Chapter 6

The kitchen smelled like heaven.

Roast meat, buttery rice, something sweet baking in the oven.

It was a trap.

Aika knew it. She felt it.

She stood in the doorway, one hand clutched around ΔLight, the other hovering near her stomach as it growled traitorously.

It had been days since she'd eaten anything fresh.

Weeks since she'd trusted anything her mother prepared.

From the bottom of the stairs, her mother called up, cheerful and lilting, "Dinner's ready, sweetheart!"

Aika forced a smile onto her face.

Practice. Pretend. Play the game.

She walked slowly down the stairs, each step feeling heavier than the last.

The table was already set—two plates, two cups, steam rising off the meal like something alive.

Her mother smiled so wide it nearly touched her ears.

"Come sit. You need your strength."

Aika obeyed.

Sat.

Picked up her fork.

Cut into the meat.

But she didn't eat.

Instead, she scraped it onto her plate, piece by piece, pretending to nibble, chewing on nothing but her own fear.

ΔLight pulsed once in her arms.

A soft pressure in her mind followed—a whisper.

"Don't eat."

The words didn't come from across the table.

They came from inside her skull.

"Wormroot. Muteflower. Blood."

"It's not food. It's a binding."

Aika's throat tightened.

She smiled through it.

Nodded at her mother.

Made excuses to leave.

Upstairs, she flushed the food down the toilet.

Every bite.

Every scrap.

She sat on the floor of her bedroom, back pressed against the door, heart pounding so hard it hurt.

ΔLight sat across from her, his button eyes reflecting the dim light from the hallway.

He said nothing.

Just watched.

And that's when she remembered—

It was raining the night Father left.

She was seven.

Hana was sick, her skin hot and sticky under the old blue blanket.

The power had gone out.

The hallway light was the only thing still working, flickering angrily, painting the house in sickly yellow flashes.

Her father's voice, low and urgent.

Her mother's chanting, rhythmic and cold.

And then—

He came to her.

He kissed her forehead.

Whispered something she hadn't understood back then.

"Don't trust the guiding light. Not all lights lead you home."

And then he was gone.

The police said abandonment.

Mom cried for the cameras.

But Aika remembered the smile hiding behind her mother's trembling hands.

Now, huddled in the dark, she stared at ΔLight.

The doll who had saved her.

The doll who spoke inside her mind.

The doll who sometimes changed in reflections.

ΔLight—the change in light.

Her protector.

Her friend.

Or her captor.

Because if Father was right—

If not all lights led you home—

Then ΔLight wasn't her salvation.

He was the guide to something far, far worse.

[Aika's Diary – 8/2/20XX – Week Three]

The food always smells too good. That's how she gets you.

I haven't eaten anything she's made in twenty-one days.

Everything I eat now is either pre-packaged, canned, or something I've watched cook from start to finish.

I pretend sometimes.

I'll take her plate, smile, bring it upstairs… and flush it.

Or hide it in the floorboard crack under my bed.

Because ΔLight whispers.

Not every time.

Only when it's dangerous.

Like the stew from five nights ago—he said don't touch it.

"Wormroot. Muteflower. Blood. It's not food, it's a binding."

Binding.

That's what she's doing to me, piece by piece.

But last night… I remembered something.

The night Father left.

I was maybe seven. Hana had the flu.

We were lying on the couch under the blue blanket when it happened.

The power had just gone out, and all I remember was the hallway light—bright, flickering like it was angry.

He was shouting.

Mom was… chanting.

And then I heard him come into the room, kneel down between us, kiss our foreheads—his breath smelled like rain and tobacco.

And he whispered something I didn't understand at the time:

"Don't trust the guiding light. Not all lights lead you home."

Then he was gone. Just like that.

The police said he abandoned us.

Mom cried.

But I remember her smile behind the tears.

And now… now that I think about it—

ΔLight. The "change in light."

He shows up in reflections.

He pulls me from dreams.

He stops the shadows.

He feeds me truths.

But what if he's the light Father warned me about?

What if he isn't here to protect me...

…but to prepare me?

But why would he save me from the tentacle?

Why warn me about the food?

Why stop her lullaby from taking hold?

I want to trust him. I do.

He's all I have.

But that memory… it won't leave me.

And today, I caught my reflection smiling back before I did.

It wasn't me.

It was ΔLight.

He knew I was watching.

– Aika