her. No photograph. No memory. Just silence. Her father rarely spoke of her, and whenever Akira asked, he would dodge the question. As a child, Akira would get angry, stubbornly pushing for answers. But as she grew older, she began to notice the shift in his expression — the way his cheerful face turned quiet, shadowed by sorrow. So, eventually, she stopped asking.
Now, she found herself thinking... Maybe it was okay. Maybe it was better this way. She was happy with her father — more than happy. And perhaps that was enough. Maybe she didn't need a mother after all.
Closing her eyes, she let the night breeze wash over her, and gently pushed the thought away.
Akira rested her chin on her hand, her gaze tracing the moonlight as it painted silver lines across the floor. The night was quiet, so still it almost felt frozen in time. The familiar hum of the ceiling fan, the faint rustling of leaves outside, her father's quiet movements from the kitchen... it was all so ordinary. Comforting.
Her eyes fluttered closed.
She thought, Maybe it's okay… not knowing everything. Maybe some questions are better left with the moon.
The breeze brushed against her cheek through the slightly cracked window, and she sighed, feeling sleep start to tug at her limbs. She stood slowly, stretching, and turned to draw the curtains shut.
But just before she touched the fabric, a shiver crawled down her spine.
A flicker of movement.
There—by the fence, beneath the cover of trees—a shadow.
Still. Watching.
She blinked, heart quickening. But when she looked again, there was nothing. Just the gentle sway of branches and the moonlit garden beyond.
Akira frowned, shook her head, and muttered, "I'm just tired… overthinking again."
She pulled the curtains closed, turned off the light, and walked out of the room, never noticing the faint glint of eyes—unblinking, ancient, watching her from the trees. Hidden beneath a hood, and waiting.