Into The Unknown

Viole's footstep echoed against the stone streets as he moved closer to Azael. A strange weight pressed against his chest—not fear, but something heavier, something that made his breath quicken.

Azael stood unmoving, their outstretched hand waiting. "You've taken the first step," they murmured. "Good."

Ha-eun shifted behind him. "Be careful, Viole," she warned, her voice edged with something unfamiliar. Worry? Distrust?

He turned to her, searching her face, but she remained unreadable. He wasn't sure why, but the thought unsettled him.

Then Azael moved. With a sweep of their cloak, they turned and walked toward a narrow alley at the edge of the square. The shadows there seemed deeper than they should be, swallowing the edges of their form.

Viole hesitated, then followed.

The moment he stepped past the first row of buildings, the noise of the city dulled. It was as if they had crossed into another space—one where sound struggled to exist.

"This place…" Viole muttered, glancing around. The air was thick, humming with an energy that made his skin prickle. The buildings here were older, worn by time, their windows shuttered as if the very city itself had turned its gaze away.

Azael stopped in front of a door set into a crumbling stone wall. Without a word, they raised their hand, and the silver embroidery on their cloak shimmered. The door creaked open.

Inside was darkness. Deep, consuming.

Viole's breath hitched. The thing inside him—the shadow coiling in his veins—stirred.

"Step through," Azael said softly.

Viole swallowed hard. Every part of his mind screamed at him to stop. But another part—something deeper, something older—urged him forward.

He clenched his fists. Whatever lay beyond, he had to know.

He stepped inside.

And the world vanished.