Yuna and I sat at the dining room table in the orphanage, the quiet hum of the building around us failing to dispel the heavy atmosphere. The chairs creaked softly as we shifted, our expressions clouded with concern and confusion. A few orphanage staff bustled in the kitchen nearby, preparing the evening meal, their chatter and clattering of utensils a stark contrast to the tension between us.
I rested my chin on my intertwined hands, my eyes narrowed in thought.
"That tall figure in the church… it's not the same one we saw in the forest," I said quietly, my voice low enough that only Yuna could hear.
Yuna, sitting across from me, nodded, her hands resting nervously on the table.
"I thought the same thing. This one felt… less hostile, but still terrifying. And it was so sudden… like it disappeared into thin air. Where could it have gone?"
I leaned back, crossing my arms.
"More importantly, where did the missing children go? That figure must have something to do with it. And Sister Mari, why does she act like nothing happened? None of this makes sense."
Yuna hesitated, biting her lip.
"Tatsuo, do you think…" she paused, her voice trembling slightly, "...do you think the children might have been taken by someone working with that figure?"
My brow furrowed deeper.
"It's possible. But we're missing too many pieces. And something about the way Sister Mari and the other kids acted, it's like their memories were erased. Or altered."
Yuna's eyes widened.
"Could it be magic? I've heard stories about spells that can mess with your memories."
I nodded grimly.
"If that's the case, then whoever or whatever we're dealing with is skilled in advanced magic. That narrows things down, but not by much. It doesn't explain why the children were targeted or what they're being used for."
Yuna's gaze dropped to the table.
"Do you think this has something to do with the missing children?"
I didn't respond immediately, my expression darkening as her earlier mention of memory alteration stirred something in my mind. A piece of knowledge, long buried, clicked into place.
Mind magic.
It was a type of advanced magic I knew well, magic I had encountered countless times in my battles against vampires. Mind magic was primarily used in combat, a devastating tool to confuse enemies, implant fear, or force them to act against their will. But as I pieced things together, a chilling realization dawned on me: vampires didn't limit their use of Mind magic to combat alone.
My stomach churned at the implications.
If they're using Mind magic outside of battle… manipulating memories, erasing traces of their actions… then this is far worse than I thought.
I clenched my fists under the table, keeping my expression neutral for Yuna's sake. I didn't want to alarm her, not yet. But my mind raced with the horrifying possibilities. Mind magic was rare and difficult to wield, requiring a tremendous amount of skill and precision. The fact that someone, possibly vampires, was using it in the orphanage meant they were more calculated and dangerous than I had ever imagined.
This isn't random, I realized.
Whoever's behind this knows exactly what they're doing. They're covering their tracks, erasing witnesses, and leaving no room for mistakes.
Yuna's soft voice broke through my thoughts.
"Tatsuo? Are you okay?"
I snapped back to the present, offering her a small nod.
"I'm fine. Just… thinking."
Her concerned gaze lingered on me, but she didn't press further. I forced myself to focus. There wasn't time to panic. If vampires or whoever this mysterious figure was were using Mind magic to take children and manipulate memories, then the situation was spiraling into something far more sinister than I had initially realized.
My resolve hardened.
They think they can hide in the shadows, but they're wrong. I'll find the truth. And I'll stop them before they hurt anyone else.
For now, I kept my thoughts to myself. Explaining Mind magic to Yuna would only lead to more questions, and I wasn't ready to share everything yet. But one thing was certain, tonight, when we searched the church, I would be prepared.
I leaned back slightly in my chair, gathering my thoughts before answering Yuna's question. The faint glow of the candlelight on the dining table cast long shadows across the room, adding to the weight of our conversation.
"I think…"
I began, my voice low but steady, "The tall figure might be behind the disappearances."
Yuna's eyes widened slightly, but she stayed quiet, allowing me to continue.
"They could have taken the children for some purpose," I explained.
"But it doesn't stop there. If what Sister Mari said is true, then that figure also did something to her and the other children. Something that tampered with their memories, maybe even altered them entirely."
Yuna's hands gripped the edge of the table tightly, her knuckles whitening.
"You mean… the missing children could still be alive? That they were… taken instead of..."
She hesitated, unable to say the word killed.
"It's possible," I admitted, though I didn't want to give her false hope.
"But if they're using memory manipulation, it's not just about hiding their tracks. They have a reason for it, something that goes deeper than just abduction."
Yuna's face paled.
"What kind of reason would someone have for kidnapping children and wiping memories? That's… that's monstrous."
My eyes narrowed as I stared at the table, my mind racing.
"It could be anything. Experiments, rituals, or even something tied to the missing children's potential abilities. If they're erasing memories, they want to keep something hidden, either what they've done or what they're planning to do."
Yuna's voice shook slightly.
"But why here? And why didn't they take everyone? Wouldn't it be easier to just…"
She stopped herself, the thought too horrifying to finish.
My jaw clenched as I considered her question.
"There's a pattern here, even if we don't see it yet. Maybe Sister Mari and the others were left behind for a reason, or maybe the figure didn't see them as a threat. Whatever the case, this wasn't random. And that's what makes it so dangerous."
Yuna lowered her gaze, her expression troubled.
"We have to find out what happened to those children. We can't just sit here and wait for something worse to happen."
I nodded, my resolve firm.
"We will. But first, we need more information. Tonight, when we search the church, we'll be looking for anything, anything that points to what this figure is after. If the memories are altered, there might still be traces of magic left behind. I'll be able to sense it."
I didn't mention my suspicion about Mind magic being involved, but the thought lingered at the forefront of my mind. If this was indeed the work of vampires, or something worse, we needed to tread carefully.
Yuna gave me a determined nod, her fear giving way to quiet resolve.
"Then let's do it. We'll find the truth and save the children, no matter what it takes."
I felt a pang of admiration for her bravery. Despite everything, Yuna's heart remained steadfast. I stood, reaching for the training sword I had propped against the wall.
"Let's prepare," I said.
"We'll need to be ready for anything."
Yuna stood as well, her hand brushing against the simple wooden sword she used for practice.
"Tatsuo… promise me one thing."
I turned to her, my dark eyes meeting hers.
"Promise me we won't give up on them. No matter how bad it gets."
I didn't hesitate.
"I promise."
As we gathered our things, the weight of the promise hung heavy between us. The night ahead would be long, and the answers we sought would likely bring more danger than clarity. But for now, we had a mission: to uncover the truth and protect the people who needed us most.
I pushed my chair into the table, the legs scraping softly against the wooden floor. I could feel Yuna's gaze lingering on me, and when I looked up, her expression was curious yet hesitant, as though she was piecing something together.
"Tatsuo…" she began, her voice soft but tinged with uncertainty.
"You said you'd be able to sense magic tonight. When did you learn how to do that?"
I froze for a split second, my mind scrambling.
Damn, I thought. I let that slip.
Sensing magic wasn't something ordinary people could do; it was the first step to mastering any form of magic. And for an 8-year-old child with no formal training to claim such a skill… it wasn't something I could easily explain.
I scratched the back of my head, trying to keep my expression neutral.
"Uh… well, it's not like I've mastered it or anything," I said quickly.
"It's more like… a feeling I get sometimes. You know, like when the air feels strange, and you can tell something's off."
Yuna raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.
"That's still pretty advanced for someone our age. Most people can't sense magic without proper training." She paused, leaning forward slightly.
"Have you… been practicing magic in secret or something?"
I cursed internally. Yuna was sharp, and her curiosity wasn't something I could easily brush off. I needed to come up with an explanation that wouldn't raise more questions.
"I wouldn't call it practicing," I said slowly, carefully choosing my words.
"But sometimes, when I'm out in the forest or just… thinking about stuff, I get these weird sensations. Like, I'll notice when the wind feels heavier or when the ground feels warmer than it should. I figured it might be something to do with magic, but I haven't really told anyone."
Yuna tilted her head, studying him intently.
"That's… unusual," she admitted.
"But it does sound like the start of magic sensing. You've been noticing changes in the environment, like elemental energy around you." She frowned slightly.
"Still, it's strange that it's happening without any training. Magic doesn't just… awaken like that."
I nodded, keeping my face serious.
"Yeah, it's strange for me too. Honestly, I don't know why it happens."
I could feel the weight of the lie pressing against me. While everything I said was technically true, it wasn't the full story. The truth was that my ability to sense magic came from years of experience in my past life, honing my skills through relentless training and battles. Pretending to be an ordinary child while holding onto all that knowledge wasn't easy, and moments like this reminded me just how thin the line was that I walked.
Yuna leaned back slightly, her expression softening.
"I guess you've always been a little different, Tatsuo," she said with a small smile.
"But it's not a bad thing. Maybe you were just born with a talent for magic."
I forced a chuckle, hoping to steer the conversation away from myself.
"Maybe. But I wouldn't call it a talent just yet. I still have a lot to learn."
Yuna nodded, seemingly satisfied for now.
"Well, if you're already able to sense magic, maybe you'll start learning how to use it soon. That'd be amazing, having someone with magic in the village. You'd be the first!"
I gave her a faint smile, grateful that she was no longer pressing me for answers.
"We'll see," I said.
"But for now, let's focus on what's in front of us. Tonight's going to be tricky enough without worrying about my so-called 'magic talent.'"
Yuna laughed softly, the tension in the room easing.
"Fair enough. But don't think you're off the hook. If you start using magic out of nowhere, I'm going to want a full explanation."
I smiled again, this time more genuinely.
"Deal."
****
As I gathered my things, I watched Tatsuo step out of the dining room, his movements deliberate but quiet as the wooden floorboards creaked faintly under his weight. I followed close behind, my thoughts swirling like a restless storm.
He's hiding something from me.
I kept my eyes fixed on the back of his head, replaying his words from earlier. Each one was laced with a careful vagueness that only deepened my suspicions.
I didn't blame him, not entirely. Tatsuo had always been the kind of person to carry burdens silently, shielding others from the weight he bore. But lately, something had changed. He wasn't just a kindhearted boy looking out for his friends anymore. His decisions were calculated, his demeanor steady in ways that reminded me more of an adult than an eight-year-old child.
When did you start becoming someone so mature?
My thoughts drifted to the nights I'd wake to the sound of muffled cries from his room. Nightmares. They had started about a year ago, growing worse as time passed. Tatsuo never talked about them, but the shadowed look in his eyes each morning told me everything I needed to know. Something haunted him.
And then there were the odd moments I'd catch him sneaking off into the forest at night or practicing something, movements too precise and focused to be simple play. He was training, that much I was sure of. Training for something he hadn't shared with me or anyone else.
I sighed softly, keeping my steps light as we moved deeper into the church. The faint scent of candle wax and aged wood hung in the air, mingling with the cool night breeze filtering through the cracks in the stone walls.
"Tatsuo…" I whispered, my voice barely audible. He didn't respond; his attention was focused entirely on our surroundings. His dark eyes scanned every corner, every shadow, searching for something, anything that could provide answers.
Why won't you tell me what's going on?
I tightened my grip on my cloak, a cold shiver running down my spine.
I won't push you. I just… I want to help. But how can I when you keep everything bottled up inside?
My mind returned to the events of the past few days. The mysterious figure in the forest who killed the vampire brutally and efficiently was unlike anything I'd ever imagined. And now, the new figure who had taken the children. It wasn't just a tall person; there was something deeply wrong about them. The unnatural silence that followed them, the eerie sense of emptiness… It sent chills down my spine.
As we passed through the main hall, I glanced around the dimly lit church. The pews sat empty, their polished surfaces gleaming faintly in the moonlight streaming through the stained-glass windows. Everything looked normal, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something sinister lingered just out of sight.
"What do you think they're doing to the children?" I asked quietly, trying to keep my voice steady even as it trembled.
Tatsuo slowed his steps but didn't look at me.
"I don't know," he admitted, his voice low.
"But if the tall figure is anything like the ones I've read about, it's not good. They don't take children without a reason."
My heart tightened, his words echoing ominously in my mind.
Not good. I didn't want to imagine the worst, but my thoughts betrayed me, painting horrific images of what might be happening.
"Do you think…" I hesitated, fear constricting my chest.
"Do you think the figure did something to Sister Mari and the other children in the orphanage, too? Like... with magic?"
Tatsuo stopped, finally turning to face me. The look in his eyes was grave, and for a moment, I thought he might tell me something more. But he simply nodded.
"It's possible. If they used mind magic, they could've altered their memories or suppressed them. It's dangerous, but it would explain why no one remembers seeing anything."
My stomach churned as Tatsuo spoke. I didn't fully understand what he meant by Mind Magic, but the way his voice hardened sent a chill down my spine. I forced myself to nod, pretending to follow his explanation.
"Mind magic…" I trailed off, trying to wrap my head around it.
"Is that like mind manipulation?"
I remembered how Sister Mari would calm down an angry child or soothe a sobbing one with just her voice and presence. She once told me she used a small trick, a subtle way to ease emotions. She called it Mind Manipulation, a gentle nudge to help others feel better without forcing them to do anything against their will.
But what Tatsuo described sounded much darker. Twisting memories? Erasing them entirely? That was far more sinister than anything I'd seen Sister Mari do.
Could mind magic really have that kind of power? And if so, was it completely different from mind manipulation… or just a more dangerous version of it?
I glanced at Tatsuo, his fists clenched and his jaw tight with anger. He knew more than he was letting on. And once again, I found myself trailing behind him, surrounded by questions with no answers.
Tatsuo slowed his steps, his eyes briefly meeting mine before turning forward again. He hesitated for a moment before speaking, his voice low and serious.
"Mind manipulation is different," he explained quietly.
"It's subtle. It's not about completely controlling someone, it's about nudging their thoughts or emotions, guiding them in a way that feels natural. It's the kind of thing you might use to calm someone down or make them feel at ease. But mind magic… that's more dangerous."
I listened intently, trying to piece it all together. Tatsuo's words felt heavier than I expected, and a part of me was still confused, but I could tell this wasn't something simple.
"Mind control," he continued, his voice darkening, "is when someone takes absolute control over another person's mind. It overrides their will completely, forcing them to act against their own desires. Mind manipulation is a far cry from that; it's still subtle, still gentle, but mind control…"
He clenched his fists tighter, his words growing colder.
"It's an abuse of power. It's a complete violation of a person's autonomy, their free will."
I felt a cold shiver run down my spine. The idea of someone having the power to erase or twist memories was beyond anything I'd ever imagined. It was a power that could ruin lives, and yet, the thought didn't seem so foreign when I looked at Tatsuo's grave expression. Whatever he'd been through, whatever this "mind magic" truly was, it was something far more dangerous than I could ever have anticipated.
"I didn't know mind magic could do something like that," I whispered, my voice barely audible.
Tatsuo's expression darkened.
"It's not supposed to. Most people who practice it only use it for combat, controlling enemies in the heat of battle. But this…" He clenched his fists.
"Using it for something like this is beyond cruel."
I watched him, my gaze fixed on the way his jaw tightened and his eyes hardened. There was more he wasn't saying, more that he likely couldn't say. I wanted to ask him to press for more details, but the words caught in my throat. Instead, I nodded, following him as he turned toward the next corridor.
My thoughts spiraled once more as we walked.
Who is this tall figure? Why did they take the children? What could they possibly want with them?
Every answer I came up with was worse than the last.
And then there was Tatsuo himself. His nightmares, his training, his sudden maturity, it all pointed to something much larger than he was letting on.
Maybe I was overthinking it. Maybe I was too worried, imagining things that weren't there. After all, Tatsuo had always been serious and focused, even when we were younger. His quiet nature had always made him someone hard to read. Perhaps I was just letting my mind run wild because I cared too much.
But then again, the pieces didn't add up. The nightmares, the training he never spoke about, the way he acted so differently now, it didn't sit right with me. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.
I know you're hiding something, Tatsuo, my chest tightening.
I just hope… when you're ready, you'll trust me enough to tell me.
****
We stopped in front of a closed door at the end of the hallway. The door loomed before us, its surface carved with intricate, twisting patterns that seemed to ripple in the dim light. Where a keyhole would typically be, there was none, only an engraved symbol etched into the wood. The design depicted a coiled serpent with jagged, thorn-like scales, its predatory stance radiating menace. Its eyes glinted faintly as though imbued with life, an unmistakable mark of the arcane.
I froze, my gaze locking onto the emblem. My stomach twisted. There was something about this symbol, something familiar, yet foreign. It was the crest of a faction, I was sure of it. I had seen many like it in my past life, but never one quite like this. The design of a coiled serpent with jagged, thorn-like scales made my skin crawl. Its predatory stance felt almost alive, its eyes glinting with a faint, unsettling light.
What kind of faction used something like this? The power it radiated was unmistakable. I'd dealt with organizations before, some even more sinister than others, but this? This felt different.
I could feel a knot forming in my chest, a mix of unease and instinctive caution. In my past life, I had crossed paths with many factions, some driven by ambition, others by a thirst for control or vengeance, but none with this level of foreboding. This serpent's mark was a symbol of something darker, and I knew deep down that whatever lay beyond this door would be far from ordinary. It might be my past knowledge that kept my heart from racing, but I couldn't shake the feeling that this would be a turning point.
The thought of what could be waiting on the other side made my gut tighten. If I didn't tread carefully, the danger could spiral beyond what I could control.
Yuna stepped closer, her brow furrowed as she studied the engraving.
"There's no keyhole... so how do we open it?" she asked, her voice low but steady.
I hesitated for a brief moment before shaking my head.
"I don't know," I lied, keeping my voice neutral.
"Maybe it's sealed with some kind of magic."
In truth, I knew exactly what it was. A mana-reactive mechanism. I'd encountered doors like this in my past life, often protecting forbidden knowledge or dangerous relics. The mechanism required a precise flow of mana to activate; too little, and it wouldn't respond; too much, and it could trigger a deadly trap.
Yuna sighed, stepping back.
"If there's no keyhole, then how are we supposed to get through?"
I crossed my arms, pretending to mull over the problem.
"Maybe we can break it open," I suggested.
"A rock, a heavy branch, something to bash it down."
Yuna gave me a skeptical look.
"You think that'll work?"
"Probably not," I admitted, rubbing the back of my neck.
"But it's worth a shot, right? Try looking around for something solid."
Yuna hesitated, then nodded.
"Alright. I'll check outside."
The moment she turned and disappeared from sight, I exhaled slowly and pressed my palm against the emblem. A small, controlled pulse of mana flowed from my fingertips, seeping into the intricate carvings. I had trained for this, long nights spent mastering my mana control in secret while the others slept. My efforts paid off as the serpent's eyes began to glow with an eerie blue light, the patterns rippling like liquid under moonlight.
Then, with a deep, resonant click, the door's locking mechanism disengaged. The heavy door creaked as it slowly swung open, revealing a narrow staircase that descended into the gloom below. The air that rushed up from the stairs was musty and thick, like it had been sealed off for years.
I quickly stepped back just as Yuna returned, a large rock in her hands.
"I found..." She stopped, staring at the now-open door in shock.
I shrugged, putting on an innocent expression.
"Guess it wasn't locked after all."
Yuna frowned, glancing between me and the door. Suspicion flickered in her eyes, but she sighed and dropped the rock.
"That's weird… but I'm not complaining."
I gave a small smirk but said nothing. As we both stared into the depths of the staircase, I knew one thing for certain: I had to be careful. If Yuna was already getting suspicious, I couldn't afford to slip up.
Yuna and I instinctively stepped back as the musty air from below curled around us, thick and stale, as if the passage had been sealed for centuries. She wrinkled her nose but quickly steadied herself, her grip tightening at her sides. Though uncertainty flickered in her gaze, she pushed past it, meeting my eyes with quiet determination.
"Whatever we find in there," she said, her voice firm despite the tension in the air, "we'll handle it."
I studied her for a moment, the faintest flicker of warmth breaking through the weight of my grim resolve. Even in the face of the unknown, she was unwavering.
She hasn't changed…
I exhaled softly, nodding.
"Yeah," I replied.
"Together."
With that, we stepped forward, crossing the threshold into the darkness. The temperature seemed to drop instantly, a chill creeping along our skin. Our footsteps echoed against the stone walls, each step swallowed by the eerie silence ahead.