Aethon layed on his bed, staring at the ceiling while he wondered about the voice he heard and the sudden dissappearance of Mai. His chest rose and fell, but no comfort came from the rhythm. The silence of the estate was unbearable, suffocating, and every time he closed his eyes, the same vision bled through, Clint's face. His friend's eyes, wide in disbelief, mouth opening as if to speak but only blood bubbling uncontrollably at his lips. The slave's knife had cut too deep, and the way Clint's body crumpled to the ground replayed over and over, like an endless reel etched into his mind.
Aethon pressed his palms into his eyes until the ache grew sharp, but even then, Clint's face still managed to linger like a burn mark behind his eyelids.
It wasn't supposed to happen. Not to him.
He whispered it aloud as though the words themselves might be able to rewrite reality. But the voice that answered wasn't his own. No. It was something more deep. As if it was emerging from the deeps of a deep darkness that was hidden within himself.
"You should've stopped it."
His breath caught, almost as if all the oxygen was taken out from his very lungs.
It was his brother's voice. It was Calm, measured, and soaked in judgment. Aethon shot upright and began to scan the darkened corners of his room. Nothing stirred. His bedchamber felt as still as a tomb, yet the voice seemed to seep through the walls themselves, vibrating against his very sling and shaking his bones.
"You watched, Aethon. And stood there... Doing nothing. Frozen like a statue. Scared. Just observing. Like a watcher. You always watch."
"No," he muttered Aethon has he clenched his fists. "I didn't—I... "
But his very own memories betrayed him. He had seen the knife, seen the glint of the steel, but he had hesitated. The scream, the rush of bodies, the gurgling sound of Clint's final breaths, they all replayed in his head, the onky difference between then and now was that it was much more clearer.
Clint's eyes met his again in that endless loop. Begging. Accusing. Screaming.
Aethon stumbled off the bed, pacing the room frantically. His body buzzed with restless energy that made if feel an unshakable tension that made his skin feel tight, it was as if his body was been crushed by an invisible pressure. He wasn't able to sleep since yesterday, but he didn't feel tired. Not even a shred of fatigue weighed him down. Only raw, unspent force coursed through his veins, as though something inside him refused to let him rest.
He pulled out his chair that was placed in the gap at the middle of his dressing table and raked fingers through his hair.
"Ican't…" he whispered as he bowed his down towards the floor.
After saying that, he got up from the chair and tried lying back again. He sat on the bed played himself on it, closed his eyes, and focused on the rhythm of his breathing. But Clint was always there. Sometimes laughing as he once did when they sneaked out into the orchards at night, and other times he stared at him with the knife lodged in his chest staring at him dead in the eyes has blood poured out his mouth and soaked his clothes. And behind it all, threading through each hallucination, was his brother's voice.
"You let himdie."
"You'll let them alldie."
"You aren't strongenough."
Each whisper was perfectly measured. Each one was perfectly cruel, like a blade honed for his throat.
Aethon shot up again, unable to stand the prison of his chamber any longer. The moonlight spilling through the windows painted his skin in a pale sheen as he shoved the doors open and stepped into the halls of his estate.
And then he heard it.
Silence.
The corridors stretched out endlessly, empty of guards, servants, or the faintest flicker of lanternlight. Normally, someone would be there. A servant polishing silver. A guard patrolling, boots echoing against the marble. But now? Nothing. Just his own footsteps echoing in spaces that felt far too vast.
His pulse quickened. Then he remembered that Mai was staying in the estate as well.
"Mai?" he called, his voice bouncing off the cold stone walls. "Mai, are you here?"
No reply. Not even the rustle of fabric or the creak of a door.
Then he remembered what had happened yesterday, how Mai had disappeared so suddenly. One moment she was speaking to him, and the next, she was simply gone. Like a shadow erased from existence. He had expected her to return. To explain. But the absence weighed heavier now, pressing down on him with each step.
The emptiness was slowly becoming unbearable. He pushed through the hall, descending the grand staircase two steps at a time until he reached the main atrium. The chandeliers above were unlit, their crystals glinting faintly in the dark like the hollow eyes of a corpse.
He shoved open the heavy doors leading outside, his breath was misting in the night air has he was beginning to grow nervous and fearful.
The gardens layed in a ruinous stillness. No servants pruning hedges, no guards were stationed at the gates. Even the torches that normally burned brightly during the night were extinguished. The estate was dead. It was as if everyone never existed.
Aethon's chest began to get constricted. He crouched down while griping his black t shirt that he had on beginning to breath frantically. He then closed his eyes, took a deep breath in and out, stood upright and began running.
Has he begun to run, he passed under archways and inbetween shadowy columns, until he bursted through the main gates and onto the empty road leading into the central district.
What greeted him made him made him freeze on the spot.
It was what he was expecting. It was the same has the estate.
Silence.
Not just the silence of night, but something worse, it felt like an oppressive unnatural void. No laughter from children filled the streets or the alleyways, no murmur of merchants on the street talking or screaming why there products are better and there was no cries of animals in the distance. The city that never slept was still as a graveyard. Windows were dark. Streets were barren.
Even the birds… gone.
Not even the wind made a sound. All he heard was his heartbeat thumping.
Aethon stepped forward, each sound of his boots striking stone echoing far too loudly, as if the world itself had grown hollow. The familiar scent of bread and smoke that usually lingered in the district was absent too. His senses strained for any sign of life, but found only emptiness.
"What is this? Where is everyone?" he whispered to himself.
His brother's voice stirred again, this time in a low and mocking voice.
"You're alone now, Aethon. Just as you weremeant tobe."
"No. No no no no no no, noooo!." He shook his head violently, clutching his temples. "You're not real. You're not here."
The voices laugh only grew louder and louder , while still maintaining a soft and calm composure compared to Aethon.
Shadows seemed to ripple at the edges of his vision. He turned corners, checked alleys, searched the faces of windows that revealed nothing but black glass. The emptiness started to press closer, suffocating him in its weight almost like a snake strangling it's prey.
"Clint?" he whispered once, the words shot out from his mouth before he had even realised it. Aethon then crouched down while covering his face with hands. As he tried to calm himself down he stood up slowly, and removed his hands from his face, but has he did, for a brief moment... He sww him. He saw Clint.
Clint stood at the far end of the street, clothes still blood-soaked, knife stuck in his abdomen. He raised his hand, beckoning silently, eyes hollow and accusing.
Aethon staggered back,slowly shaking his head. When he blinked, Clint was gone. Only the empty street remained.
His breath came ragged and uneven.
Hallucinations. Nothing more. Hallucinations.
But then, without warning a sound started to fill the air.
It was slowly getting louder and louder.
From behind him, it was faint at first but started to grow rapidly, like the rush of a thousand rivers compressed into veins.
It was the sound of blood rushing. It was thick, heavy and endless. Like a tide surging towards him.
Aethon's entire body froze on the spot. His heartbeat started to get louder and louder. He slowly began to turn with dread clawing at his spine.
The streets behind him began to get warped, and shadows began to quiver like liquid. The sound was growing louder and got almost deafening, until it was all he could hear.
And then, for some reason... Everything around started to slowly dissappear, like shadows.
And the next moment... Everything went black.