Scene 1 — School Library, Late Afternoon
The library smelled of old books and dust. Sunlight slanted through tall windows, cutting the shadows in half.
Akira sat at a table, flipping through notes, but her gaze kept drifting toward the tall boy across the room.
Kylori Meykami Genesis.
He wasn't reading. His eyes scanned everything: the way sunlight fractured on the shelves, the air shifting with passing students, shadows curling unnaturally at the corners.
No one else noticed, but the edges of his shadow flickered slightly, moving independently.
---
Scene 2 — Flashback
Rain lashed a crumbling church orphanage. Young Kylori crouched beneath a narrow staircase, watching the older children scream in terror.
A figure loomed—a priest, but not fully human. His shadow stretched impossibly across the walls, moving with intent. Whispers slithered in the air:
> "They are yours, if you dare take them."
Kylori's small hands trembled. He didn't yet know the full extent, but the shadows, the horrors, would obey him.
He touched the darkness instinctively. It listened.
> Some doors are not meant to be closed…
A hand touched his shoulder. Cold. Infinite.
> "You are the doorway," a voice whispered. "The rest will kneel… or be collected."
The memory shattered like glass, leaving only the faint echo of rain and whispers.
---
Scene 3 — Present
The library hummed faintly. Books rattled. The flicker of movement in the corner of the room caught Kylori's eye.
An eldritch entity had entered: liquid shadow, faintly pulsing crimson light, limbs jagged and twitching as it searched for prey.
Students remained oblivious, whispering about missing classmates.
Kylori stood. Shadows from his body extended subtly, brushing the edges of reality. The entity froze, sensing something beyond comprehension.
Without a word, Kylori's tendrils of darkness coiled around it. The creature writhed—but instinctively knew it could not fight.
It became another fragment of Kylori's collection. Its consciousness remained intact, aware—but utterly powerless.
Akira watched, unaware of what truly occurred. She only noticed the subtle pull of the shadows, the way the air seemed heavier around him, the faint terror that rippled outward.
> Nothing is ever explained. Nothing is ever shown… yet everything is felt.
Kylori returned to his seat, shadows retracting. The crimson pulses of the subdued entity vanished into the corners of the room, leaving only a subtle chill.
Akira tilted her head, curiosity piqued. "Something's… off," she muttered.
The audience already knew: Kylori Meykami Genesis was not a boy. He was the doorway, the collection, and a danger far beyond what anyone could comprehend.