It always starts the same.
Rain.
Wipers screeching across the windshield like nails on glass.
And my father's voice.
"Put your seatbelt on, Kuro. Now."
I'm eight again, sitting in the backseat of our old silver sedan. My legs barely reach the edge of the seat. The world outside is a blur of rain and headlights, but inside, everything's too quiet.
My mom twists in her seat to look at me. Her eyes are scared, lips parted. "Hold on, baby. Just hold on."
"What's going on?" my young voice trembles. "Why are we going so fast?"
"They're following us," my father mutters. "I knew they'd come for me eventually. Damn it—hold on!"
A pair of black SUVs chase us through the downpour, getting closer, their engines growling like beasts. One bumps the side of our car. Metal screams. My heart jumps into my throat.
"Dad!" I cry. "They're gonna hit us again!"
Another slam. Our car skids across the wet road.
My mother reaches back, grabs my hand, and forces a smile through her fear. "Just keep your head down, okay, Kuro? Don't look. It'll be over soon."
"No! I don't want to—!"
CRASH.
The world explodes in noise and metal. My body jolts as the car flips, once, twice, and finally crashes into a ditch with a sound like the earth itself cracked open. My face slams into the window. Blood fills my mouth. I can't breathe.
Everything is tilted. The rain is inside now, on my skin, soaking me.
"Mom?" I whisper. "Dad?"
No answer.
"Mom?!"
I reach forward, but my seatbelt pulls me back. I fight with it, panic rising. I finally unbuckle and stumble forward, slipping on glass. My dad's head is bleeding. His hand twitches once. Just once.
My mom doesn't move at all.
The fuel line leaks. I smell it. That sharp chemical stench.
"Mom, wake up! Please! You said it'd be okay!"
Nothing.
Then—fire.
I back away, screaming as flames swallow the front of the car. The heat scorches my skin, but I can't move. I stare. I cry. I scream.
"Help them!" I sob. "Somebody help them!!"
No one comes.
And then, just like that, the car explodes.
I shot upright, my breath ragged and chest tight.
Sweat clung to my skin, and I stared at the cracked ceiling above my bed like it held the answers to the universe. My sheets were soaked. The nightmare clung to me like smoke.
The same dream. Over and over.
Except tonight, it went further.
I swung my legs off the mattress and pressed my palms to my eyes. The buzzing hum of the fridge down the hall was the only sound in the apartment. Outside, the early morning wind whispered against the windows like ghosts asking to be let in.
I stood and moved toward the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face.
But then the mirror changed.
No longer my reflection—but the old apartment. My parents' apartment. Before the crash. I saw it clearly. The peeling wallpaper. The leaky faucet. The clock on the wall stuck at 3:00 AM. Everything exactly how I remembered it.
I blinked—and suddenly, I was there.
The sink was warm under my hands.
No, not a dream.
A memory.
I turned—and saw myself. Young. Crying. Knees pulled to my chest, face hidden behind my arms.
"You should not have lived."
The voice froze my blood. Cold and hollow, like it came from the bottom of a well that had no end.
I turned around.
He stood in the hallway, cloaked in endless black. The Demon God. The one from every dream.
He walked without sound, without shadow. Just presence. A presence so heavy it pushed the breath from my lungs.
"Why do you keep showing me this?" I asked, somehow able to speak in this twisted limbo.
"To remind you what was taken," he said. "And what you were given."
He raised a hand. His clawed finger pointed at me.
"You carry my mark."
My chest burned.
It pulsed—like a second heartbeat. One I never asked for.
"What do you want from me?" I asked.
He didn't answer. Instead, the walls of the apartment cracked. Fire licked up from the floor. The ceiling melted into ash.
The Demon God leaned closer, his breath like frost on my cheek.
"When the world ends, Kuro… you'll choose which side to burn."
—
ALARM: 4:30 AM.
I gasped, waking again.
For real this time.
I sat there in the darkness, my body cold but my chest hot where the mark still throbbed faintly beneath my skin.
I had moved into this apartment to escape. To start over.
But you can't outrun death.
Not when it lives inside you.
My phone buzzed on the bedside table.
MIRA CALLING.
I wiped my face and answered.
"Hey," I croaked.
"You sound like hell."
"Thanks. I was going for 'mildly tortured.'"
She chuckled on the other end. "You get any sleep?"
"Define sleep."
"Same dream again?"
"Yeah. Worse this time. I saw the God again."
Mira went quiet for a moment. Then she said, "We've got something. Near the east industrial site. Power's down. Cameras fried. A witness said he saw something crawling on the side of a cargo ship. Like… vertical crawling."
I stood up and grabbed a hoodie. "When?"
"Just now. I was gonna let you sleep—"
"I'm up."
"You're not okay, Kuro."
"I never am."
"Kuro—"
"I'll meet you there in twenty. Don't start without me."
I hung up before she could protest.
I moved to my tiny kitchen and poured cold coffee into a chipped mug. Outside, the city was still sleeping, but not for long. The skyline was pale with the first sign of dawn.
Then my phone buzzed again.
MIRA: Incoming message.
Witness reported a glowing eye and something that sounded like... voices whispering. Thought you'd want to know.
I didn't reply.
Instead, I stared out the window.
Whispers.
Even now, I could hear faint ones in my ears. Ghosts? Memories? The mark?
I didn't know anymore.