Hearing the name, my blood ran cold. Silas, my imaginary friend? I only remembered him briefly. At some point in my life, he was almost always with me. Of course, following my suicide attempt, he faded out of existence, as I never saw him again. I didn't remember what he looked like, or what he was like to begin with. What if he wasn't even a boy to begin with?
"Silas..." I repeated the name under my breath, feeling the syllables sift into the crevices of my tongue.
Hearing my murmur, Mr. Ryujin turned from the closet as he removed his shirt, putting on a loose cotton top. "Yeah, you talk about him a lot in your writing. Heh, it appears there's a lot more than I thought inside your notebook."
"I don't think I've ever written in my journal that much," I responded, feeling a wave of uncertainty.
The only times I've truly written were when someone had instructed me to do so. I'd never written before on my own. Yes, bloody writings and inscriptions appear, but I don't know how they got there. Yet, their themes and imagery were subjects I couldn't help but relate to.
"I want to get out of this place."
"I want to get rid of my awful father."
"Does anyone actually care about me?"
Those bloodied words remained etched into my mind.
Looking back at the worn, spiral-bound journal, I felt my curiosity peak as I took it from the bed. Flipping through the pages, I eventually came to rest the moment my eyes found the name. It stood there, scrawled in blood-red writing. Though the handwriting was a little neater than anything else within the journal, it still looked reminiscent of the bloody ravings I had written before.
From the looks of it, the writing was akin to something like a journal entry. The date was written in the upper left-hand corner of the paper—April 18th.
"Why did I dream of killing my father that night? It felt good in a way to end that bastard and end my own suffering. Now that I think about it, perhaps I will kill him later. It would do everyone good, including my new friend, Ayumi. He's lurked like a shadow over my life, filling my ears with lies, shame, and degradation."
My eyes kept widening as I read the contents.
"Silas, if you're reading this, I'm sure you already know what I did. If the knife has blood on it, feel free to wash it off and put it in the sink—that'll deter any suspicion. Also, would you mind hiding the corpse for me? In the meantime, I'll handle my mother; she'd most likely be traumatized from the experience. Maybe she'll thank me."
I didn't know what to say. That journal entry was written on the night I dreamt of killing him in the recliner. I had no real plans to murder my father; everything just happened that one night, leading to me getting angry enough to attempt that. If I did have some sort of plan, I would've known about it earlier and acted on it.
I felt a knot coil tight in my stomach as I closed the book, staring at the black leather cover. Mr. Ryujin, who had remained silent whilst changing, finally spoke up.
"Y'ok?"
I snapped out of ethereal daze, meeting the man with a small smile. "I'm fine, but I think I'll head back to bed."
...
Approaching the bathroom mirror, I let out a low sigh as I transported myself within my mindscape. As the pillars and stone floor beneath me gradually came into view, a sudden chill coursed over me as I stood face-to-face with my Spirit Body. Their form—still ethereal—gazed back at me with indifferent yet calculating eyes.
Without saying a word, they looked past me towards the corner, where the Umbridge quickly manifested. The illusory figure walked over to me, tilting their head ever so slightly.
"I feel as if you're troubled; you're not sleeping right now." The Umbridge assessed my body, looking me up and down.
I held the journal in my trembling hands, setting it down on the floor and opening it to the page. Once the Umbridge saw the blood-red writing, their worm-hole-like eyes widened in slight curiosity.
"You're going to attempt something, aren't you?"
I nodded my head as I stepped back from the book. The illusory, wraith-like wings on my back expanded as I began to levitate upwards. The tips of my horns started to glow as I began to concentrate my energy. Within my mind, I envisioned the Blood-Moon Charm.
"I found another method of divination," I said.
Hearing my words, the ethereal figure wearing a black cloak nodded their head with some solemnity. "Why are you attempting divination though?"
I pointed down to the book. "Those writings ...I want to know when and how exactly I wrote them."
At this moment, the energies coursing through my body abruptly intensified, now coursing through my spirit as the journal began to levitate in the air, its black body engulfed by a tidal wave of chaotic forces.
"I want to know why I'd write those things..." I repeated in my mind.
Within my mind, an image suddenly flashed. I saw the grout-ridden tiles of my old bathroom floor—stained in blood. My vision was blurry and unfocused, tipping and twisting as I was barely conscious. When I looked down at my own body, I could barely see my own form—but I could see I was wearing my school uniform.
My right sleeve was pulled up, the cuff of the undershirt also stained with blood just like the floor. My stomach flipped like a pancake the moment I caught sight of my wrist: it was ridden with lacerations, barely able to penetrate deep into the skin yet effective enough to shed blood. They were the same cuts that triggered me in the shower.
Was this incident how they were formed? Is this connected to those grotesque journal entries? I focused harder, embracing a surge of concentration. The entire time, the Blood-Moon Charm kept me from passing out on the spot—even if I now possessed supernatural abilities, I was still sensitive to the sight of blood.
My tipping, unstable gaze moved jaggedly to the counter. On the wooden surface, I saw the contents of a first-aid kit spread on the counter, including gauze, disinfectant materials and antibiotic oitments—necessities for cleansing lacerations to prevent infection. My ears were ringing the entire time, though I could hear some noises.
One of them was heavy pounding on the bathroom door, and a deep, masculine voice demanding I open it. Even with my unstable hearing, it didn't take even a moment to know it was my father. The bastard had probably drank too much and had to throw up again. As the corners of my vision continued to gradually darken, my left hand moved to the floor, picking up the black journal and opening it to a fresh page.
Warm tears trickled down my face as I moved with my right hand, running a q-tip along the bloodied wounds—I was using a damn q-tip as a makeshift pencil.
A sharp slap from an unknown force roused me from my state. When I regained some lucidity, I was curled on the throne room floor. My ears and head were ringing and pounding as I met the gaze of both my Spirit Body and the Umbridge.
My Spirit Body spoke in a layered, ethereal voice. "You passed out."
"I did?" I mumbled groggily, leaning up and rubbing my head. Outside the stained windows, the torrential storm burst and bubbled, sizzling sharp, jagged lightning in all directions. This caught the attention of everyone in the room, but nobody aside from me showed shock or concern.
"Every time you experience heavy emotional stimulation, your mind begins to sizzle and storm, unable to process what's happening."
"A-alright..." I leaned back, resting on the floor.
I weakly grabbed the journal from beside me, the page still flipped on the diary entry I had written in my own blood. Thinking back to what I had seen, my eyes snapped shut as I let out a low groan. The Blood-Moon Charm's effects instantly washed over me, cleansing my nausea in an instant.
My body slowly moved as I prompted myself onto my knees, gradually gaining the strength to stand up. Beneath me, my legs shook like jelly—a physical reaction the Blood-Moon Charm couldn't erase. Even if my spiritual body could be cleansed by supernatural forces, my human body was still ...well ...human.
"What did that mean?" I asked, looking towards both enigmatic figures.
"I don't know, that's for you to decide," The Umbridge replied, sighing softly.
I took a slow step back, almost stumbling. Luckily, I managed to collapse back into my throne before I'd pass out again. The moment I touched the obsidian-colored throne, the illusory wraith wings on my back emerged once again, the eyes and mouths within it radiating malevolent crimson light. The tips of my horns glowed with crimson energy.
I had written those diary entries in the bathroom some time before I found them, which was after school. I was most likely on the verge of passing out, as my hearing and vision were constantly fluctuating. Perhaps it was both blood loss and the shock of seeing it.
But ...why would I cut myself like that if I'm so scared of blood? I'd purposely make myself fall unconscious. My hemophobia is very sensitive, but luckily the Blood-Moon Charm can erase those effects for a short period of time—I had seen that happen when I caught sight of those mangled corpses back at the medical facility.
I opened the journal again, rereading the contents of the page addressed to Silas a few times over. I tried to piece the clues together, to find some rational answer for that moment I had seen, but how it was connected to my imaginary friend was unbeknownst to me. At this moment, a wave of tiredness washed over me as I lolled my head to the side threatening to fall asleep on my throne.
Using the last of my current energy, I descended from the mindscape and back to the bathroom. In the dim lighting, I made my way to the door and back into the apartment room. Damien and Shinso were both asleep in their beds, unbeknownst of my return. Letting out a low, self-depracating chuckle, I walked back to my bed and lay down beside Shinso.
...
Outside the window, an in-black raven was perched on the balcony, leering inside at my sleeping form. It let out a low caw as it unfolded its feathered wings, propelling itself upwards over the skyline of the kingdom. It soured past the line of evergreen trees and over the mountain peaks. The raven flew over the long, arching forests before hanging a sharp right.
As the Pliniege Sea came into view, it soured even higher to avoid the salty winds and clashing waves. The raven could see nothing below it—the night was an unyielding phantom obscuring the sea. At this hour, a fisherman or sailor would have to rely on artificial light to know where they were going or where they were to begin with.
Eventually, by the time the sun began to peak over the thick clouds, the figure of the Katshin Empire gradually emerged within the fog. Bitterly cold snow spewed down from the clouds, almost freezing the ravens feathery hide solid. It ducked lower, its wings almost gracing the snow-covered cobblestone streets of the empire's market. Citizens stepped back, most exclaiming as they watched the raven past.
The bird soured upwards, gracing the side of the castle, its black wings scraping the stone surfaces and contours. Eventually it came to rest the moment it approached the window, souring into the highest peak of the tower. The raven's body was abruptly engulfed by a surge of ink-black smoke. Gradually, it took the shape of a human.
Kael, clad in casual attire, jumped down from the window and landed on his desk. The tranquil yet dark environment was only penetrated by his slow breathing. He was soaked from the melted snow, so the man moved to remove his clothing and change into something more manageable. A sudden knock on his door caused him to jump a little, but he collected himself and approached it.
Alexander stepped back and offered the latter a smile. "I delivered the ambassador his letter; he was quick to reply."
The man with icy-blue eyes dug into his pocket, taking out an envelope. He handed it to Kael with a smile before turning around and walking away.
Kael looked down at the envelope before opening it. He walked over to his desk, sat down, and began to read its contents.
Ambassador Charles showed explicit displeasure with staying there longer. The markets were too noisy, the entire kingdom was buzzing with energy and was too loud, and he always felt like he was being watched. The entire letter was akin to a massive complaint. After reading everything, the red-haired man smirked as he flicked his wrist, turning the letter into crimson flames.
"All they do is complain." He shook his head as he leaned back in his chair, watching the sun rise over the roaring sea.
At this moment, there was another knock on the door.
"Come in," Kael announced, scoffing as he turned around in his chair. Crylla, clad in regular attire, entered the room. Her eyes were half-narrowed, adorned with dark circles around them.
Seeing this, his brows furrowed slightly. "I presume you didn't sleep well?"
"That doesn't matter," Crylla collapsed onto Kael's bed, huffing as she rolled over.
"You vanished longer than expected."
Kael chuckled again, standing up from his chair and approaching the bed. He sat down beside Crylla, running his talon-like hands along the contours of the silken sheets.
"I stopped by Seraphis Kingdom, that boy we're all interested in..."
His smile widened as he looked towards Crylla. "He just advanced to Order 8."