Prologue

Chaos ripped through his mind. Screams, distorted voices, and shadows clashed, a storm of agony. The world shattered around him, every scream a dagger in his chest. He was trapped, drowning in the darkness. No escape.

No escape.

The nightmare bled into reality, tearing him apart.

"Argh!"

Seven jolted awake. His breath was ragged. His chest rose and fell rapidly. Sweat clung to his skin, making his clothes stick uncomfortably.

He gasped. His heart pounded against his ribs like a drum of war. The nightmare still lingered, its ghostly whispers refusing to fade. The images, twisted faces, agonized screams, shadows consuming light, remained burned into his mind.

Trembling, he wiped his forehead. He swung his legs off the bed, his feet touching the cold floor. He needed to wake up, really wake up.

Standing up, his legs wobbled, unsteady like a newborn fawn. He forced himself forward towards the bathroom one step at a time. When he flicked the switch, the old light above flickered, humming weakly before fully turning on.

He lifted his gaze to the mirror. A stranger stared back.

Dark circles painted under his eyes, evidence of sleepless nights. His skin was pale, almost sickly. His hair clung messily to his forehead, damp with sweat. His lips, dry and cracked, parted slightly as he breathed heavily.

The boy in the mirror looked exhausted. Worn. Hollow.

"Just a dream," he muttered. His voice was barely a whisper. A reassurance to himself.

But saying it didn't make it true.

He turned on the tap. Cold water. A splash. A deep breath. The icy sensation sent a jolt through his system, grounding him. Yet, the unease still clung to him, a thick fog that refused to lift.

He dried his face and looked again.

The dreams were sinking into him. Etching something deep inside. Carving something out of him.

But what?

Was he losing his mind?

Maybe.

But he couldn't afford to think about that now.

He needed to move.

**

The clock read 6:30 AM. The world outside was still caught in the fragile stillness between night and day, where the sky remained a deep, inky blue, only beginning to yield to the first traces of dawn.

The air carried a crisp chill, the kind that bit at the skin yet felt oddly refreshing.

Seven tried to shake off the lingering heaviness in his mind as he stepped out of the room and into the hall.

The faint sound of sizzling oil and the rhythmic clatter of utensils greeted him from the kitchen. A warm glow spilled into the hallway, and the soft scent of eggs and toast wafted through the air.

Standing at the stove was a woman, her long dark hair cascading down her back, slightly tousled from sleep. Loose strands framed her sharp yet delicate features, and her deep brown eyes held the quiet focus of someone lost in routine.

She wore an oversized sweater that draped over her small frame, the sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal slender wrists. Despite her tired posture, there was a certain warmth in her presence, calm, steady. His sister named Rain.

Rain had always been an early riser, just like him. It was a habit she never broke, waking up at dawn, making breakfast, moving through the motions of the morning like clockwork. Seven leaned against the doorway, watching her for a moment before speaking.

"I'm heading out," he said, his voice still rough from sleep.

His sister glanced back at him, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Morning jog?"

He nodded.

"Alright, be safe." She turned back to the stove, flipping the eggs with practiced ease.

Then, almost as an afterthought, she added, "Want me to save you some?"

Seven hesitated for a second before shaking his head.

"I'll eat later."

"Okies," she said simply, her voice light and unconcerned.

With that, he grabbed his coat and stepped outside.

The cold air greeted him instantly, sharp yet strangely welcome. His breath curled in the morning air, a fleeting mist that dissipated as quickly as it formed.

**

The streets were eerily quiet, the last traces of night lingering at the edges of the city. Streetlights flickered uncertainly, their glow fading against the creeping dawn.

The damp pavement glistened with early morning dew.

Seven walked without thinking, his footsteps the only sound in the stillness. This solitude should have been calming, a fleeting peace before the world woke. Yet unease clung to him, heavy and suffocating, as if the dream refused to let go.

Seven walked, his mind foggy with exhaustion. He had walked this path countless times, but today felt different, an unfamiliar presence in the air. He shuddered, dismissing it as sleep deprivation, and kept moving.

It started as a whisper in the air, a subtle shift that made Seven pause. The city lights flickered, a brief glitch in the world's fabric.

Just as he took a step, something changed. The air rippled, a faint, invisible force pushing at him, urging him to move. He froze, heart pounding, unsure of what was happening.

Before he could react, the air cracked, reality-bending with a quiet, unnerving snap.

The ground vanished, and the world dissolved into a suffocating darkness. He reached out, but there was nothing to grasp, just the endless pull of the void and silence, as he fell into the unknown.

Then, as suddenly as it started, the fall stopped.

****

The darkness swallowed him whole.

Seven jolted upright, breath sharp, heart pounding.

Not his room.

Not anywhere he knew.

His mind reeled, still tangled in the remnants of a dream, no, a nightmare. But the weight in his chest told him this was real. Too real. The world around him was gone. And for the first time in his life, Seven was truly, utterly alone.

The image of his sister, Rain, back at home, flashed in his mind.

What if she was caught in the quake too? Was she safe? The worry gnawed at him, but he pushed it down for the moment, unsure of how to help her from wherever, or whatever, his was.

He forced himself to open his eyes, hoping for some clarity, but there was no difference. The darkness didn't shift or fade, and the world around him remained unchanged. It was as if the very concept of light had ceased to exist.

Hesitantly, Seven took a step forward, only to find himself falling once more.

This time, there was no ground beneath him, just the cold, unforgiving air.

A sharp gasp escaped his lips as gravity seized him, dragging him downward into the suffocating blackness. His arms flailed instinctively, reaching for something, anything, to stop his descent. But there was nothing. His fingers clawed at empty space, grasping at the void itself.

There was no one there. No one to catch him.

A sharp, jarring collision sent pain lancing through his body. His breath tore from his lungs as he tumbled, his limbs slamming into something hard and uneven.

Stairs. He was rolling down stairs.

He couldn't see them, but he felt them. The jagged edges bashing against his ribs, his arms, his legs. Each strike stole more air from his lungs, each bounce disoriented him further.

The fall didn't end.

It went on and on, five seconds, ten seconds, maybe longer, before the final step sent him sprawling forward, pain flaring across his body as he crashed onto something solid.

"Ahh, it hurts!"

The words left him without thinking, his voice small in the crushing emptiness.

His chest heaved, lungs burning as he struggled to regain control of his breath. His body ached, the echoes of his fall still reverberating through his bones. Slowly, he pushed himself up, arms trembling beneath his weight.

The darkness remained absolute.

It was suffocating, heavy, pressing in on all sides. His eyes strained against it, but there was no difference between having them open or closed. Sight had no meaning here.

Seven kneeled on the cold ground, hesitating as he reached out with his hand, feeling for some sort of anchor.

His fingertips brushed against the rough texture of the floor. Carefully, he patted the ground around him, testing for stability, afraid to make another mistake and fall once more.

As his hand swept across the floor, Seven found a small sense of control, a faint thread of reassurance. But the silence and emptiness around him were suffocating, threatening to drag him deeper into confusion.

Where was he?

What was this place?

How was he supposed to escape?

The questions echoed in his mind, but the darkness offered no answers, only a crushing pressure.

Then, 

"Kiiiek!"

The screeching sound shattered the oppressive silence, making Seven's heart leap in his chest.

It was a sharp, high-pitched cry, like something in agony or a beast in pain.

The noise surrounded him, echoing through the darkness, coming from everywhere and nowhere. It wasn't just loud, it was raw, a guttural wail that crawled into his bones.

His body froze, muscles tense and immobile. The sound sliced through him like a blade, deep into his chest, refusing to let go.

Every part of him screamed to run, to move, to escape the source of the noise. His heart pounded in his ears, his fists clenched at his sides.

But there was no escape. His feet were stuck, his legs as stiff as stone. He couldn't move, couldn't force his body to act. He felt like a prisoner inside his own skin, trapped by fear.

There was no light, no landmarks, nothing that gave him a sense of direction.

He couldn't even tell if his eyes were open or closed, his vision was as black as if the very concept of sight had been stolen from him. It was as if he were submerged in a void, floating in nothingness, each breath feeling like it might be his last.

'Move, move! Damn it!'

His body betrayed him.

His thoughts spiraled faster than he could control them.

What was that sound?

Was it a wild animal?

A monster?

Was something lurking in the dark, just beyond his reach?

The thought made his skin crawl. And still, he couldn't move, couldn't act. His body wouldn't listen.

It was as if his own flesh had turned against him, refusing to follow his desperate commands.

'What is happening?' The question was a silent scream in his mind, echoing over and over, tumbling through his thoughts.

Was this real?

Was this just a nightmare?

A hallucination? His mind reeled with possibilities, trying to latch onto any explanation that made sense. But every thought felt jumbled, disconnected, slipping through his fingers like water.

What was this place?

Where was he?

Was he even alive?

The questions came faster now, each one more frantic, more desperate than the last. He tried to calm himself, to take control of his racing mind, but it was like trying to hold onto a fraying thread. He couldn't focus, couldn't center himself. His own thoughts felt like they were attacking him, pulling him in different directions until his chest tightened and his breath quickened.

'Calm down. Stay calm. You can do this, Seven.'

He took a breath, trying to force his body to react, to move, but all he could do was sit there in the cold, crushing darkness. The world around him felt like it was collapsing, folding in on itself, and he was trapped in the middle of it all, alone. Alone and unable to escape.

The screech echoed again, deeper and more unnatural, vibrating through his bones. His heart skipped a beat, pulse racing.

Was it getting closer? The thought of something, anything, emerging from the dark, reaching for him, was overwhelming. The air seemed to shrink, suffocating him, as if the darkness itself was alive and hungry. The pressure on his chest grew, and he felt trapped. There was nowhere to run. No one to help.

Seven's mind screamed for an answer, for a way out, but all that remained was the deafening silence and the relentless screech.

The only truth left was that he was utterly, hopelessly alone.

****

After what felt like an eternity, Seven forced himself to take deep, shaky breaths. Slowly, his ragged gasps calmed, and the tightness in his chest loosened. His trembling hands obeyed, flexing one finger at a time. The strength returned, grounding him back to reality, whatever that reality was.

Slowly, carefully, he shifted his weight, inching his body toward his left side.

His movements were deliberate, almost methodical, every motion cautious as if the very act of breathing too deeply might trigger the return of the fear that still clung to him.

His fingers scraped against the cold, smooth floor, a faint reminder that he was still grounded in this unfamiliar place.

The sensation, although unsettling, was better than the suffocating fear of being utterly adrift.

He was determined to find something, anything, to hold onto. A wall, perhaps, to guide him, to break the crushing silence that surrounded him.

He couldn't afford to be careless, couldn't afford to panic again. His heart thudded in his ears, drowning out everything else, but he fought to steady it, fought to focus.

'Just a wall, just something to help you get your bearings', he thought, trying to keep his mind from spiraling again. Slowly, his hands moved along the ground, seeking anything solid in the darkness, his fingertips brushing against the cold floor, feeling for an edge, a corner, something, anything.

With fear gripping his heart, Seven let out a hollow laugh. "Huh, just when I was thinking of getting my life back to normal, the world decides to break apart."

Then, his fingers met something. Cold. Rough. The surface was uneven, like stone or thick stonework. A wall, he almost let out a breath of relief, but instead he pressed his palm flat against it, feeling for any imperfections, cracks, or openings.

The texture of the surface was familiar in a way that almost seemed comforting. He let his hand linger for a moment, taking a few deep breaths to steady himself further before continuing his exploration.

The darkness still surrounded him, and his mind still screamed with questions, but at least now he had something, something that could offer him direction. He leaned against the wall, letting it support him for a moment, his head spinning slightly from the disorientation.

Still, it was better than the fear of being lost in the void.

Whatever had happened, wherever he was now, it was real. The nightmare from earlier hadn't just been a dream.

It had been something far worse, something he couldn't yet understand. But he had to keep moving.

For some reason, something felt familiar to Seven, as if he had been here before.

As Seven followed the wall, his hand brushed against something solid, a door.

"Finally, a damn door" he muttered under his breath. With a mix of relief and desperation, he pushed it, then pulled.

The door creaked open, revealing another layer of darkness, thicker and more oppressive than the one he had just left behind. Before he could step through, a chilling shriek shattered the silence, and he froze.

Something was in the darkness, and whatever it was, it had already noticed him.