The rain hadn't stopped since dawn. Sheets of water blurred the hills, turning the dirt roads into rivers. Daniel sat by the window, chin in hand, watching droplets race down the glass.
He should've been on his way to school. But Aunty Maren had insisted he stay home. "The signs are wrong today," she'd said, eyes flicking nervously toward the woods. "No one should travel under a red sky."
Daniel had laughed then — until he looked up and saw it for himself.
The sunrise that morning hadn't been gold. It was crimson.
Now, as thunder rolled faintly in the distance, he felt uneasy. The house felt different — heavier, quieter, as though it were holding its breath.
He turned away from the window, trying to shake the feeling, when a faint humming sound drifted through the air. At first, he thought it was the wind, but no — it was too steady, too rhythmic. It came from beneath the floorboards.
From the cellar.
The one Aunty had forbidden him to open.
---
He hesitated.
It's probably just the storm, he told himself.
But curiosity clawed at him. The humming grew louder, almost like a voice murmuring words he couldn't quite catch.
Daniel swallowed hard. He stepped closer to the trapdoor, kneeling to listen. The wood felt strangely warm under his fingertips.
Then, faintly — unmistakably — he heard it.
> "Keeper… wake…"
His heart jolted. He stumbled back, knocking over a stool. The sound stopped instantly, replaced by silence so complete it rang in his ears.
"What are you doing?"
Daniel turned. Maren stood in the doorway, pale as parchment, her gaze fixed on the cellar.
"I—I heard something," he stammered. "It came from down there."
Maren's face darkened. "That place is sealed for a reason." She strode forward, placing her palm against the trapdoor. The air shimmered faintly, and for a brief second Daniel thought he saw runes — the same symbols from his dreams — glowing on the wood.
"It's nothing you need to worry about," she said tightly. "Go upstairs, Daniel. Now."
He obeyed, but as he climbed the stairs, the voice whispered again — soft, almost gentle.
> "You cannot hide from what you are…"
---
By the time the rain stopped, Maren's strange mood hadn't lifted. She barely spoke during lunch, and when Daniel asked about the feather, she changed the subject.
So when Xavier showed up later that afternoon, Daniel practically ran to greet him.
"You look like you've seen a ghost," Xavier said, stepping inside and shaking water from his coat.
"Not a ghost. Just… weird things happening."
"Weird how?"
Daniel hesitated. He wanted to tell him about the cellar, the dream, the feather — but something held him back.
Instead, he said, "I've been hearing things. Voices."
Xavier's smile faded. "What kind of voices?"
"They call me Keeper. You wouldn't believe it."
"Try me."
Daniel looked up, surprised by the seriousness in his friend's tone. "You're acting weird. Are you okay?"
Xavier forced a laugh. "Yeah. Yeah, just tired." But his eyes flicked toward the cellar door before he quickly looked away.
---
Later, they sat outside under the awning, watching mist curl over the fields. The world smelled of wet grass and pine. Daniel kicked at a stone.
"Do you ever feel like…" he began, "like there's something wrong with you, but you don't know what?"
"All the time," Xavier said softly.
Daniel chuckled. "No, I mean — like something's missing. Like you're supposed to be someone else."
Xavier was quiet for a long time before replying. "Maybe you are. You just haven't remembered yet."
"Remembered?"
He shrugged. "Dreams are funny that way."
Daniel frowned. "You sound like Aunty."
"Then she's smarter than she looks."
They laughed, but the sound felt forced. Somewhere in the distance, a low rumble echoed — not thunder this time, but something deeper, older. The ground trembled faintly beneath their feet.
Daniel glanced at the forest. For a heartbeat, he thought he saw a light flicker among the trees — a dull, violet glow that pulsed once, then vanished
That night, sleep didn't come easily. When it finally did, the dream returned — the same endless plain, the same massive gate chained in darkness.
Only this time, it was different.
The chains were breaking.
Each link shattered with a sound like cracking stone, echoing through his skull. The gate trembled, and from the cracks oozed black smoke that twisted like living shadows.
> "Daniel…"
He turned. Someone stood behind him — cloaked in white light so bright he couldn't see their face.
> "You are the Keeper. When the Gate falls, you will either save this world… or end it."
"Save it? End it? What does that mean?" he shouted, but the figure was already fading.
> "Choose the light before the darkness chooses you."
---
Daniel woke with a strangled gasp. The candle by his bed had burned down to wax, but the air still shimmered faintly — as though light itself hung suspended in the room.
He sat up, heart pounding, and froze. His desk drawer was open.
The feather — the one that had turned white — was gone.
---
The next morning, Daniel could barely focus at school. Xavier noticed immediately.
"You didn't sleep again," he said, leaning against Daniel's desk.
"I can't stop dreaming about the same place," Daniel admitted. "A gate. Chains. Someone calling me Keeper. It's insane."
Xavier's expression tightened. "Maybe you should tell Maren."
"She'll just say it's the wind again." Daniel sighed. "Honestly, I'm starting to think I'm losing it."
"You're not." Xavier's tone was firm — too firm. "Just… don't ignore it. Sometimes dreams mean more than you think."
"Why do you sound like you know something?"
Before Xavier could answer, the bell rang.
---
After classes, Leah caught up with Daniel outside. "Hey, are you okay? You look like you haven't slept in a week."
"Just weird dreams," he said. "Nothing big."
"Well, you missed something big." She lowered her voice. "Two hunters went missing near the north woods. They found their gear, but not their bodies."
Daniel frowned. "What do you mean, not their bodies?"
"They're just… gone." Leah shivered. "People are saying the forest is cursed again."
Cursed. The word made Daniel's stomach twist. He remembered Maren's warning.
The forest is restless tonight.
---
That evening, as Daniel walked home alone, the world felt too quiet. The sun had set, but the mist glowed faintly blue — the same strange light he'd seen before.
Then came the whisper again.
> "Keeper…"
He froze. "Who's there?"
> "The Gate weakens. The darkness stirs."
"Stop it!" he shouted. "I'm not your Keeper!"
> "Not yet."
A gust of wind tore through the trees, scattering leaves. When it passed, Daniel realized he was standing at the edge of the woods — and in the mud before him was a single black feather.
---
He didn't tell Maren this time.
Didn't tell Xavier either.
But that night, long after everyone had gone to sleep, Daniel sat by the window, staring at the forest and clutching the feather tight. Somewhere deep inside, he already knew the truth he didn't want to admit:
Whatever was calling to him…
was getting closer.