Chapter 3: What some Darkness Creates

The world is slowly burning.

But the people are indifferent to it, not believing anything as they sit comfortably at their homes, watching television.

In every household, the news alights disasters, calamities, and tragedies.

And they would eat chicken soups, play video games, and sleep peacefully.

It's because the end of the world is not happening this hour.

It has always been near.

52 rue al Sonette Paris, France – an exquisite, neat, and tranquil house of the Rousseau family, the household where Camille used to reside.

Mrs. Claire Rousseau gracefully reads the Le Petit Prince by de Saint-Exupery to her brilliant son, Arthur.

Her husband deftly does his necktie beside them, in front of a mirror, chancing glances toward them.

"Has Camille not returned yet?" Albert Rousseau's deep, manly voice made Mrs. Claire stop.

"She's still not in her room," She cleared her throat. "Do you have any ideas where she might be?"

"Rosalina, her maid, might have an idea."

"Call for her, then."

As Mr. Albert's footsteps fade away, trudging to the servant's room, Arthur looks up to her mother. "I don't think my sister Camille will return anytime soon," He innocently said. "I saw her."

Mrs. Claire softly closed the book and faced her young child. "Where'd you last see your sister? And where is she now?"

"She was being swallowed in a black hole when I saw her."

Mrs. Claire was utterly bewildered.

She could've just brushed this off as a joke or a child's mere wild imagination.

If only Arthur was not known as a child prodigy acclaimed for being rational.

Meanwhile, in a devilishly magical world, Camille sits before the long golden table of the castle's feast and fills her plate with tasty-looking foods.

She swallows a spoon-filled portion of the meal and the aroma erupts through her senses.

It's delicious.

She ate some more until she couldn't stop her mouth from chewing or her hands from keeping the spoon and food going.

It's delicious, she thought.

She feared that she might die or get cursed from eating, but she wouldn't mind that at all now after tasting it.

A bluish glowing light traced her chest and it was beating at the same rhythm with her heart.

The taste and her senses mingled into a confusing memory. She remembered her days of childhood then.

It didn't used to be so tiring or helpless.

Until she reached the age of 13, everything was fine.

One day, the young Camille woke up feeling so heavy that she cried without sobbing. Her warm tears kept falling, her throat aching, and her head throbbing.

She doesn't know why something in her hurts, but it hurts.