Four nights had passed by since Melvik had awakened as Halios. The full moon bathed his cradle in silver light, its glow tracing the ornate patterns of dragons and flames carved into the dark wood. His new life was a fragile, puzzling thing — each moment surreal, each breath a reminder that his past had been left behind.
Acceptance had come slowly, like a creeping tide. On the second night, a dream — a nightmare — had unfurled the memory of his death. The sound of tires screeching. The blinding rush of headlights. The finality of impact.
He remembered everything now.
This wasn't a dream. It was reincarnation.
And yet, one question gnawed at him with relentless persistence.
Where is the real Halios?
The question lingered, unanswered, each passing second a needle of guilt that pricked deeper into his mind.
---
A faint noise stirred him from his thoughts.
He stiffened.
Beyond the flicker of shadows, a figure slipped through the open window. Moonlight kissed his silhouette — a lean frame draped in dark clothes.
{Athief?}
Halios' heartbeat quickened, his pulse a steady drumbeat in his ears. He fought to keep his breathing even, eyelids fluttering just enough to feign sleep. Whoever this intruder was, they moved with an unsettling grace, soundless as a whisper.
The figure stopped.
"Drop the act," came a voice, smooth as silk.
Halios' breath got caught in his throat.
He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, his mind racing.
{Stay still. Don't react. It's just a thief. Maybe they'll leave.}
"You think this THIEF would leave?."
The voice chuckled softly, as he stressed the word 'thief'.
{What?!}
Halios' mind froze, his thoughts scrambling for purchase. His lips twitched with unspoken disbelief.
The figure laughed again — a low, musical sound that filled the room with a strange warmth.
"Still pretending? How adorable."
Halios cracked one eye open.
The man stood by the window, bathed in silver light. His features were sharp, almost regal, with skin the color of pale marble. Short raven-black hair framed his face, and across his eyes, white bandages wound tightly, concealing his sight. Yet, the confidence with which he moved spoke of a man who saw far more than anyone else ever could.
He didn't belong here.
He was too composed. Too precise.
And felt ....dangerous. maybe?
Halios' curiosity burned. He opened both eyes fully, his voice a whisper in his thoughts.
{Wh... who are you?}
The man's smile widened.
"Finally. A proper greeting."
He inclined his head, his movements as fluid as water.
"Call me Rias. Rias Enferno."
Halios blinked. The name struck him like a thunderclap.
{Enferno?}
The name felt familiar, yet foreign.
"The same,"
Rias said, amusement dancing in his voice. "I see you recognize it. That would make sense — after all it's also your name,
{huh?}
"Well... I am your grandfather."
he chimed playfully.
{Grandfather?}
For a long, breathless moment, Halios stared at him, disbelief pooling in his wide eyes. Then he laughed — a short, incredulous burst of sound that felt strange in his tiny chest.
{Nice joke}
he muttered in his mind.
"Ah, the skepticism of youth,"
Rias mused, a smirk tugging at his lips.
"But truth often feels stranger than fiction. Time will teach you that."
Halios' thoughts churned like a storm.
{This is insane... What kind of grandfather sneaks through windows and wears bandages over his eyes when it doesn't look like he's blind?}
Rias chuckled.
"A very peculiar one."
He stepped closer, the hem of his coat sweeping the floor like shadows trailing his heels. His hand, long-fingered and elegant, rested gently on Halios' head.
---
Warmth bloomed from his touch.
A pulse of something… otherworldly radiated through Halios' body, filling him with a strange, soothing sensation that reached into the very marrow of his soul. It was as though language itself unraveled, threads of incomprehensible words rewoven into new patterns, each syllable now familiar.
"You'll find it terribly inconvenient to speak a language no one understands,"
Rias said softly, his voice laced with quiet humor.
"Consider this a gift."
Halios looked puzzled as he tilted his head.
{Wh-what…} His words hung in the air, trembling with newfound clarity.
"Language is power," Rias whispered. "And understanding is the key to surviving in a world like this."
Halios stared, wide-eyed.
{How…?}
Rias smiled.
"Magic. It's all around you — woven into the stones beneath your feet, the air you breathe. One day, you'll wield it. For now, let it carry you forward. After all, it brought you here"
Halios swallowed hard, his mind racing.
{You're telling me… this is real? All of it?}
"As real as the stars," Rias replied, turning toward the window. "But don't be too quick to compare realities. Your old world… it's far more fantastical than this one."
Halios' brow furrowed.
{More fantastical?}
Rias inclined his head.
"Indeed. You just never saw beyond its illusions. The worlds we walk are many, each more intricate than the last."
A flicker of doubt danced in Halios' mind. Was he truly meant to be here? Or was this some elaborate test, some twisted virtual simulation?
Rias sighed, sensing the thought before it could fully form. "No, little one. This isn't a game."
{How would you know?}
"Because the stakes are real. Lives are lost here — permanently."
The weight of those words settled heavily on Halios' chest.
Rias turned, his face bathed in moonlight.
"One more thing, young Halios."
Halios held his breath.
"The past is a heavy chain..."
Rias murmured.
"...If you let it drag you, you'll sink. Cut it loose. Your story begins here — an untamed canvas waiting for its first stroke."
A whisper of magic curled through the air as Rias waved his hand. Shadows danced and swirled, pulling gently at Halios' consciousness. Sleep, warm and heavy, descended upon him. His eyes closed, the weight of reality slipping away.
Rias watched as his 'grandson' surrendered to slumber.
---
With a final glance, he stepped into the shadows and vanished, leaving only silence and mystery in his wake.
**Fated Night with a Blind Stranger**