The rains came late that year.
Dry winds howled across the fields,and Kean stayed longer in the forest —a place where whispers felt... quieter.
But that day, something was wrong.
Birds didn't sing.No rustle in the grass.Only stillness.
And then—he saw him.
A boy.
Same height.Same age.Wearing an old, torn uniform from a school Kean had never seen.
But something was off.
His face was blurred…not hidden, just… undefined.Like the world couldn't decide what he should look like.
"Who are you?" Kean asked.
The boy tilted his head.
"They call me nothing."
His voice was dry. Flat.Like dust on stone.
"Do you live here?"
"No. I only come when someone's about to break."
Kean stepped back.
But the boy didn't move.
"You hear it too, don't you?" the boy asked."The voice… the cold one. It talks to you."
Kean's eyes widened.
"You hear it?""Then what is it?"
The boy paused.
Then smiled.
"Friend. Foe. Father. Flame. It changes.""But it always follows the marked ones."
"Marked?" Kean whispered.
The boy pointed at Kean's chest.
"Right there. You have a hole in your soul. Same as me."
They sat in silence for a long time.
Then Kean asked, hesitantly:
"Do you ever get scared of it?"
The boy chuckled.
"I did… once."
"What changed?"
"I stopped pretending it wasn't there."
And just like that…the boy stood up.
"When it hurts too much… come back here.""We don't have to be alone in the dark."
"Wait—what's your name?"
The boy turned.
For a second, his face flickered.
Too many faces. All at once. None of them real.
"You'll know… when it's time."
Then he vanished into the mist.
And for the first time in weeks,Kean realized...
The voice wasn't the only one following him.
Something else had entered his world.Something just as broken…and maybe, just as dangerous.