Chapter 12: Blank
In the dead folds of a dimension untethered to space or time, silence reigned—a silence that was neither peaceful nor still. The air, if one could call it that, shimmered with thick, slow pulses of color: burning purples, molten oranges, fractured hues of emerald and black bleeding into one another like melting ink. Skies danced overhead in a swirling storm of distortion, never staying one color long enough to be understood. This place did not exist on any map, nor did it obey any known rules of nature. And in its center stood a man.
His form was crooked but upright, tall and theatrical. Draped in fabric too chaotic to describe, stitched from ribbons of velvet and leather and ash. Feathers jutted from one sleeve, a strip of chain dragged from his collar, and his boots—unmatched and ancient—clicked against ground that bent beneath his steps. His face, obscured by shadows, never came into focus. Only the curl of a wide grin was visible in the shifting dark, and his eyes—if they existed—remained hidden.
He whispered to himself, breath shaky with excitement. "Well done."
With one sweeping gesture, his gloved hand rose, pointing toward the sky that roared and twisted above. "Let the hunt begin." And smiled creepy in the void dimension.
From between his fingers, a small black card dangled.
Intricately pressed into the card's surface was the symbol of a lion ablaze with fire. The same emblem that had been found in the alleyway back in Solkarion—the very same design Kaeron and Eliana had both stared at with rising unease. But this card was different.
The figure flipped it slowly in his hand. Where others held cryptic messages, this one bore only a single, chilling detail on its back: the number 4, carved in subtle silver ink.
With a crackle of smoke and a burst of colorless dust, the figure vanished into the sky. The space where he had stood bent inward and then exploded outward in silence, erasing all trace of him.
Back in the real world, the alley near Solkarion's southern quarter was now teeming with people. The earlier stillness had been devoured by the passage of time and the churning of life. Vehicles moved past. Voices echoed across the layered streets. Eliana stood at the edge of it all, eyes darting through the crowd, but the man—the one who had handed her that cursed warning—was gone.
A voice snapped her out of her search.
"Hey. What's up with those little sweats?"
She turned swiftly. Auren stood a few paces away, his usual calm expression in place. He raised an eyebrow, subtly scanning her with his eyes.
Eliana caught her breath, blinking. With a flick of her hand, she brushed away the fine line of sweat on her temple and forced a light smile. "It's nothing," she replied, too quickly. "Just... felt like someone familiar was nearby."
Auren watched her. His gaze lingered longer than it should have.
He didn't believe her.
But he also didn't challenge her. Instead, he offered a small nod, saying nothing more, and fell into step beside her as she turned to head toward home. Their conversation was light—unimportant, a collection of half-hearted thoughts and forgettable topics exchanged only to pass the time.
It wasn't long before they reached the edge of her block.
She turned, finally pausing at the gate to her home. Her fingers lingered on the latch as she looked back at him. "Thanks for walking with me."
"Anytime," he said simply.
With a final wave, she entered through the gate, disappearing into the quiet comfort of her home. But behind her, her mind was not at peace.
Everything about the day felt disjointed. Wrong.
The man in black. His words. The flower. The card. The number.
They all swirled in her mind, tangled in uncertainty and laced with quiet dread.
Auren lingered at the gate for a moment, glancing once at the closed door before turning away. His steps were slow, deliberate, heading back down the path they had walked only moments before. His usual easy demeanor masked something deeper this time—a gnawing feeling in his gut that refused to be shaken.
He retraced the steps. Not out of boredom. Not out of coincidence. But curiosity.
Something about the look on her face hadn't sat right with him. He had known Eliana long enough to read the difference between her bright smile and the walls she built with it. And what he saw earlier wasn't fear. It was worse.
Recognition.
She had seen something she knew, or someone. And it had unsettled her.
He made it back to the alley, now quieter, with only the breeze sweeping through the narrow passage. The place looked ordinary. Unremarkable. But Auren's eyes didn't miss details. He scanned everything—the walls, the pavement, even the rooftops. He ran his fingers lightly along the bricks, as if they might whisper secrets back to him.
Nothing.
He exhaled, half turning to leave.
Then he saw it.
A small black card, nearly buried in the dust by the curb.
At first glance, he almost ignored it. Just a piece of litter. But Solkarion wasn't a city that tolerated random trash. Not in these sectors.
He bent down, picking it up with a mild intention to throw it in the nearest bin.
But then he looked at it.
The card was strange. Heavy. The surface felt cold to the touch, with a texture like pressed steel wrapped in paper. Its front bore a symbol—a lion engulfed in fire. Auren's brow furrowed.
He'd heard about this.
Not from the person who held it. But from a conversation.
Kaeron. Eliana. Xavier. A mention of a black card. A mysterious man. A warning. The way the teacher's expression had changed when they described it.
His pulse quickened as he flipped it over.
But the back was blank.
No number. No message. Just empty, void space.
The card felt heavier now.
He stood there for a moment, unsure what to make of it. It was just a card. But it wasn't.
And somehow, this blank space told him more than any words could.
Something was happening.
And it had already begun.