14th Dawn

I went to the convenience shop near me, picking up some baked beans, bread, and eggs. Once home, I made myself an omelette and ate it with the bread. After finishing my meal, I slipped on my jacket and muttered the chant: "THE NIGHT BELONGS TO ME, I BELONG TO THE NIGHT, THE NIGHT BELONGS TO ME." The portal to Yommir City opened, and I stepped through.

I asked Hildegarde to show me the layout of the city and the way to the Nightmare Archives. Once she provided the outline, I decided to walk—my destination wasn't far. As I walked through the streets, I passed shops and typical city buildings, a stark contrast to the usual darkness surrounding me. I continued forward until I collided with something.

To be more precise, I bumped into a little girl. Her hair, black but matted and unkempt, covered most of her face, its original color now tinged with brown. I helped her to her feet, but when I tried to pull my hand away, she gripped it tightly, not letting go. My body tensed, instincts from my past telling me to pull back, yet there was something off about her. She felt... weightless. She was holding my hand, but I could not feel her presence. She was there, yet she wasn't.

A growing unease crept over me, and Hildegarde's voice echoed in my mind. "Jeremiah, I advise you leave that girl alone."

"Why? She seems sick, malnourished," I replied, not fully understanding her concern.

"That girl isn't just sick, she's dangerous. She's likely a Siren—or worse, an Ashenborn. A hybrid of both," Hildegarde explained.

"Wait, what's a Siren and an Ashenborn?" I asked, genuinely curious despite my growing concern.

Hildegarde sighed, her voice laced with annoyance. "Why do I always have to explain things to you? Sirens were once human beings drowned to death, cursed to live as eerie beings. Ashenborn are those who were burned alive but refused to die. They are dark, twisted creatures—both forms of abominations. This girl is probably the result of some horrific experiment, forced to experience death in two different ways just to complete her soul."

Her words struck me like a blow. "That's cruel... How could anyone do that to a child?"

Hildegarde's voice softened, but her tone was heavy with bitterness. "This city, Jeremiah, is full of horrors like that. A part of Yommir City employs people from your world—humans they manipulate, experimenting with souls. She's one of their byproducts. Poor girl, she never had a chance."

I frowned, my heart aching for the girl. "I can't abandon her. She has no one. I know what it feels like to be alone, and sometimes that loneliness leads to despair. I'm not leaving her here."

Hildegarde fell silent, before reluctantly replying, "Do as you wish. Just be careful."

I knelt down to the girl's level and asked gently, "What's your name?"

She looked up at me with wide, dull eyes, her voice barely a whisper. "I don't have a name, mister. What's yours?"

"Jeremiah," I replied softly, my heart heavy.

Determined to help her, I decided to reschedule my visit to the Nightmare Archives. I invoked the black portal and gestured for the girl to follow. She hesitated, her small, fragile form trembling, but eventually, she stepped through.

I made her some sandwiches, and as she took a bite, her expression lit up in a way that reminded me of someone tasting food for the first time. She looked at me with wide eyes, as if savoring every bite. "Does it taste good?" I asked, apologizing for not being able to make something more suitable.

She nodded eagerly, her eyes brightening. Then, her gaze shifted to the glass container on the table where the old man's ashes were stored. "Who's that, mister?" she asked.

I felt a pang in my chest. "He was my family... He died recently." Her face grew quiet at my words.

Later, I took her to a washhouse, where female attendants took care of her. While they dressed her, I went out to buy some clothes—dresses, trousers, things any child would wear. When I returned, I placed the clothes on the counter, and they helped the girl change.

When she emerged, dressed and looking cleaner, I smiled. "You look stunning." I hesitated, then asked, "Do you mind if I tie up your hair? I don't want you to trip." She nodded quietly, allowing me to gather her dark locks into a neat ponytail. Once finished, I took her hand, and we walked back to my apartment.

As nightfall approached, I guided her to my bed. "You can sleep here tonight. I'll use the mattress." She looked at me with confusion. "What does it mean to sleep, mister?"

I blinked, surprised. "You've never slept?"

"No... I don't know what that means," she answered softly, her voice tinged with a quiet fear.

I sat beside her, considering how to explain. "You close your eyes and relax your mind. That's how you sleep. Think you can do that?"

She closed her eyes, but after a moment, she opened them again, fear flickering in her gaze. "I'm scared... I see... nothing."

I quickly turned on the light and pulled out a book from my shelf, setting it open on my lap. I also played some ambient sounds—something I used to help me sleep. "You're not alone," I whispered gently. "I'll always be here." As I read her a lullaby, I watched her slowly drift off, the sound of her soft snores filling the room. A sense of relief washed over me.

With the lights still on, I let my mind wander back to the old man. His absence left a hollow ache in my chest, but as I lay down, the sound of the girl's breathing soothed me. I closed my eyes, hoping for some peace, and finally, sleep came.