Elena stepped out of the room quietly, her bare feet brushing the cool wooden floor. The house was silent except for the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. Afternoon light slanted through the windows, golden and calm. But inside her, nothing was calm.
She turned to the right—there was a door, slightly ajar. A soft glow flickered from within. Her curiosity tugged at her feet, pulling her forward.
She peeked inside.
Sean stood alone, his back hunched over something on the table. He wasn't moving. He seemed... absorbed, almost possessed.
Elena stepped in slowly. That's when she saw it.
A piece of cloth—deep brown, almost black, rough at the edges like it had been torn from time itself. Strange symbols shimmered across its surface, not glowing but breathing, pulsing gently like a heartbeat. It looked as though it belonged in a temple—or a tomb.
She spoke softly. "What is that?"
Sean didn't look up at first. Then slowly, without facing her, he answered, "You mean this?"
He lifted the cloth slightly, letting the dim light catch the etchings on it. They seemed to move beneath the surface, whispering secrets in a language only the dead could understand.
Elena took a cautious step forward. "I've never seen anything like that. It looks… old. Hidden. Like something that's not meant to be found."
She reached out to touch it.
The moment her fingers brushed it, something in the air changed. It grew still and heavy, as though all magic nearby had been silenced. She felt cold, but not afraid. It felt like protection. She picked it up with both hands.
"Put it down," Sean said sharply, snatching it back.
The force of it surprised her. "What's wrong with you?"
"That's not something you can just play with," he snapped, folding the cloth tightly. "It's not a toy. It's special—dangerous."
Elena stared at him. He was sweating slightly, even though the room was cool. His eyes darted, refusing to meet hers. She'd never seen him look so unsettled. She sighed and sat down, folding her arms. "I don't get you. You sit here with something like that while the world is burning. And I'm just supposed to keep hiding?"
Sean turned slowly. "Elena…"
"No," she said, her voice rising. "I'm tired, Sean. Tired of doing nothing. Tired of hiding and pretending like this is normal. My mom is out there. My dad? I don't even know where he is. And those monsters are still out there doing God knows what!"
She stood, fists clenched.
"If I knew where their lair was… if I had even a clue…"
Sean's voice cut in, calm but firm. "So what would you do? Walk into their den alone? Fight them with nothing?"
"I would try!" she shouted. "Because sitting here every day, feeling useless, is killing me. At least I would've done someithing."
Sean walked closer, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You might die, Elena. And to add to it, the Alchemys don't fancy women. They despise them."
"Why?" She asked a bit confused.
"Forget it" he said flatly.
"Then at least it'll be fighting for someone who mattered."
He sighed deeply and walked away, sitting in the corner, defeated. "You won't listen."
Elena lowered her head, pretending to surrender but she had already made her decision.
Night fell slowly. The wind outside howled through the trees, brushing against the windows like ghosts seeking entry.
Elena lay still on the couch, fully dressed under the blanket. Her eyes stayed open, watching the minutes crawl by. When the house was completely silent, she rose. She tiptoed toward Sean's room.
His door creaked faintly as she pushed it open. The moonlight spilled across the bed. Sean lay curled to one side, his breathing deep but uneven.
Her eyes found the drawer beside his bed. That's where the key must be.
She stepped forward.
Suddenly, he shifted. She froze, her hand halfway to the drawer handle. He murmured something in his sleep, turning onto his back.
She held her breath,waited, then slowly, she opened the drawer. The key glinted in the moonlight.She reached in, careful not to let it jingle.Got it.
He stirred again—one arm flopping over the edge of the bed. She took a step back, heart thudding.
Still asleep.
She turned to the drawer where the box was kept and opened it.
Inside, the cloth lay folded neatly—dark, old, strange. But she wasn't thinking about that now.
She was thinking about the cold wind outside, the way it had bitten her skin the last time she stepped into the woods,then she packed her hair backwards, grabbed the cloth and wrapped it around her shoulders without a second thought using the hood of the cloak to hide her face.
The air outside was freezing. Her breath misted as she pulled the cloak tighter around her. The old cloth—now tucked into a satchel—seemed to warm slightly against her body, as if it recognized her touch.
She walked quickly through the trees toward the city. The woods were dark, the moon barely lighting the way. Every sound felt sharper in the night—twigs snapping, leaves rustling.She kept her head low.
"I'll be back before he wakes up," she told herself. "Just a few questions… that's all."
Then, she saw it.
Carved into the bark of a tree—an alchemy symbol. Fresh.
She stopped, staring. A strange cold filled her chest.
They were here. Or had been. Or somewhere close.
She pulled the cloth tighter around her, lowering her head further.
She picked up the pace.
But then—
A sharp sting—like a needle—struck her neck.
She gasped, her vision spinning. Her legs stumbled beneath her.
The last thing she saw was the sky above the trees—fading into black.
When she awoke, it was with a gasp. Stone. Cold. Wet.
She was lying on a hard floor, her limbs sore. She blinked, trying to sit up, and realized—she still had the cloth. It was wrapped around her shoulders with the hoodie still on, slightly damp from the floor, but warm.
She clutched it tighter without realizing why. Her only comfort in this place.
The walls were thick, the ceiling hidden in shadow. No door. No window.
Her breath quickened.
"Where am I?"
She stumbled to her feet, using the wall for balance. Her fingers found nothing but rough stone.
She pounded her fists against it. "Let me out!"
The air tasted like iron. She could hear something dripping in the distance. Somewhere deep in the dark, a chain dragged slowly.
She sat down, back against the wall, breathing heavily, pulling the cloth close again.Her fingers were still trembling from the earlier pounding, her throat sore from screaming. There was no answer—only silence.
She pressed her hand to the wall again. This time slower than before. Her palm brushed along the rough surface, and suddenly— a sharp sting.
She yelped and pulled her hand back.
Blood.
A thin gash had opened across her palm, bleeding quickly. She stared at the wall in shock.
"What the...?"
She looked closer. There was no nail, no blade, no stone sharp enough to do that.
Then, the wall groaned.
The stone itself began to shift, slowly, painfully—like something underneath had finally awakened.
She staggered backward, eyes wide with fear.
Cracks crawled through the wall like veins. Dust fell in clouds, and the sound of stone breaking echoed through the dungeon. She backed up until her spine hit the opposite wall, watching in frozen horror.
Then, with a sudden thud—something fell out of the wall.
A body.
Covered in dust, wrapped in tattered cloth, limbs stiff as if they hadn't moved in years. He collapsed on the ground, unmoving, chest barely rising.
Elena stared at him, unsure if he was alive or already dead.
He was pale. Too pale. His skin almost blue, lips cracked, eyes shut tight.
She crept closer, still shaking, whispering, "Hello? Can you hear me?"
Nothing.He didn't even flinch.
She reached out, touched his arm. Ice. His skin was like frozen stone.
Her bleeding hand throbbed again. Blood still ran from the cut.
Was he dead?
She didn't know how long she stood there—seconds? A minute?—before the boy moved.
He flinched, gasping suddenly, sucking in air like it was his first breath in forever.
His eyes opened, but they didn't settle on her right away. He rolled slightly, coughing, groaning in pain. His hand reached out blindly to the floor, fingers scraping the stone.
Elena's voice came out barely above a whisper. "Who... are you?"
But he didn't answer.
His eyes finally landed on her. Wide. Uncertain. He sat up slowly, his breathing shallow, body weak. He looked around the dark cell like someone waking from a long nightmare.
Neither of them spoke. They just stared at each other.
Two strangers.
Two prisoners.
One just woke up from a wall.
And neither knew what the hell was happening.