eybaba

Arthur Winner is a boy who lives in the modern world, unaware of the dark legacy within him—the last fragment of Azrael’s soul, the Angel of Death. Since childhood, his life has been filled with pain and suffering; his mother once tried to kill him, but his father saved him at the last moment. Years later, betrayal strikes again when his girlfriend cheats on him with his closest friend, shattering the little trust he had in the world.

On one of the darkest days of his life, after a fight with that very close friend led to his temporary suspension from school, he spent the first day of his suspension in quiet solitude at home. But that silence didn’t last long. A mysterious voice called out to him… and following the sound, he was led to the basement, where a truth beyond his comprehension awaited him—a secret that might change his destiny forever.

But is he ready to accept the fate that has been written for him?

Legacy of Death

Arthur's mind plunged into a void, and when he surfaced, he was no longer in the present.

The old, flickering light of their home cast eerie shadows along the walls. His mother stood before him, a gleam of something unnatural in her eyes. In her trembling hand, a kitchen knife glistened under the dim glow.

"You're not my son," she whispered.

Her voice wavered between grief and rage. "You're something else. Something wrong."

Arthur tried to move, but his small legs felt like lead. Then, she lunged.

But the scene shifted. This wasn't how he remembered it. His father should have been the one to save him. Instead, two men stood before him, their faces eerily similar to his mother's. They weren't human. Their gazes bore into his very soul, and a chilling realization settled in.

He had seen those eyes before. The Megan and Jeff's gazes...

The dream twisted again. He relived the past weeks in brutal clarity, every glance, every interaction. He recalled the moment Megan had first changed, the eerie glow in Jeff's stare just days before the fight. He had ignored the signs, dismissed them as paranoia.

But now... Now, he knew the truth.

He was six, playing in the backyard when old Mrs. Langley from next door peered at him through the fence. Her lips moved, but no sound came out. Arthur had simply laughed, thinking she was being silly. But now, the memory sharpened—her eyes, hollow and dark, her mouth forming words he could finally hear: "Not like the others... not like the others..."

Another shift. He was eight, at a family gathering. His uncle, a man he barely remembered, had gripped his shoulder too tightly. "You don't belong here, boy," he had murmured, his breath rancid with whiskey. At the time, Arthur thought it was just drunken nonsense, but now, the words echoed differently, carrying weight they hadn't before.

Then he was twelve, standing in his bedroom doorway, peeking into the dimly lit hall. His sister, Eleanor, was awake, talking in hushed tones to someone he couldn't see. "He's changing," she had whispered. "We have to tell Dad soon."

A cruel, mocking laughter erupted in his mind. His vision snapped back to the present as he jolted awake, gasping for air. The room was suffocatingly dark, the shadows in the corners of his room stretching unnaturally. His breath came in ragged gasps, and his chest ached as if he had been drowning. The air felt thick, like something unseen was watching him, waiting just beyond his sight.

Sweat drenched his skin, and the bedsheets clung to his trembling body. His heart slammed against his ribs, each beat a deafening drum in the silence. His throat was raw, as if he had been screaming, though he couldn't remember if he had.

And then, that voice. The same grating voice that had led him here.

"Did you sleep well, Master?" it sneered. "I've removed the seal on your memories. Do you remember now?"

Awakened Memories