Arin lay alone in the dark room where he would be spending the night, deep in thought.
The last time he'd gone to bed had been in his own, rundown apartment. He'd been worrying about demanding clients and a dissatisfied boss. He'd been too tired to play games with his online friends. He'd been in his own world, living his own life.
He'd still been Arin.
And now, less than a day later, here he was. A small part of him wondered whether whatever had gone wrong enough to send him into an unfamiliar body would, somehow, right itself overnight. For the most part, however, he had made up his mind to not worry about the things he couldn't control.
Instead, he was thinking about what he'd be doing the following day.
The lizard was still out of commission, unmoving as it slept curled-up around his neck. Arin could only hope this meant that it was recuperating well, and would be ready and raring to go by the time it was morning again.
They would have to stop by the orchard to swipe an apple first, of course. More than one, in fact; the last thing Arin wanted was to risk making another unplanned stop in the middle of the forest. The lizard hadn't eaten anything all day, and would probably be famished enough to devour an entire tree's worth of apples when it finally woke up. There might even be something else for it to eat. Alma could help with that.
Alma…
Arin turned to lie on his side, silently gazing out the small window in the wall by his bed. As the final traces of dusk faded into the darkness of night, he wondered whether she would accompany him to the tower.
He knew exactly how irrational and impulsive his offer to her had been. He was acting like an orphaned baby fawn, imprinting on the first person to offer him warmth and a sense of security in this world. Him, not Rin.
And so what? It wasn't as though Arin was bringing her along to force the white-haired man into accepting her as a disciple or something. Alma herself would probably have no interest in doing that. But simply seeing the tower she had only ever heard of might mean a lot to her. Arin might even be able to convince that wide-eyed boy – Rin's junior brother – to share what he knew of this world with her (and himself). The boy had seemed friendly enough, anyway.
It would just be a short trip – she could be back the same day she left. And the horse… probably wouldn't mind too much either. Hadn't it been strutting its strength earlier, acting offended when Arin had dared doubt it? Surely, something as matchlessly powerful (as it claimed to be) wouldn't be too troubled by the additional weight of one slender lady. And helping Alma return to Lullwater would take even less time and energy.
Arin stretched, feeling his bruised back twinge. Something told him that Alma would agree. Maybe it was the curiosity he'd seen sparkling in her eyes, or the soft, hopeful smile on her face when she bade him a good night…
Whatever.
Either way, he was too tired to think any further. Arin switched off his brain and shut his eyes. He was in desperate need of a good rest.
*
Arin found himself standing in the dark. He could only see shadows and silhouettes, and yet, he felt a sense of familiarity. It took him a moment to realize that he stood in the living room of his childhood home.
He waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Then, he started walking. He slowly navigated past the beanbags and the television set. He passed by the unlit fireplace. He stepped over a misplaced floor cushion. His feet were soundless on the wooden floors.
As he approached the coffee table, he came to an abrupt stop. Someone was sitting on the plush sofa, hunched over in the corner. He could now hear broken sobs in the darkness.
'Ugh, why? …W-why!?'
He would recognize that voice anywhere.
'Mom?'
The person on the sofa didn't react. She continued sobbing, her face hidden in her hands.
'Why… did s-something like that… happen? Why to my son!? WHY!?' she wailed.
Arin suddenly realized that she was crying for him. He ran to her side.
'Mom, I'm here! Please, don't cry – I'm fine! See?'
His mother didn't react. It was almost like… she couldn't hear him. Her shoulders kept shuddering as she wept.
Arin tried to hug her, only to find his hands going right through her. He heard her broken voice mumble, 'He's… not coming back... N-not coming back? W-why!? Why not…'
'I am! I WILL!' Arin yelled in desperation. He didn't know how to make his voice reach her. 'I'll come back as soon as I can, so please, mom…'
Don't cry.
He felt his eyes pricking with tears as he sat in the dark, trying to console his grieving mother. He kept talking to her, hoping in vain that his voice would reach her. He tried till his throat hurt. Eventually, he stopped. In the dark room, the only sounds were his mother's sobs.
*
Arin drifted into consciousness. His head was throbbing dully, and he was drenched in sweat. When he reached up a hand to cover his eyes, he could feel Rin's unfamiliar, curly hair sticking to his clammy forehead.
He was still here.
Arin sighed. Despite the haze clouding his mind, he could tell that it was already late into the night. He must've slept for hours. Even so, he didn't feel any more refreshed than when he'd gone to bed. If possible, he felt worse.
Must be thanks to that lovely dream he'd had.
Blinking hard, Arin attempted to shake off the grogginess he felt. He knew that that was all it had been. A dream. A nightmare. Nothing more. There was no reason for his mother to be crying in his childhood home that had been sold off over two decades ago. And his father and two siblings would never leave her alone to cry like that anyway.
Besides, there was no reason for her to be so sad. After all, Arin would be returning, no matter what.
Still, his disoriented mind couldn't help but fixate on the sound of her heartbroken sobs. They were still ringing in his ears.
Arin blinked again, trying to clear his head. He could still hear them.
He sat up.
He could still hear them.
Somewhere in the house, someone was crying.
Suddenly fully awake, Arin felt a chill creep up his spine. As quietly as he could, he dragged himself off the bed and put on his sandals. Touching his neck to make sure that the lizard was still there, he padded out of the room
The rest of the house was pitch black, forcing Arin to feel his way around. Placing a hand on a wall, he slowly followed it towards the source of the sobs. After a few minutes of silent shuffling, he found himself in the main room of the house, where he'd had dinner and conversed with Alma the night before.
Squinting in the dark, he could see her slumped forward onto the table, head resting in the crook of her arms as she cried.
'…Alma?'
She didn't answer. Shaking off the odd sense of déjà vu, Arin stepped closer.
'Alma, what's wrong?'
After a few seconds of waiting, he heard her.
'I… I c-can never… l-leave…'
Arin stopped where he stood. Her words were slurred, and her voice sounded different. Coarse and dry, like air scraping through a broken pipe. It sounded… wrong. He took a small step back, asking, 'W-what do you mean?'
In the dark, he saw her look up. There was something off about her silhouette. Still sobbing, she repeated, 'I can n… can ne-never leave... I can… never… leave.'
There it was again. That raspy, broken voice.
In the spur of the moment, Arin strode over to the front door and threw it open. Deep into the night, the outside was only slightly brighter than the interior of the house had been, all thanks to the paltry light of a small gibbous moon. Still, it was enough for him to see Alma.
Her sunken chest was heaving with sobs, but not a single tear fell from her dark, hollow sockets. Gray skin stretched tight over the bones of her face, cracked in places like old parchment. Her lips were pulled back, twisting her ruined face into a permanent, grotesque grin. There was a large, cruel slash at the base of her throat, seeming to have long since run dry of blood.
As Arin watched in horror, she dropped her head back into the crook of her withered, skeletal arms, weeping.
'I-I… can n-never… leave…'