"Where am I?"
Darkness. All-consuming and endless.
Then the black begins to dissolve into blurred shapes—walls, shelves, papers scattered everywhere. A squared office, cold and familiar. The faint hum of fluorescent lights flickering above, casting a pale glow over the chaos. It was the office Icey—no, Cassa—used to work in.
She—he—walked slowly through the wreckage. The rustle of crumpled papers echoed with every step. The air was thick with dust, like breathing through gauze. Then, a glint in the corner of their vision—a mirror.
The figure in the reflection stopped them cold.
It was Cassa, staring back.
Her long hair clung to her face, matted with blood. A deep gash split her forehead. Her lifeless eyes locked onto Icey's, and her mouth began to open as if to scream.
Then—a shadow moved.
At the edge of the mirror, a man appeared. Dark, featureless, wrong. He charged. The glass shattered.
Icey woke up.
Gasping. Sweat drenched his body, the sheets tangled around his legs. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he tried to calm himself, hand instinctively reaching up to rub his throbbing temple.
"A dream," he muttered under his breath.
The early morning light filtered weakly through the clouds, casting a dim silver glow into the room. Outside his window, the sky hung low with heavy clouds. It smelled faintly of damp earth and coming rain.
He stood, feet cold on the wooden floor, and trudged toward the bathroom. As he opened the door, he nearly bumped into his father.
"Kiddo, it's still early for you," his father said, adjusting his guard uniform and running a hand through his graying hair.
Icey didn't respond, just yawned and turned the faucet on. The cold water shocked him awake. He grabbed his toothbrush and began brushing mechanically. From the corridor, two voices drifted in—one of them unfamiliar.
Curious, he crept to the edge of the hallway, peeking out.
His father stood at the front door speaking with another man in uniform.
"We have a big request today," the co-worker said, his voice low.
"Yeah. Another kid's gone missing. Near the old lumber house again," his father replied grimly.
Missing? Icey's ears perked up.
They mentioned a seven-year-old child. Disappeared while playing near the forest, close to the lumberjack's house. No witnesses. No cameras. Just... gone.
Icey quietly returned to finish brushing. A chill settled in his chest. No clues. No leads. Just like the past life he tried to forget.
In the kitchen, the smell of warm porridge filled the air. Ariel, his little sister, giggled in her high chair, her spoon tapping the table like a drum.
"Say 'aah'," Icey cooed, feeding her a spoonful. She giggled more, her cheeks puffed like dumplings. His mother chuckled from the sink.
A knock echoed through the house.
"Icey, go check it out," his mother said without turning.
With a slight sigh, Icey headed for the door. The moment he opened it, a blinding flash of golden hair greeted him.
Klyden.
Icey immediately scowled.
"Good morning, Mrs. Waxzi! Good morning little Ariel!" Klyden chirped as he stepped in without invitation.
"What are you doing here?" Icey grumbled.
"I came to ask your mom if I can walk with you to school tomorrow!"
Icey's eyes narrowed. Of course. He knew I'd say no, so he's going straight to my mom.
"Of course, sweet Klyden," his mother replied with a smile, handing him a plate of cookies.
Klyden sat cheerfully, chomping down as if he lived there.
"You know how stubborn Icey is, so I'm leaving him in your care," Audinna said with a grin.
"Of course!" Klyden beamed.
Icey stared at them, dumbfounded. What the hell just happened?
---
The backyard near the woods was overgrown and tangled, dotted with wildflowers and tree stumps. The air was thick with the scent of pine and moist earth. Birds chirped unseen, and a cool breeze whispered through the leaves.
"How long are you going to follow me?" Icey snapped.
Klyden trailed behind, eyes sparkling. "Forever!"
Icey shook his head. Klyden wore a long-sleeved shirt and dark shorts. Icey had on suspenders attached to plain pants, the straps occasionally slipping off his shoulders as he stomped forward.
"Hey, did you know our high school has a group?" Klyden asked.
"Yeah, genius. High schools always have groups."
"No, not normal ones! Like... gangs!"
Icey sighed deeply. Why do I even entertain this kid?
Then Klyden grew quiet.
"Do you find me annoying?" he asked suddenly.
Icey stopped, blinking at the question. Klyden stared back, uncharacteristically serious.
A long pause.
Then Klyden broke the tension with a grin. "As you should!"
Icey rolled his eyes.
But as Klyden walked ahead, Icey muttered under his breath, "No. I don't."
Klyden paused, then continued walking, a faint smile on his face.
They followed a dirt path deeper into the woods. The trees thickened, the sky above nearly disappearing behind their branches.
"There's a river up here," Klyden said.
And there was.
The river glistened under the filtered light. Its waters moved gently, over smooth stones and darting fish. A wooden bridge crossed it, old and worn but intact. Birds fluttered across the banks, chirping like gossiping neighbors.
On the other side, nestled behind thick brush, was something else.
"What's that?" Icey pointed.
An old, wooden structure. Mostly hidden, but definitely manmade.
They crossed the bridge, shoes creaking against old planks. As they drew closer, the air shifted. Still. Heavy. Silent.
An abandoned house.
The wood was gray and splintering. Ivy had crawled halfway up the sides. A window was shattered. Something about it made Icey's skin crawl.
Around the side, an axe was embedded in a stump. Rusted, the handle chipped.
Then—
BANG.
A loud thump from inside. Icey and Klyden froze.
Klyden's face went pale.
"Should we check it out?" Icey asked.
Klyden hesitated, then nodded and clutched Icey's arm.
They approached slowly. The door creaked open with a screech that echoed in the trees.
And the smell—
Rot. Old blood. Decay. It hit them like a wall.
Klyden immediately turned and vomited into the bushes.
Icey stood frozen.
A sack soaked in blood sat in the center of the room. Flies buzzed angrily. In the corner, hanging from a beam—
A child's body.
Icey couldn't breathe. He couldn't scream. His mind went blank. His limbs locked.
What… is this… he whispered.
Klyden yanked him back and slammed the door shut, trembling violently.
"W-we have to report this," Klyden stammered.
Icey could barely register the words. Rage and nausea twisted in his stomach.
They ran. Faster than they thought possible. Back home.
Ethan, Icey's father, listened in stunned silence before rushing to report the scene.
Hours later, the truth surfaced.
The missing child had been found. Dead. Abused. Murdered.
The suspect? The lumberjack. Fingerprints confirmed it. DNA tests revealed unthinkable crimes.
Fucking monster, Icey thought, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.
Klyden was taken home by Ethan. Icey stayed behind, numb.
Two emotions warred within him: Rage, for the vile injustice. And guilt, for misjudging Klyden.
That boy—scared, anxious—still shielded him when it mattered.
Icey stared at the moonlight slipping through his curtains. A memory surfaced from earlier.
Klyden's wrist. A bruise.
Not from falling. Not clumsiness.
From something else.
Icey's eyes darkened.
"I'll return the good you've done for me," he whispered.
And the moon disappeared behind a cloud.