Kura Revilian awoke to the cold embrace of an unfamiliar bed. The dim glow of a solitary lamp cast long shadows across the room, illuminating a weathered desk strewn with odd trinkets. His head throbbed, a dull ache pulsing behind his temples as he pushed himself upright.
Where… am I?
The air was thick with the scent of aged wood and something metallic—iron, perhaps. His fingers twitched, and a sudden tightness coiled around one of them. Frowning, he lifted his hand, his breath hitching as the flickering light caught on the object wrapped around his finger.
A ring. Blood-red, like a freshly split ruby, its crimson depths shimmered with an unnatural sheen. The band, a dull, ashen gray, seemed almost fused to his skin.
What the hell is this?
His pulse quickened as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, the wooden floor groaning beneath his weight. The room was small—too small. A towering mirror stood sentinel beside him, reflecting his disheveled appearance. His own eyes stared back, wide and uncertain. In the corner, an imposing cabinet loomed, its doors slightly ajar, as if something had recently slipped out.
Then, the door. Solid, unyielding. He seized the iron knob, twisting with all his strength, but it refused to budge.
A flicker of movement caught his eye, a slip of yellowed paper resting on the desk, its edges curled with age. He snatched it up, his stomach twisting as he scanned the symbols scrawled across its surface.
This isn't any language I know.
A code? A cipher?
Where are Mom and Dad? Why am I here?
Frustration burned through him. He crumpled the paper in his fist before shoving it into his pocket. Whatever it was, it might be important.
He turned back to the door, slamming his shoulder against it once, twice— On the third strike, something shifted.
A faint, eerie glow emanated from the ring, pulsing in time with his heartbeat. His breath hitched as the ruby's light intensified with every impact.
What the hell is this thing?
With a final, desperate kick, the door splintered open, revealing a long, dimly lit hallway lined with identical doors. The air smelled of dust and something faintly sour—like old blood.
The lights flickered. At the far end of the corridor, a shadow moved.
A woman, no, a silhouette—stood there, her form dissolving into darkness each time the lights stuttered back to life. Kura's muscles locked.
Then, the lights steadied. She was gone.
Swallowing hard, he forced himself forward, his footsteps echoing ominously. The hallway seemed to stretch endlessly, but finally, he reached a fork, a staircase winding downward, and beside it, an elevator, its brass doors gleaming dully.
He chose the elevator.
The moment he stepped inside, the doors slid shut with a whisper. The light above him dimmed, then died completely, plunging him into darkness.
But the ring still glowed. A faint, blood-red luminescence that painted the cramped space in sinister hues.
Why does it keep doing that?
The elevator shuddered to a stop. The doors parted, revealing another corridor, this one lined with peeling wallpaper and the faint scent of mildew.
Cold night air hit his face as he stumbled out of the building, his breath coming in sharp gasps. He turned, staring up at the towering structure behind him.
What the hell was that place?
The city around him was alive, storefronts glowing, people milling about, the hum of conversation filling the air. But none of it felt real.
A growl tore through his stomach. Hunger.
He barely had time to process it before a hand clamped around his wrist. Cold. Unrelenting.
He turned, meeting the sharp green eyes of a woman in a black suit, her fiery red hair spilling from beneath a fedora. Her lips curled into a smirk as she glanced at the ring, then back at him.
"Hungry?" she purred, holding up a handful of coins. "I'll buy you a meal."
Kura tried to pull away, but her grip was iron. "Who are you?"
She didn't answer, simply tugged him toward a nearby café, her movements effortless, predatory. The moment they sat, she leaned forward, her voice dropping to a whisper.
"That ring. It's from your parents, isn't it?"
His blood ran cold. Before he could react, she chuckled, rolling two small spheres between her fingers, one red, one white. The sound they made was unnatural, like something writhing.
Then, her expression shifted.
"Relax. I'm Calestia Revilian." A pause. "Your sister."
Kura's breath stopped. No.
His sister had been a Temporal Enforcer, elite, untouchable. She'd vanished years ago, leaving behind only rumors and a legacy he'd spent years chasing.
And now here she was, smirking at him like this was all some twisted game.
"You're lying," he hissed.
Calestia's grin widened, but her eyes were hollow. "You don't even remember my face. Pathetic."
Then, her voice dropped, the amusement draining away. "Mom and Dad Is already dead."
Kura's hands trembled, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. The ring on his finger pulsed like a second heartbeat, its crimson glow casting jagged shadows across the table.
Calestia watched him, her smirk never fading, but her eyes were cold.
Then, with a flick of her wrist, she twirled one of the strange spheres between her fingers and sighed.
"Don't cry, little brother," she teased, her voice laced with mocking sweetness. "Being a crybaby will be a turnoff for girls your age, ya know."
Kura slammed his palms against the table, the dishes rattling. His voice was low, razor-edged.
"Are you seriously joking right now?" His glare could have cut steel. "Do you realize how serious this is?"
He thrust a finger at her, his entire body coiled like a spring. The air between them crackled, thick with something unspoken, danger, betrayal, a history buried in blood.
The air between them still thrummed with tension, but Calestia exhaled through her nose, relenting. "Just finish your food," she said, her voice quieter now. "I'm gonna stop."
For a heartbeat, Kura held her gaze, searching for the taunt, the trap. But her expression had shifted, the smirk gone. Only exhaustion remained.
He sat. The clink of silverware filled the silence as he ate, methodical, his mind racing even as his body obeyed. The food was good, warm, hearty, but it tasted like nothing. His throat worked around each bite, his grip tight on the fork.
Minutes passed. The café's murmur wrapped around them, oblivious.
When the plate was clean, he set the fork down with deliberate precision and looked up.
Now what?
Calestia was watching him again, but this time, her fingers weren't toying with those strange spheres. They were still.