Kael's head throbbed as the rain hit his skin like tiny blades. He stood still, soaked to the bone, outside the apartment building he once called home. The lights inside were off. No welcome glow, no familiar scent of burnt coffee or his sister's favorite old movie playing too loud on the TV. Nothing.
His fists clenched in his coat pockets. It had been three days since he left the warehouse. Three days since everything changed.
He looked down at his hand — still bandaged, still aching. That was where it started. That was where he touched something he shouldn't have. The box wasn't supposed to open. It wasn't supposed to react to him. But it did.
"Kael!" a voice called out. Rough, breathless.
He turned slowly. Devon, his childhood friend, came running toward him from across the street, nearly slipping on the wet pavement. His eyes were wide with something between fear and relief.
"Where've you been? You're late. The others are worried," Devon said, shaking water from his jacket.
Kael gave a hollow laugh. "I was nowhere you'd want to be."
[9/18, 6:13 PM] ChatGPT: Devon frowned. "You've been acting weird ever since the warehouse. The way you left… like you were running from something."
Kael's gaze drifted away, watching raindrops slide down a broken windowpane. "Maybe I was."
***
The warehouse was on the edge of town, an old building covered in rust and graffiti. It was supposed to be abandoned, but Kael knew better. That's where the box was kept. The box that no one could open.
He had found it by accident, hidden under piles of dusty crates. It was old, wooden, carved with strange symbols. He had reached out to touch it, curiosity getting the better of him.
At first, nothing happened. But then a faint glow escaped from the cracks. The box hummed softly, pulsing with a power he couldn't understand.
When his fingers brushed the lock, a shock ran through his arm — sharp, electric, almost burning. The box creaked open, revealing nothing inside but a cold emptiness.
Kael had no idea what it meant, but the moment he touched it, things changed. Shadows seemed longer. Sounds sharper. And that ache in his hand? It never went away.
***
Back on the street, Devon looked him over, concern deep in his eyes. "You're not yourself. Something's wrong."
Kael shook his head, trying to push the memories away. "I don't want to get anyone else involved. This is my mess."
"But we're your friends, Kael. We don't just stand by."
A sudden noise behind them made both of them spin. A figure slipped into the shadows of the alley, watching.
Kael's breath hitched. "Did you see that?"
Devon nodded. "Yeah. Someone's following you."
***
Days passed in a blur. Kael kept to the shadows, avoiding calls and texts. The city felt colder, darker — like it was closing in.
The ache in his hand worsened. It burned beneath the bandages, a reminder of the box's power. At night, strange dreams haunted him — visions of broken places, whispers in languages he didn't understand, and a voice that called his name.
One night, the voice was clear.
"Kael…"
He woke gasping, sweat soaking his sheets. His phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number: *"You opened the box. Now you belong to it."*
Panic surged through him. He threw on his jacket and ran into the rainy streets, desperate for answers.
***
Kael found himself back at the warehouse. The door was slightly open, creaking with the wind. Inside, shadows moved.
"Hello?" he called, voice shaking.
No answer.
He stepped inside, heart pounding. The box sat on a crate, closed again, but glowing faintly.
A cold hand touched his shoulder. He spun around — but there was nothing.
"Kael…" the voice whispered again.
He wasn't alone.
***
Outside, Devon waited nervously, dialing Kael's number over and over.
Suddenly, the warehouse door slammed open. Kael stumbled out, eyes wild.
"They know," he gasped. "I have to fight this. But I don't know how."
Devon nodded. "We'll face it together."
Kael looked up at the sky, lightning tearing through the clouds.
This was just the beginning.
---