When Elio was eight, he realized that his world was different.
His world was splitting apart.
The living and the dead seemed to walk side by side, and here he was, unable to distinguish one from another. At first, he thought talking to people he didn't know was expected because they kept seeing him, asking him for companionship or help. But it turns out those people were dead, but they seem to be alive.
That realization caused him to become so fearful of people, unable to talk to trust his own eyes. What if someone he spoke to wasn't there?
His parents noticed the change in his behavior.
He stopped being sociable. He became quiet and withdrawn.
He stopped playing outside.
He stopped looking people in the eyes.
And soon, Elio stopped sleeping.
Then, one day, he finally broke down. He was trembling at the corner of his bed, covering his ears so he could not hear the whispers festering him. When his parents approached him, all he could say was, "I don't know who's real anymore,"
That's the time when his parents made a decision...
They took Elio to see their patron.
In the middle of the night, Elio's parents decided to meet the patron who could help him at the private chapel owned by their family for centuries. Elio was so afraid then; he had no idea where they were going or who they would meet. The only thing that was clear to him was the expression of his father, a perfect image of tension and irritation mixing up at once. He would grip Elio's small, seemingly fragile arms, digging his angry fingers into his skin every time he tried to fight back. On the other hand, his mother followed his husband's lead. She seemed to be afraid, too. Her silence and paleness as she walked beside them could testify to her fear.
But she could not oppose his husband. No one could oppose him even if she pleaded.
When they arrived, the entire chapel was loomed with pitch-black darkness. The iron gate screeches as the father pushes it open, its sharp, metal noise echoing through the empty halls. Elio could see the old paintings on the wall, primarily images of angels and saints, half-erased by centuries of neglect. The scent of the wind coming from the innermost part of the chapel was almost the same, with the smell of decaying wood and damped soil. It reminds him of the scent of cemeteries.
When Elio stepped into the chapel, he could feel the heaviness unfolding to his entire body, enough to make his legs feel weak. He could not walk. But his father insisted, dragging him forward by force.
Then, from there, a voice echoed.
"I hope you have a very good reason for me to come here and not just to help you discipline your kid..."
Elio was startled when he heard the voice, smooth but deep, enough to make the fear crawl into his skin. Then, from the deepest area of the chapel, from where the voice came from, a pair of deep-red eyes glowing like embers approached where he and his parents stood.
"My son keeps on seeing things, and it bothers us."
The man finally showed himself: a tall man wearing a pitch-black suit, well suited to his fair, seemingly perfect skin. His dark, well-styled hair complements the darkness like a shadow, almost like an abyss.
His deep-red, gleaming eyes were the only thing that could be seen in that looming darkness. And those eyes landed on Elio's, seemingly uninterested in his case.
"What do you want me to do exactly?"
"Make it stop." It was supposed to be a request, but how he delivered it doesn't sound like one. "Suppress it or...whatever! It's up to you. I don't want to keep hearing things from him. It will be bad for our family's image to have a child like that..."
The man, still uninterested, deliberately let a slow sigh. His pair of bloody-colored eyes scanned the young boy from head to toe as if he were studying the worth of his soul like an object in an auction.
It's intense but unstable.
Regardless, the kid's soul was not worth anything above his standards or even up to his liking. He's just ordinary, and it started to get him bored. So, to end the discussion quickly, he lowered himself slightly to the young boy's level, just enough for their eyes to meet.
"Tell me..." he said as he brushed off the strands of hair covering the young boy's emerald green eyes, strikingly beautiful when he saw it up close. "What do you want?"
"Hey, why bother asking him?" Elio's father suddenly interrupts, something that triggers the young man, causing him to flicker his eyes straight to Elio's father, who hits him like a blade and cuts him metaphorically.
"You brought him to me, expecting me to fix him for you," he said calmly, but its sharpness and danger were underneath the silk. "You have nothing to give me in return, so why don't you shut up and watch? I will decide how I should do things and how this is done..."
Elio's father was immediately shut in silence. The only thing he could do was to clench his fist in frustration and say nothing.
"So, where are we? Ah, yes..." the man turned his gaze back to Elio, trembling slightly as he witnessed him and his father argue. Ah, those innocent eyes, being devoured by fear, was the best thing he had seen so far. "What do you want to do to those things that keep festering you?"
Elio was so hesitant and fearful that he held his voice hostage for a second.
"I..." Elio's small, trembling hands grabbed the fabric of his shirt, trying to avoid those bloody-colored eyes from meeting his. "I...wanted them to stop."
A slight hum of acknowledgment had escaped from the man's lips as they curved in amusement. "Who's them? The ghost?"
Elio nodded, almost non-existent.
"Then, how would you repay me? Is there anything you have that you could give me in return?"
Elio's mother reacted when he heard the man trying to make a deal with his son, a child. "No! Elio, don't!" she wanted to stop it, but the man gave him a cold stare, enough to make her freeze from where she stood.
That was it. That's the end of it. She cannot do anything at that point.
Oh, Elio...
The man shifted his attention back to the young boy, patiently waiting for his reply. And then suddenly, Elio navigates something inside his pocket. He grabbed it and reluctantly showed it to the man.
An ash tree flower.
"Is this...enough?"
The man blinked, unexpectedly surprised. Of all the things this child could offer, like his parents' money or any material things, he chooses this--a flower. Nothing of importance, something that he could easily throw away or crush in his hands. But this flower was the only thing that the child could offer, nothing else.
The man took the flower as he observed the young boy trembling with anxiousness, his tiny hands fidgeting while looking for a sign that somehow he would approve of his offering.
For some reason, he was delighted. How fascinating, he said to himself.
"Is this flower something important to you?" he asked. The young boy nodded his head and replied, "My grandfather gave this to me. He said that these flowers are valuable."
What Elio didn't know was that the flower he just offered, the ash tree flower, means a willingness to sacrifice something in exchange for freedom. The man smiled in approval the moment he realized what it meant. He tucked the flower into his chest pocket and caressed the young boy's cheeks to show amusement.
"Very well," he said. Something in his blood-colored eyes mesmerized the young child, somewhat inviting, pulling him closer and closer to an overwhelming need to sleep.
"I...I'm sleepy..." Elio said, trying to fight the sleepiness by scratching his eyes.
"It's okay, let it be..." the man reassured him that it was okay, making sure the young boy could feel his cold hands on his cheeks while staring at his deep-red eyes. "Those things that you could see, those whispers...I could not erase them for you. They will hunt you, follow you, but I could rewrite your world for you, reshape their images so that whenever you see them, they will appear as nothing but a mere sensation."
Elio's small body swayed forward towards the man as sleep overtook him completely. He finally closed his eyes, trying to remember this man's voice, which took away his memory of his ability and freed him from his fear.
For now...
"Wait, that's it?" after being silent the entire time, Elio's father could finally speak without being warned by the man's sharp gazes.
"That's it," he confirmed while he carried the child in his arms and turned him over to his father. "Your son's deal was unexpectedly fair, better than yours, I'm afraid."
"Whatever." he scoffed as he turned away from the man who recently mocked him. His wife followed him as they prepared to leave the chapel immediately. "I don't care whatever you did there; as long as he stops seeing things, that's all that matters to me."
The man did not reply. He let them go with the child and watched them with amusement as they disappeared beyond the chapel doors. When the only one left in the chapel, he took the ash flower from his chest pocket, twirling it between his fingers while reminiscing the sensation he felt from the young boy's innocent soul.
There was nothing special about him at first. He's so plain, so ordinary, just like the flower he twirls on his fingers. But when he laid his hands on him, he felt something different, hidden underneath those waves of instability, as if they were there to hide something from people like him.
A demon.
"Interesting..." he said to himself as he gradually crumbled the flower on his hand, turned it into ash, and escaped from his hands.
From that day on, he watched the young boy as he grew into a man, unaware of the things he was capable of, that the world he saw was just a rewritten piece of wonderland to suppress his fears and live everyday life.
But all was just temporary.
Because the moment Elio's life started to drain due to his illness, the seal vested in him had broken. His remarkable sixth sense grew, allowing him to see, feel, talk, and even touch the dead as if they were still alive, but he was unaware of it the entire time.
But what surprised him the most was Elio's ability to cross over the realm of the dead. He witnessed it firsthand when he saw him enter that funeral shop that was supposed to be struck by those who were already dead.
Not by someone like Elio, who is still alive.
The man, no--the demon, smirked in amusement. His bloody red eyes gleamed from excitement as he twirled a piece of ash flower in his fingers as Elio's image as a child lingers in his thoughts.
"Looks like I have finally found my key..."
And it's only time for him to claim what was rightfully his.
----
Author's note:
Ash Tree: Mythology and symbolism - The ash tree was thought to have medicinal and mystical properties and the wood was burned to ward off evil spirits. In Norse mythology, ash was the 'Tree of Life' and the first man on Earth was said to have come from an ash tree. Even today it is sometimes known as the 'Venus of the woods'.
Ash tree flower (General) - Means "With me, you are safe" and also associated with Prudence, Purification, Protection, and some text defined it as "willingness to sacrifice something in exchange for freedom"