Also to those that told me I shouldn't share personal problems because it's just looking for sympathy and subs… I don't particularly care about that input anymore.

I've reflected a lot and decided I just want to stay writing for me. Even if that seems selfish, I started writing for myself. Losing that, I lose a strong reason for writing more.

There are sensitive topics in here and some types of speech I don't normally use. Read from a good mental space. If not, I hope you skip this piece.

Be safe and I hope you're okay.

Distance.

I've been staying away for a little while. Not exactly gone, but close. It's not so much of a Substack thing, but more of my own problems.

As many know, I've taken a pretty severe mental hit just about 2 months ago. Or is it 2 months now? Either way, I've been struggling. A lot. Not the kind of “it sucks” but the kind of “I'm done.”

I'm actually quite good at not showing it. Perhaps people around me know a little bit of me being off. They just didn't know how off I've been. It's been one of those times where… I feel so worthless again.

I've talked about this a lot, but I'm rather fragile. I usually keep my distance from people. Those I talk to or am around, I just follow their lead in conversations or spend the time listening.

Substack has been a blessing and a curse for me. I absolutely adore the people here. As much as I adore, I also fear. The more eyes I have on me, the more afraid I get. What if I hurt someone? What if I let them down? What if I can't measure up?

The main reason I need/ed distance wasn't only for healing physically, but mentally. I've been okay, but I've also been… writing little goodbyes in case I ever take that step again.

The seizures really brought forth a lot of built up negative emotions, insecurities, worthlessness, and just flat out destroyed every bit of mental stability I had rebuilt.

Epilepsy. Insecurities. Loss. Disability.

I've been epileptic for what feels like my entire life now. Starting when I was 12/13. Not to repeat the same story over and over, but it really does make me feel less than.

I feel like my life has just been a neverending series of failures. Failures that I hate to blame on just one thing. Accountability has to be with me and not just my disability.

Every failure seems to amount to another criticism of myself. “I should have done better, I could have done better, I know I am better.” It's laughable, but I'm the strictest person I know. The strictest to myself.

Epilepsy has been a large hurdle through everything. Every step I make towards a large achievement it hits me like an avalanche. I get hospitalized. I get broken. I hit suicidal tendencies. I get drugged up on medications. I lose myself.

The cycle repeats. The amount of times it has repeated… I don't know. The amount of times it will continue… I don't know.

Every time it happens, I scream at myself for being weak. Yet, I still somehow pick myself back up and continue trying, just a different path each time. Eventually I'll find a path. One just for me, right?

I'm not sure if everyone with epilepsy is this way. Nor if everyone with a disability is, but the self worth and confidence… really hits 0. No matter how much assurance people around me give, it really falls on deaf ears.

How do I know they are sincere? Is it even fine for someone like me to be told these things? Is it okay for me to keep trying? Am I useful? What can I do to not be a burden? Am I really doing the best I can?

This really falls onto everything. Not just mentally, but physically, too. I've also been an insomniac for as long as I can remember now. I've been told it's from my nightmares, trauma, fear of no control… there might be a lot of reasons or it may just be natural. I don't know, and no one else seems to either. Specialist or not.

I've lost myself more times than I can count. Sometimes I wonder if I'm still the same me as I was yesterday. It's especially bad after having seizures. It's not just time I've lost, but it also feels like it takes another part of me along with it.

There have been too many times where I have just wanted it to fully consume me, though, too. Perhaps things would be better for everyone if I no longer breath on this planet anymore. Perhaps burdens would be lifted for others.

Of course, reality hits that those near me are too close to me. They would unfortunately be permanently scarred. That pushes me to keep going. Keep pushing myself. Be better.

Never Enough.

Everyone around me tells me they are proud of me. How far I've come. How I still push myself for more. How I still bring them smiles. How I endure…

I've become unable to ever feel like I will be enough. This is a void I think many people have. With my disability, it seems to dig deeper into me. Especially when I also put myself out there.

Substack especially has been hard on this. I don't know what to share. I listen too intently to everyone. There were even people I thought were my friends on here that completely broke my trust. I don't think it'll turn out that way with everyone of course, but I do know I'm extremely gullible. I trust easy, I care easy, I love easy, I will try to be the first to help if I can.

My fiancee says she both loves and hates that about me. But, it's just who I am, it's also a part of me I don't hate.

I believe in being better than who I was yesterday. Which means every day I try to improve myself at least a little bit. The days I feel no improvement I just hurt or curse myself for being so pathetic. It really is a never ending journey of never being enough.

Mental Gymnastics.

I've opened up a little. I've told my fiancee I'm having a hard time. I struggle to share exactly how hard, but I get it known that I am unwell.

I'm trying all of the different things I've been taught through psychiatrists, therapy, and my own findings on what helps. Scents, clearing my mind, meditating, distractions, exercise… it dilutes itself every time. Like medication my body builds immunity to.

We've decided to go out every weekend. Not anything fancy, and it's with my brother, too. He suffers from depression as well. It helps. It does. Is it enough? I don't know, but for now it's a step forward.

I was going to fully disappear here. Originally without saying anything. However, I knew I would probably regret it. I fought the feeling over and over. I would miss everyone. I would miss my work, the interactions, and the acknowledgement that people care.

The seizures really did mess me up. I'm not going to lie. Not sugar coating. I may not still be here, had one of those dark moments fully won. Yet here I am, standing up again. I'm healing, or at least I'm trying to.

I'm working back on medications again. I'm trying to build confidence. I'm trying to do better, more, as much as I can. Hopefully it'll always be that way.

For now, my rant ends. I'm still here, I'm doing my best, I'm enduring, and I'm pushing forward.

I hope you can do the same.

Be safe, stay loved, and I cherish you. ❤️

Much love,

Cory.

Don't fade away.

The sounds drown out every cause I feel,

No matter how high I jump, these walls are still real.

Tripping, falling, wailing, bleeding,

It never seems to end.

Time feels so distant,

Yet it's always what I'm chasing.

There doesn't seem to be an escape.

Up,

I get up again.

Fall,

It all ends in vain.

My mind goes blank,

The storm shatters my consciousness,

And I feel it all again.

Breaking, wailing, bleeding,

There's no end.

I feel it.

It's right beside me.

The angst,

The hurt,

The loss.

Yet I can't help but stand again.

They may laugh at all my failures,

At every time I fall,

But those whose hearts are sincere

Become a refuge for my own.

The shadows drown it all.

The light dims.

There seems no end in sight,

Yet my heart burns for more.

The torch catches a spark.

So just once more,

Through the hurt,

Through the fall,

Through everything I've lost...

I stand.

I hope you are safe, loved, and appreciated. No matter what, you've got this.

Much love,

Cory.

Every so often there may be a post out of nowhere when creativity sparks.

I've realized that's a bit of a rude way to go about it—so instead I will give a proper explanation, a farewell for now, and share a poem.

Seasons of Change: Heart Exchanged

Roses bloom red hues

Here my love is true

Where skies become blue

The truth is here with you



Rainy nights

Unwelcome flights

Here comes the rain

Washing out the stain



Summer rain is warm

Like the heart before the storm

Here the seasons change

Heart wishes for a warm exchange.



Leaves begin to turn

The sky gray like ash in an urn

Colors bloom in fading light

Cooling dew reflects the night.



Emotions seem to bleed starlight

Heartbeats settle in moonlight

Clarity builds within night

Blessing a single light.



Outside it's pure white

Snow glittering trying to unite

Together they form bundled tight

Here a heart freezes the fright.



A heart thawed in Spring

Burning through Summer

Exchanged in Fall

Then frozen in Winter



Seasons of Change

Heart exchanged

I'm Okay

First off I'll start with—I'm fine. I just need space to get my emotions and mental state back together. There is a lot going on right now and I need to get on track with new medications.

My fiancee told me to share that she says “He's in good care, I have him, don't worry!” Funny girl.

She is right, though, I am, or at least I will be doing well. We will get there. ❤️

Books, Future, Series

So I'm not looking to quit Substack or anything (at least, there are no plans yet). I am still working on creative goals. I may even still drop in some ghost posts, just don't count on replies or shares as I am not really here.

Devouring Abyss currently has 3 books finished. 1 released and the other 2 are finished draft-wise. It may be awhile before they are released and they may still get revised or rewritten.

I am working on a novel series, currently it has 6 novella volumes finished. Pretty excited about this one. It's ‘The Adventures of Kael,’ which is a tentative name at the moment.

As for the future… I can't promise anything. I do hope I am able to come back, share love, and uplift someone's day somewhere out there. It has been a big part of what I want to do here—help others.

Farewell.

As stated earlier, I may still have ghost posts or even say “hi” every so often. I don't know how long I will be gone either, it may be long or short. As of this moment, no plans on quitting, but that could change, too.

Overall, there's no need to worry. I am fine and getting better.

I hope you have a very lovely day, stay safe, and feel loved.

Much love,

Cory.

The kiss between you and me.

A sensual touch,

A momentary bliss.

The moment freezes,

A time for us,

As the world slips quietly away.

Thoughts slow,

Then speed,

Then slow again,

Lost somewhere between heartbeat and breath.

Electrified by the thoughts of you.

Every moment unforgettable,

Every touch immeasurable,

Every thought a shock.

You’ve electrified me.

Love in bliss,

Nerves go haywire.

The thought of you hits,

Dopamine surges,

My nervous system doesn’t rest.

It overflows,

Spilling into every heartbeat,

Every breath,

Every part of me.

Here you are,

Electrifying me.

Every moment, electric.

Something simple that came to me when sharing an intimate moment.

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I wrote this from being hit by a difficult time after those seizures. I felt like sharing because I think many could relate.

Thank you.

Don’t believe me

When I say I’m okay.

Because the reality

Is tears I’ve hidden away.

Every smile I wear

Is practiced every day.

If you look a little closer,

You’ll see I’m fading away.

Don’t believe me when I say I’m okay.

The truth is hard for me to say.

Still I wear these words like armor,

Hoping they’ll keep the hurt at bay.

You ask how I’m doing.

I tell you the same phrase

I’m okay.

Don’t tell me you believe me

When I’m lying through the pain.

I’m okay.

Just tell me that you see me.

You don’t have to fix a thing.

Just stay a little longer

When I whisper,

I’m okay.

I’ve become so good at hiding

Everything I cannot face.

Laughing through the silence,

Wearing someone else’s face.

Every “I’m fine” gets easier,

Every night becomes the same.

The louder that I say it,

The less it feels that way.

Maybe one day these words

Won’t sound so far away.

Maybe I’ll stop pretending

That everything has changed

You ask how I’m doing.

I tell you the same phrase

I’m okay.

Don’t tell me you believe me

When I’m breaking every day.

I’m okay.

Just tell me that you hear me.

Don’t let these words erase

Everything I’m trying not to say.

I’m okay.

Maybe I’m scared

Of becoming a burden.

Maybe I’ve forgotten

How to ask for help.

So I keep repeating

The only words I know,

Hoping if I say them long enough...

They’ll finally become true.

You ask how I’m doing.

I still say the same phrase.

I’m okay.

But this time, if you look into my eyes,

You’ll know what I can’t say.

Just tell me you see me.

Stay until the silence breaks.

Maybe tomorrow

I’ll find another way.

Until then...

I’ll keep saying,

I’m okay.

Trying to believe it,

One day

I’ll be okay.

I'm doing alright. I'm still getting myself together, but I am here with you.

I hope you are doing well. No matter how things feel, you're not alone. Sending love and positivity your way. ❤️

After some internal debate I've decided to share something I've not seen talked about much. Well, I don't usually see much talk about epilepsy/seizures in general.

This is all just through my perspective and the secondhand information given by specialists to me.

Take care and read with a light heart.

The mental hit.

First off… coming out of the seizure/s is very disorienting. For me I'll be surrounded by people who I may or may not know. It may be coworkers, family, police, paramedics, firefighters, or even strangers finding me.

The state of panic that follows is hard to describe. Even when it's family, it's hard to recognize at first. No one registers in my mind. It feels like I'm trapped and those around me are trying to harm me.

Of course that's not the case, but my mind thinks it is. The mind is a strange thing. It's hard to trust it at times. Especially when it’s rebooting.

After everything settles and I've gained my bearings, it then either ends up I'm on a gurney headed to the hospital or I'm headed home hobbling to the car with my relatives.

The healing process ends up starting from there. My body is extremely worn out from all the muscles tensing up and the convulsions. Then the cuts and bruises are throughout my body. The worst part, though, is the mental strain.

The thoughts get dark. All my energy goes away. My drive vanishes. It's like being sucked into a deep depression with no way out. In times like these, I break away from everyone and everything so I don't drag them down with me or burden them in any way.

Staying in control.

Some things doctors have told me that are sort of impossible to adhere to at all times…

“Keep stress to a minimum.” Life is stressful.

“Keep your heart beating normal.” How?

“Don't be alone.” Okay, I can try.

“Sleep properly.” I have insomnia!

It's easy to say these things, but it's not something that can be done all the time. Yes, stress is one of the biggest causes, how can I live a life of no stress? I can manage it to a point… but overall it's a part of life.

Staying in control of my body and my mind is much harder than it seems. Especially when I'm doing all I can just to walk forward every day.

The beforehand for preventing a seizure is also the after for preventing another seizure. When people are crowded around and my mind is clouded, it's easy to get overwhelmed.

Consequences.

Harm dealt during a seizure is typically quite scary. As a child, though, I ended up quite numb to it. It became an eventuality rather than a possibility.

Growing up, my doctors considered my seizures serious enough that they gave my family an emergency rescue medication at home to stop prolonged convulsions. The possibility of death or severe brain injury wasn’t abstract—it was something we were prepared for

In those days, I gave up on caring. I didn't think I would last either. My body I wouldn't be able to move for days at a time. During my teens I would pray to just not wake up again with the next ones.

Of course things are very different now. It's strange how they've become scary again. Now I have things to lose. Now I want to live. Now I've been able to achieve things originally thought impossible.

Neither my family or the doctors I had ever thought I could live a normal life. I've been living what I think is successful. I have a beautiful woman as my fiancée. I have two wonderful cats. I have a home. I have a job (well a safer job would be nice).

These recent seizures I had have really put in perspective how quickly things can fall apart again. I always think I know and always question it in the back of my head, yet when it's hitting reality… it hits different.

Moving forward.

I'm not trying to be super dramatic or anything—but epilepsy does suck. Having seizures in general sucks. No matter the form someone has and whether people think one version is worse than another. They all take a toll, even if that seems different for each person.

Some just also happen to be seen easier or give outside wounds. I may not know all different types of seizures, nor do I know everyone's experiences. I do know, though, it can't be a pleasant one.

If anyone reading this also has epilepsy, mine are classified as grand-mal (primary with secondary partial tonic-clonic). I honestly haven’t looked into other forms of seizures much. I’ve been so occupied trying to understand my own. I’d be genuinely interested to hear what recovery is like for those with different types of seizures.

Stepping towards the future… all I can do is my best.

Thank you for reading. If you happen to have epilepsy or have experienced a seizure yourself and feel alone, I'm always willing to chat. Comment or DM. I'm always interested to see the different types out there and how others deal with them.

If anyone is curious or wants to know more, let me know. Whether in comments or DMs. I'm usually an open book.

It may be a little bit before I respond, though. I'm still stuck in a vicious cycle of mental recovery.

Trying my best. ❤️

Much love,

Cory.

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I’ve always taken it for granted that I’ll come out okay. After all, I always have. It’s just been another day for me.

That normalcy is what makes it dangerous.

I rarely let anyone take me to the hospital because I assume I’ll be fine and that there’s nothing they can really do for me anyway. But what about the fractures, the cuts, the trauma? I’ve spent years brushing all of that aside.

When I was younger, it wasn’t unusual for me to have four to seven seizures in a single day. Cuts and bruises covered my body. Concussions became normal.

As I’ve gotten older, my seizures have become less frequent, and my medications have helped more than they’ve hurt. It’s become easy to forget that I have epilepsy because it’s simply been part of my life for so long. Then, every once in a while, something like this happens and reminds me just how real it still is.

This last cluster of seizures, just three of them—almost left me with permanent injuries or worse because of where they happened. Being trapped inside my own mind while next to a pit was one of the most terrifying experiences I’ve had.

I nearly fell straight into a pit about fifteen feet deep, filled with concrete and coated with a slippery layer of oil. I was only saved because my stepdad pulled me back to safety, injuring himself in the process while trying to keep me away from the edge as I convulsed.

It also reminded me of something I sometimes forget—not every seizure comes with an aura. That day, there was no warning. It simply happened.

Here I am, almost a week later, still recovering, still trying, and still showing up to my doctors. It’s been a journey, and it’s one I’m still walking.

Thank you for your patience.

I’ll see you soon.

Much love,

Cory.

There’s nothing left to fear.

The things you hear beyond your door

Are only whispers in your ear.

You check beneath your bed.

You search each shadowed wall.

You never thought to look at me...

The place I'd hide through it all.

I watch you every passing night,

Though you never see my face.

I wait until your breathing slows,

Then quietly take my place.

Don't turn around. Don't call my name.

Just listen while I speak.

I love the way your heartbeat climbs

Each time you hear the creak.

You lock your doors. You shut your blinds.

You pray until first light.

But wood and glass were built for men...

Not creatures of the night.

Soon you’ll feel me at your side,

So close you’ll sense my breath.

You’ll tell yourself it’s all a dream

To keep away your death.

When you finally gather the nerve

To look at me.

You'll understand why silence falls...

I'm the creature you've come to fear

And I've been whispering to you...

All night.

-

I felt like trying my hand at horror again! I hope it was fun! 😊

Usually, it’s the other way around, so I just flip the script.

“No, I’m the lucky one. It’s unbelievable that I ended up with someone like her.”

Shortly afterward, I started wondering if that was actually normal. Is it something men tend to say more often? I mostly hear it from other men, but I’m not around enough women to know whether they have similar conversations.

That led me to another thought—are we undervaluing ourselves?

There’s charm on both sides, otherwise what would have brought the two people together in the first place? If both people are kind, supportive, loyal, and genuinely care about one another, why do we instinctively assume that one person “won” the relationship? Why does someone always have to be the lucky one?

It’s not luck that keeps a relationship together. It’s love, effort, understanding, shared values, and making concessions when necessary. Sure, maybe luck played a role in the initial meeting, but it doesn’t teach two people how to communicate, forgive, or continue choosing each other every day. Luck may introduce two people, but it’s the effort afterward that leads to becoming, and staying a couple.

I’m guilty of saying “you’re lucky,” too, and in doing so I’ve taken away from the bigger picture. It seems to have become the default response whenever we see a happy couple or someone deeply in love.

Maybe my answer shouldn’t be, “Yeah, I don’t deserve her. I’m lucky to have her.” Maybe it should be something more like this— We are both lucky to have met each other.

Maybe that’s what healthy relationships really look like—not one person feeling fortunate to be chosen, but two people recognizing the value in each other.

What are your thoughts? Do you believe love is mostly luck? Do you think one person is usually more deserving than the other? Or do you see it differently?

Let me know in the comments below!

I really liked the poem I made before. So I decided to add onto it and make it a song, I hope you enjoy!

Lyrics - Me

Audio - Suno

For You, Beautiful.

At times you feel a little lonely.

Just know you’re always lovely.

Here you are feeling lost,

But I won’t let you be tossed.

You’re feeling a little ugly,

But you’re beautiful, honey.

When you’re wandering through the dark,

I’ll hold you so we never part.

When you feel broken,

I’ll help you feel whole again.

When the world feels too heavy,

You don’t have to carry it alone.

You’re beautiful.

You’re lovely.

More than you’ll ever see.

When your heart forgets your worth,

Lean on me.

I’ll remind you who you are.

I’ll stay no matter how far.

Even on your hardest day,

I’ll help you find your way.

You’re hiding from the hurt,

Trying not to overexert.

You wish someone understood,

I’ll stand beside you like they should.

You don’t have to face it alone.

You don’t have to carry the stone.

Even when hope fades away,

I’ll be here if you stay.

One day you’ll see yourself

The way I always do.

Not through fear or broken mirrors,

But through something true.

You’re beautiful.

You’re lovely.

Exactly as you are.

No matter where this road may lead,

I’ll be with you through it all.

I love you.

You’re amazing in every way.

So lift your head,

And make today your day.

Lyrics/poem - Me

Audio - Suno.

I say, "I love you."

I try to mean every word.

But every step I take

Leaves another promise blurred.

No matter how I fight it,

No matter what I write,

The truth keeps slipping through me

Like shadows in the light.

I tell you that I love you.

I lie straight to your face.

I want to believe it,

But belief slips away.

I'm a hypocrite.

Every word I say begins to break.

I'm a hypocrite.

How much of me is real or fake?

I reach for something honest,

But it falls before it starts.

I tell you that I love you,

While doubting my own heart.

I act so big

To hide what's small.

I give you every piece of me,

The shadows and all.

Still I keep building castles

On foundations made of air.

Trying to become the man

I swear is somewhere there.

Don't tell me that you love me.

Don't trust that you do.

If I can't believe myself,

How could I let you know?

I'm a hypocrite.

Every word I say begins to break.

I'm a hypocrite.

How much of me is real or fake?

No matter all the love.

No matter all my life.

Every road I walk somehow

Leads back into the night.

My reflection shattered.

Am I real or fake?

Everything that's real

Always fades away.

I don't recognize the face

Staring back at me.

If I can't believe myself,

What am I supposed to see?

Don't tell me that you love me.

I love you...

I hope I do.

Maybe I wanted it.

Maybe I meant every line.

Maybe somewhere underneath,

The truth is buried alive.

Maybe I'm terrified

That love is something I can't hold.

So I call myself a liar

Before anyone else does.

I'm a hypocrite.

That's the name I've learned to wear.

I'm a hypocrite.

Building something that isn't there.

I tell you, "I love you."

A lie so softly spoke.

Or maybe it's the truth...

That I just never believed.

I'm a hypocrite.

                           - END -

I actually thought this might be relatable to a lot of people.

Sometimes we give ourselves a label that doesn’t feel true. Other times we give someone our whole heart, yet somehow it still feels like we’re lying. We question whether what we’re feeling is real, or if we’ve convinced ourselves it is.

Hypocrite is less about lying to someone else and more about doubting yourself so deeply that even your most honest words start to feel false.

Thank you for reading and/or listening.

No matter the loss,
No matter the pain,
I watch you rise,
Again and again.

I hold my heart through darkened skies,
And trace your path with weary eyes.
For night finds little joy or light
Without its stars to guide the night.

Within my sea, you came to be,
A soul imagined endlessly.
Not born by chance nor passing theme,
But forged from hope, from thought, from dream.

I’ve watched you stumble, watched you stand,
Faced cruel fate with steady hand.
I’ve seen the weight you choose to bear,
And all the scars you choose to wear.

So if you wander, lost from view,
Remember I still walk with you.
Beyond the page and written line,
A part of you is part of mine.

Don’t feel lost when shadows call,
Or when the dark begins to fall.
For through each ending, through each seam,
You are my creation, soul, and dream.

And though the road may never cease,
And though your heart may never know peace,
Through every chapter yet to come,
Together, we will always be.

My fiancee chose this one that had my voice in it. I kind of thought the AI singing was a lot better. 😅

Vocals - mine, transitions to AI.

Lyrics - mine.

Audio - Suno.

The One

You were the color in my black and white,

The spark that turned my darkness into light,

When I was lost, you showed me where to run,

Before I knew it, you became the one.

You stole my heart without a warning sign,

Now every dream I have has you inside,

Every little moment, every day that's gone,

Somehow feels better when you're holding on.

And when your smile lights up the room,

The world just fades away,

I find a thousand reasons why

I fall for you each day.

You were the one,

The one who painted color through my gray,

The one who lit a fire that will never fade,

Your laughter shines brighter than the morning sun,

Every road I've ever traveled led to one.

You were the one,

The one my heart was searching for all along,

The one who turned my scattered pieces into home,

And every beat inside my chest still says you're the one.

I make you laugh with every stupid joke I say,

Though sometimes I get carried far away,

And when I see I've put that little frown upon your face,

I pull you close and hold you in embrace.

You roll your eyes, but I can see the smile there,

The kind that tells me no one else compares,

Through every high and every storm we've overcome,

You remind me where my heart belongs.

And when your smile lights up the room,

The world just fades away,

I find a thousand reasons why

I fall for you each day.

You were the one,

The one who painted color through my gray,

The one who lit a fire that will never fade,

Your laughter shines brighter than the morning sun,

Every road I've ever traveled led to one.

You were the one,

The one my heart was searching for all along,

The one who turned my scattered pieces into home,

And every beat inside my chest still says you're the one.

Years from now, when we're older and time moves on,

I'll still be reaching for your hand to hold,

Because loving you was never something I chose,

It was the answer my heart already knows.

You were the one,

The one who brought the fire back to life,

The one I'd choose a million times, a million nights,

Your smile still burns a flame straight through my soul,

And every day with you makes me whole.

You were the one,

The one I'll love until my final breath is gone,

The one I'll still be singing to when all the years move on,

Forever and always, you'll be the one.

Thank you for reading/listening! ❤️

The character personalities and reflections are not the same as those listed. If anyone listed here is upset at any part of this story, let me know and I’ll edit or remove! Thank you. ❤️

Sorry if there are any continuity issues, I did edit, but the story was getting too long. I also wrote bits over the course of multiple days so I may have missed a few things. Some of the writing is a little different between sections, too. I kept changing it by each day. 😅

Inside The Glass.

The first thing I noticed was that everyone was actually on time.

Honestly, that was more surprising than the castle.

Getting this many people together had taken weeks of planning. Group messages, reminders, schedule changes, last-minute confirmations. I’d half expected somebody to cancel at the last second.

Instead, everyone showed up.

“Impossible,” Notes declared, staring at the assembled group. “I’ve found the flaw in reality.”

“What flaw?” Stefan asked.

“All of us being here when we said we’d be here.”

A few people laughed.

Ilias rolled his eyes. “It’s called planning.”

“No,” Notes replied. “It’s called witchcraft.”

“It’s called Cory sending enough reminders to qualify as psychological warfare.”

“I stand by my original statement.”

The argument followed us as we started down the forest path.

Lanterns bobbed through the darkness, casting long shadows between the trees. The trail was little more than a narrow strip of dirt illuminated by moonlight, winding deeper into the forest toward the castle waiting beyond it.

When the treeline finally broke, the conversations faltered.

The castle towered over everything around it.

Dark stone walls climbed toward the sky. Countless windows stared out over the forest. Sharp spires disappeared into the clouds overhead. It looked less like a building and more like something that had always existed, quietly waiting for people to notice it.

For a moment, nobody spoke.

Even Innerverse fell silent.

That alone felt unnatural.

Three seconds later she pointed toward the castle.

“Okay. That’s haunted.”

“It’s not haunted.”

“It’s absolutely haunted.”

“We don’t even know what haunted looks like.”

Nat pointed.

“That.”

“I don’t think that’s evidence.”

“It’s enough evidence for me.”

“I hate to admit it,” Innerverse said, “but if somebody told me to draw a haunted castle, that’s exactly what I’d draw.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Stop encouraging her,” Ilias said.

Before long everyone was talking again.

That’s how we always were. Silence never lasted very long.

I found myself looking around the group.

Stefan was already studying the map I’d given him despite the fact the castle was impossible to miss.

Ilias was confidently explaining where we were.

Nobody believed him.

“I know exactly where we’re going.”

“You got lost in a grocery store once,” Nat replied.

“It was one time.”

“It was a rectangle.”

John walked near the back of the group, occasionally glancing toward the trees.

Kasu bounced between conversations like she’d personally accepted responsibility for keeping everyone’s spirits up.

Innerverse was once again explaining the ending of a book to Imi.

“She absolutely should have survived.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“She deserved a redemption arc.”

“She murdered six people.”

“Character growth.”

“That’s not character growth.”

“Agree to disagree.”

“Then stop disagreeing with me.”

Neither of them seemed interested in winning. They simply enjoyed arguing.

I noticed John glance back at them.

For a second he looked suspiciously close to smiling.

The sight settled something inside me.

Everyone was here.

Exactly where they were supposed to be.

Cailin seemed quieter than the rest. Not upset. Just thoughtful. Maybe even nervous.

The closer we got to the castle, the more often she glanced toward it.

I slowed until I was walking beside her.

“You doing okay?”

She looked surprised before offering a smile.

“Yeah.”

The answer came too quickly.

The kind people gave when they didn’t want to inconvenience anyone else.

I knew the feeling.

“You sure?”

She hesitated.

“A little nervous, I guess.”

I nodded.

“Me too.”

That wasn’t entirely true.

I wasn’t nervous.

But sometimes people feel better when they aren’t carrying something alone.

She looked relieved.

“Really?”

“Of course.”

The smile she gave me afterward felt genuine.

A small victory.

The conversation drifted elsewhere as we continued toward the castle.

The forest gradually fell silent around us. At some point I realized I couldn’t hear any animals anymore. No insects. No birds. Nothing except our footsteps and the sound of our conversations drifting through the trees.

Nobody else seemed bothered.

Good.

There wasn’t any reason for them to be.

Tonight was supposed to be fun.

That was the point.

Life had a habit of pulling people apart. Jobs, responsibilities, families, schedules. One day you talked to someone every day. Then every week. Then every month. Eventually you realized you couldn’t remember the last real conversation you’d had.

I hated that.

Not the distance itself.

The forgetting.

The way people slowly slipped out of each other’s lives without realizing it.

That was why I’d organized this.

The castle had given me an excuse, but the gathering had always been the important part.

Everyone together.

No distractions.

No obligations.

No one checking the time.

No one leaving early.

Just one night where everybody could exist in the same place again.

Ahead, Stefan stopped.

The rest of us nearly walked into him.

“We’re here.”

The iron gate stood before us.

Black metal twisted into elaborate designs. The entrance was already partially open, as if it had been expecting us.

A cold wind drifted through the gap.

Notes immediately took one step backward.

“Nope.”

“We’ve been over this.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you saying nope?”

“Because now the haunted castle has an evil gate.”

“There is nothing evil about the gate.”

“The gate knows what it did.”

The group laughed.

Even John smiled.

Innerverse pointed toward the gate.

“Honestly, I trust the castle more than the gate.”

“The gate hasn’t done anything.”

“Exactly. That’s suspicious.”

I looked around at everyone illuminated by lantern light.

Every voice.

Every laugh.

Every conversation.

All together.

For a brief moment I simply appreciated the sight.

Getting everyone here hadn’t been easy.

But it had been worth it.

Stefan pushed the gate open.

The iron hinges groaned.

One by one, everyone stepped through.

I followed behind them.

As the gate slowly swung shut, the sound echoed through the forest and disappeared into the night.

Relief settled quietly into my chest.

Everyone had made it.

The moment we stepped through the gate, the outside world seemed farther away.

The forest was still there. The moon still hung above the trees. Nothing had physically changed.

Yet something felt different.

The air seemed quieter somehow, as though the castle had drawn a line between itself and everything beyond its walls.

Nobody mentioned it.

Everyone was too busy staring.

The closer we got, the larger the structure became. Towering stone walls rose overhead while rows of dark windows watched from impossible heights.

“You know,” Notes said, breaking the silence, “most invitations don’t involve an ominous walk toward a giant castle.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time.”

“Good.”

“Assuming there’s a next time.”

Notes pointed at me.

“See? That’s exactly the kind of thing you shouldn’t say.”

A few laughs followed, though not as many as before. The castle seemed to swallow sound.

Stefan reached the entrance first. Massive wooden doors towered above him, reinforced with iron bands and covered in worn carvings that time had nearly erased.

“Can anyone read those?” Fiona asked.

Several people stepped closer.

Nobody could.

I already knew some of the symbols.

Not enough to translate everything.

Enough.

Remain.

Preserve.

Together.

The familiar words drifted through my mind before I pushed them aside.

The doors groaned open.

Cold air spilled outward.

“Okay,” Nat announced. “Now that’s haunted.”

The entrance hall stretched far beyond what should have been possible.

Sweeping staircases curved upward toward balconies lined with pillars. Chandeliers hung overhead, their pale flames casting a strange white glow across polished stone floors. The light illuminated everything without providing much warmth.

Even Stefan looked impressed.

“Well.”

Notes stared at him.

“That’s all you have?”

“I’m processing.”

“Process harder.”

People began spreading out through the hall. Not enough to separate, just enough to explore.

The sight made me smile.

This was exactly what I’d wanted.

Everyone sharing an experience.

Everyone together.

Everyone in one place.

A movement caught my attention.

A mirror hung between two pillars near the far wall.

For the briefest moment I thought I saw something beyond the reflection.

Not behind me.

Behind the glass.

A distant room.

A flash of sunlight.

A shape moving through a garden.

Then it was gone.

I looked away before anyone noticed.

There would be time for that later.

“Hey.”

I turned.

Cailin stood nearby.

“What do you think?”

I glanced around the hall.

The impossible architecture.

The endless corridors.

The chandeliers.

The quiet.

“I think it was worth the trip.”

She smiled.

“Yeah.”

For a while we simply watched everyone else.

Stefan was studying the layout of the hall.

Ilias was confidently explaining ancient architecture despite having absolutely no qualifications to do so.

Nat seemed determined to challenge every claim he made.

Kasu had already wandered toward something she probably shouldn’t touch.

Innerverse and Imi were somehow still arguing about the book from earlier.

I wasn’t convinced they had ever stopped.

A warm feeling settled in my chest.

Moments like this didn’t happen often anymore.

That was why tonight mattered.

A loud crash suddenly echoed somewhere deeper within the castle.

Every conversation stopped.

Heads turned toward the same dark corridor.

Silence followed.

Then Notes sighed.

“I vote we blame the castle.”

“I second that,” Nat replied.

“Motion carried.”

The tension broke just enough for a few nervous laughs.

Stefan lifted his lantern.

“Well.”

Nobody liked that word anymore.

“We should probably see what made that noise.”

A chorus of objections immediately followed.

Despite myself, I smiled.

For the first time that evening, things were finally moving forward.

Stefan’s investigation of the mysterious noise lasted all of three minutes before the group collectively decided it had probably been a loose piece of furniture.

Or a ghost.

Opinions varied.

The corridor eventually opened into another massive chamber. Unlike the entrance hall, this room felt lived in. Bookshelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling, large fireplaces rested beneath elaborate stone carvings, and portraits hung in ornate frames overlooking the room. The people within them seemed strangely familiar. Not because I recognized any of them, but because they all wore the same expression—patient, expectant, as though they had been waiting a very long time for someone to arrive.

“Okay,” Fiona announced as she looked around. “This room is significantly less creepy.”

Nat pointed toward one of the portraits.

“You’re looking at the murder portraits and saying that?”

“They’re classy murder portraits.”

“That’s somehow worse.”

The group spread throughout the room, though nobody wandered very far. The castle had already convinced everyone that staying within sight of one another was probably a good idea.

Innerverse immediately made a beeline for the bookshelves.

“Oh no,” Imi muttered.

“What?”

“You found books.”

“I found culture.”

“You found a reason to ignore everyone else.”

Innerverse ran a finger along a shelf. “Look at these bindings. Some of these are older than all of us combined.”

“Most things in this castle are older than all of us combined.”

“You’re missing the point.”

“I’m trying to.”

Nearby, John was studying the portraits. Every now and then he’d step closer to one, squint, then move to the next. I couldn’t tell what he was looking for, but he was clearly looking for something.

Across the room, Stefan and Ilias had become involved in an increasingly confident argument about architecture.

“I’m telling you, this section was added later.”

“Based on what?”

“The arches.”

“You don’t know anything about arches.”

“I know enough.”

“You got lost in a grocery store.”

“I don’t understand why everyone keeps bringing that up.”

“Because it happened.”

Meanwhile, Notes had discovered a chair and apparently decided it belonged to her now.

“The chair understands me.”

“The chair is furniture,” Nat replied.

“You’re just jealous of what we have.”

Across the room, Kasu had found a suit of armor and was attempting to convince Asuka that it was staring at her.

“It blinked.”

“It doesn’t have eyes.”

“It blinked emotionally.”

The argument continued despite the obvious flaws in Kasu’s evidence.

I found myself smiling as I watched everyone settle into the room. This was why I’d organized the trip. Not because of the castle itself, but because opportunities like this had become rare. Life had a habit of scattering people. Work schedules changed. Responsibilities piled up. Months passed faster than anyone intended.

Getting everyone together in one place wasn’t easy anymore.

Seeing it happen made the effort worthwhile.

My attention eventually drifted toward the fireplace at the far end of the room. Cailin stood there watching the others. She wasn’t isolated, merely content to observe while everyone else filled the room with conversation.

I walked over.

“Tired already?”

She laughed.

“We’ve been here like twenty minutes.”

“You never know.”

“Fair.”

For a while we simply stood there watching the others.

The room felt warmer than the entrance hall. Comfortable. Welcoming, even. The castle still felt strange, but this room felt like the sort of place people had actually lived in.

Then Cailin glanced toward me.

“I think I know why everyone likes you.”

The comment caught me off guard.

“What?”

She smiled.

“You always notice when someone gets left out.”

I looked away for a moment.

“I just pay attention.”

“Most people don’t.”

Across the room, another round of laughter erupted. Kasu had apparently escalated her disagreement with the suit of armor and was losing badly.

The armor remained unconvinced.

I laughed quietly and looked around the room again.

Stefan and Ilias were still arguing.

Innerverse had somehow convinced Imi to help her inspect the shelves.

Notes had successfully established diplomatic relations with her chair.

John was still studying portraits.

Everyone was here.

Exactly as I’d hoped.

A faint glimmer caught my attention.

I looked down.

The mirror rested safely inside my coat pocket. For just a moment, the reflection changed. The fireplace disappeared, replaced by a quiet garden beneath a bright sky. Flowering trees swayed gently in the distance. Sunlight reflected across still water.

Then the image vanished.

My hand closed around the mirror.

Soon.

Not yet.

Soon.

“Everything okay?” Cailin asked.

I looked up and smiled.

“Of course.”

The answer came naturally because it was true.

Everything was fine.

Or at least it would be.

Before either of us could continue the conversation, Stefan called out from the center of the room.

“Everyone gather up.”

People gradually drifted back together.

“We found a staircase leading downward,” Stefan explained.

“Naturally,” Notes replied.

Stefan sighed.

“Yes. Naturally.”

A few people laughed.

“We should probably stick together. This place is already weird enough, and I’d rather not spend the evening searching for anybody.”

Nobody argued.

The castle had already earned enough caution to keep everyone cooperative.

The group started toward the staircase.

Halfway there, Cailin stopped.

I noticed immediately.

“You coming?”

She looked back toward the fireplace.

“I think I left my lantern.”

Sure enough, it was still sitting beside the hearth.

“I’ll grab it.”

“You don’t have to.”

“It’s fine.”

The others continued toward the staircase. Stefan was already leading them downward, with the rest of the group following close behind.

Nobody seemed concerned.

Why would they be?

We’d only be a minute.

I crossed the room, picked up the lantern, and returned to find Cailin standing exactly where I’d left her.

Waiting.

Trusting.

The mirror felt heavier in my pocket.

I handed her the lantern.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

She smiled. The same comfortable smile she’d worn all evening.

A friend trusting another friend.

I returned the smile and raised the mirror.

Confusion crossed her face.

“Cory?”

The glass shimmered.

The room fell silent.

For a brief moment her reflection appeared within the mirror—not as she was now, but as she would be. Safe. Happy. Together.

Then the reflection moved.

The glass rippled like water.

Cailin vanished.

No scream.

No struggle.

One moment she was standing in front of me.

The next she was gone.

I looked into the mirror.

The garden had returned.

Cailin stood beneath a flowering tree, turning slowly as she tried to understand where she was. She was alive, unharmed, and safe.

Relief settled into my chest.

Good.

That was one less person the world could take away.

I slipped the mirror back into my pocket and headed for the staircase. The others would be wondering where we were, and I didn’t want them worrying.

Not tonight.

By the time I reached the staircase, everyone else had already descended.

The castle seemed determined to make every corridor longer than it should have been. Footsteps echoed somewhere below while familiar voices drifted upward through the darkness. That was good. Nobody had noticed anything yet.

The staircase eventually opened into another enormous chamber buried deep beneath the castle. Stone arches stretched overhead, and ancient lanterns lined the walls, their pale flames casting long shadows across the floor. Despite being underground, the room felt surprisingly open.

Everyone was already there.

Stefan stood near the center examining another map he’d somehow acquired. Nearby, Ilias and Nat were arguing about directions despite the fact we were standing in a single room with nowhere to go. Fiona and Asuka were inspecting carvings along one wall, while Notes had somehow located another chair and looked entirely prepared to claim it as personal property. Kasu drifted between groups, poking at anything that looked remotely interesting, while Innerverse had already discovered another collection of books and was enthusiastically sharing her findings with a visibly exhausted Imi.

John wasn’t talking.

That wasn’t unusual.

He stood near one of the archways studying the room itself, occasionally glancing toward the corridors branching away from the chamber.

“About time,” Notes called when she spotted me. “You got lost.”

“I was helping Cailin.”

The explanation came naturally.

It wasn’t even a lie.

Notes nodded, apparently satisfied.

For a while things continued normally. Conversations resumed. People explored. The tension that had settled over the castle earlier seemed to ease as everyone occupied themselves.

Then Asuka frowned.

“Where’s Cailin?”

The question cut through every conversation.

For a moment nobody answered. People glanced around the room, toward the stairwell, the surrounding corridors, and the groups gathered beneath the lantern light.

Cailin wasn’t there.

Stefan looked up immediately.

“I thought she was with you.”

“She was.”

The room’s attention shifted toward me.

“She forgot her lantern upstairs,” I explained. “I brought it back to her and assumed she was right behind me.”

“And she never came down?” Fiona asked.

I shook my head.

The silence that followed felt heavier than it should have.

“Maybe she’s still upstairs?” Kasu suggested.

“She would’ve caught up by now,” Nat replied.

Ilias nodded reluctantly. “The staircase wasn’t that long.”

Nobody seemed eager to say what everyone was thinking.

People didn’t simply disappear.

Not in a castle.

Not anywhere.

Stefan folded the map and slipped it into his pocket.

“Nobody wanders off alone. We’re going back.”

The decision came so quickly that nobody argued.

Within minutes the group was moving again. Stefan organized search routes while everyone spread through the nearby corridors and rooms. People called Cailin’s name. Doors were opened. Empty chambers were checked. Every plausible explanation was explored and discarded.

Nothing.

No sign of her.

The castle remained stubbornly silent.

After nearly an hour everyone returned to the underground chamber, and by then the atmosphere had changed completely. The excitement from earlier was gone. Even the conversations felt subdued.

Notes dropped into her chair.

“She wouldn’t just disappear.”

“No,” Fiona agreed quietly. “She wouldn’t.”

Innerverse sat beside Imi with a book resting forgotten in her lap. For perhaps the first time all evening she wasn’t talking about it.

Kasu paced.

Nat looked irritated in the way people often did when they were worried and didn’t know what to do about it.

Stefan stood near the center of the room, arms crossed as he thought.

John remained silent.

Watching.

Listening.

Paying attention.

I sat quietly and listened to everyone.

Part of me felt guilty.

Not because of what I’d done.

Because they were hurting.

That wasn’t what I’d wanted.

My hand drifted toward my pocket. The mirror remained hidden beneath my coat, warm against my side. For a brief moment I considered checking on Cailin. Seeing the garden again would have been reassuring.

Instead I resisted.

There would be time later.

Patience.

The castle had waited years.

I could wait a little longer.

“Maybe we should leave.”

The suggestion came from Imi.

Several heads turned immediately.

Nobody answered right away.

Stefan rubbed his forehead.

“We’re not leaving someone behind.”

“I’m not saying we abandon her,” Imi replied. “I’m saying this place is getting weird.”

“Getting?” Notes asked.

A few people laughed despite themselves.

The sound faded quickly.

“We’re not leaving,” Stefan said.

“No.”

The response came from John.

Everyone looked toward him.

His expression was calm, but there was a firmness in his voice that immediately ended the discussion.

“We don’t leave people behind.”

Several people nodded.

Including me.

John had always been like that. Steady. Reliable. The kind of person people naturally trusted when things became difficult.

The kind of friend worth keeping.

A realization settled into the back of my mind.

If people continued disappearing, John would eventually become a problem.

Not because he would panic.

Because he would notice.

I found myself watching him as the discussion continued. John rarely spoke unless he had something worth saying, which meant he spent most of his time observing. He looked down corridors before entering them. He noticed details other people overlooked. He listened more than he talked.

Eventually he caught me staring.

“What?”

I smiled.

“Nothing.”

John studied me for a moment.

Not suspicious, not accusatory simply curious.

Then he looked away.

That was somehow worse.

Eventually Stefan straightened.

“We’re continuing the search.”

Nobody argued. What else could they do?

People gathered their belongings and checked their lanterns. Conversations resumed, though they remained noticeably quieter than before. The excitement of exploring a mysterious castle had been replaced by a much more immediate concern.

As everyone prepared to move, I rested my hand against the mirror hidden in my pocket.

The glass felt warm.

Comforting.

For just a moment, I thought I heard laughter beyond the reflection.

Cailin’s laughter.

I pictured her beneath the flowering trees, safe from everything that could hurt her.

Despite everything happening around me, I found myself smiling.

At least one person was enjoying the evening.

The second search was noticeably less organized than the first.

People tried. Stefan still did his best to maintain some structure, assigning routes and keeping everyone moving in roughly the same direction, but the energy had changed. The castle no longer felt like an adventure. It felt like a problem, and nobody seemed to know how to solve it.

Our group moved through a series of winding corridors and empty rooms. Libraries filled with untouched books. Ballrooms that looked ready to host guests despite decades—or centuries—of abandonment. Dining halls with tables still set as though someone had simply stepped away for a moment.

Everywhere we looked, we found signs of people.

Just never people themselves.

It was as though the castle had been waiting for guests.

Just not the kind we expected.

I found myself near the back of the group, mostly listening. Everyone processed worry differently. Kasu had become noticeably less energetic. Fiona kept glancing over her shoulder whenever the hallways grew too quiet. Imi looked frustrated. Notes looked irritated, which admittedly wasn’t a dramatic departure from normal. Asuka stayed close to Stefan, while Nat seemed increasingly convinced the castle was personally responsible for everything that had gone wrong.

John continued watching everything.

The more I paid attention, the more obvious it became. He wasn’t looking for Cailin anymore.

Not exclusively.

He was looking for patterns.

Eventually the group entered a long gallery lined with mirrors.

Hundreds of them.

Every wall seemed covered. Tall mirrors. Small mirrors. Ornate mirrors framed in gold. Plain mirrors set directly into the stone. The sight immediately brought the group to a halt.

“No.”

Nat folded her arms.

“Absolutely not.”

“What now?” Ilias asked.

“Mirror hallway.”

“And?”

“Mirror hallway.”

“That’s not an explanation.”

“It shouldn’t need one.”

Several people nodded.

Notes pointed dramatically at Nat.

“She’s right.”

“Thank you.”

“Nothing good has ever happened in a mirror hallway.”

“You’re basing that entirely on horror movies.”

“And they’ve never been wrong.”

Innerverse stepped closer to one of the mirrors.

“You know, statistically speaking, some mirror hallways have to be harmless.”

“Name one,” Imi said.

Innerverse opened her mouth.

Paused.

Then pointed at the mirror.

“I refuse to answer under these conditions.”

Even John smiled at that.

For a moment the tension eased.

Then the hallway stretched out before us again, filled with endless reflections and pale lantern light.

Stefan eventually pushed forward.

The rest of us followed.

The corridor seemed far longer than it should have been. Reflections multiplied endlessly around us. Every lantern became dozens. Every person became hundreds. Looking too long made it difficult to tell where the hallway ended and the mirrors began.

At some point I noticed John had fallen behind.

That was unusual.

I slowed my pace until I was walking beside him.

“You okay?”

He didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he continued studying the mirrors.

“Something’s wrong.”

The statement wasn’t dramatic.

If anything, it sounded annoyingly reasonable.

“Besides the missing people?”

John glanced toward me.

“Yes.”

I smiled.

“Helpful.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know.”

Ahead of us, the group continued walking. Innerverse was still talking, though the mirrors made it impossible to tell exactly where her voice was coming from.

Something about haunted libraries.

Or haunted books.

Or haunted librarians.

I wasn’t entirely sure.

John stopped walking.

The others continued ahead just far enough for their voices to become distant.

“You were the last person with Cailin.”

There it was.

The question he’d been carrying.

The thought he’d been turning over.

I kept my expression calm.

“I know.”

“You don’t find that strange?”

“Of course I do.”

John looked unconvinced.

Not suspicious, not yet.

Just unconvinced.

His eyes drifted toward the mirrors before returning to me.

“I think this place is changing people.”

That answer genuinely surprised me.

Not because he was wrong.

Because he was wrong in a completely different direction.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know.”

His frustration was obvious.

“The castle feels...” He paused. “Hungry.”

The word lingered between us.

I looked down the hallway toward the distant lantern light and the others moving ahead.

Toward John.

Toward the people I’d worked so hard to bring here.

John was worried.

Not for himself.

For everyone else.

That was the problem.

John would never stop looking for answers. He would never stop trying to help people, even when they didn’t need help. He cared too much, and people like that rarely accepted things they couldn’t understand.

A small pang of sadness touched me.

I genuinely liked John.

More than most people realized.

Unfortunately, caring people were often the hardest to convince.

“You know,” I said, “I think you worry too much.”

John laughed softly.

“Cory.”

“What?”

“That’s usually your line.”

I couldn’t help laughing.

For a moment neither of us spoke.

The mirrors reflected us endlessly in every direction. Hundreds of versions of the same conversation stretched away into the distance.

Eventually John shook his head.

“We should catch up.”

“We should.”

He started walking.

I remained where I was.

Only for a moment.

My hand slipped into my pocket and closed around the mirror.

The glass felt warm against my fingertips.

Ahead of me, John continued toward the others. I found myself watching his reflection rather than the real man. Watching one version of him after another pass through the endless mirrors.

For a moment I imagined him inside the garden.

Still helping people.

Still offering advice.

Still keeping everyone together.

Forever.

A kinder ending than the world usually offered.

I smiled faintly and followed after him.

Not yet.

But soon.

The hallway eventually ended in a circular chamber.

Unlike most of the castle, this room felt oddly intimate. There were no towering ceilings, endless corridors, or massive chandeliers hanging overhead. Instead, a single round room sat at the center of the castle’s maze, lined with bookshelves and illuminated by soft lantern light. A fireplace crackled quietly against one wall, casting warm shadows across the floor.

For the first time since arriving, the castle felt comfortable.

Almost welcoming.

Naturally, nobody trusted it.

“This is a trap,” Nat announced immediately.

“Everything is a trap to you.”

“Everything here deserves it.”

“I can’t argue with that.”

Several people settled into the room anyway. The search had exhausted everyone emotionally more than physically, and even Stefan finally sat down. His map rested folded beside him while Asuka took a seat nearby. Fiona and Imi quietly discussed where they should search next. Notes had already discovered a chair and claimed it as her own.

Across the room, Ilias was still attempting to explain the castle.

“I think the layout is intentional.”

Nat stared at him.

“We’re trapped in a haunted castle.”

“Allegedly haunted.”

“People disappeared.”

“That doesn’t automatically make it haunted.”

“It absolutely does.”

Ilias sighed.

“I regret engaging with you.”

“No you don’t.”

“No, I don’t.”

For a brief moment, the room almost felt normal.

Kasu sat on the floor near the fireplace, absentmindedly turning a lantern in her hands. Innerverse wandered between groups, unable to stay in one place for very long, while John sat quietly near one of the bookshelves staring into the fire.

Nobody was truly relaxing.

Everyone was thinking about Cailin.

I listened to the crackling fireplace and watched the shadows shift across the walls. My gaze drifted from person to person.

Stefan.

Asuka.

Fiona.

Imi.

Notes.

Nat.

Ilias.

Kasu.

Innerverse.

John.

My friends.

The thought lingered.

The longer I looked at them, the stronger the feeling became. It was the same feeling I’d had at the gate and the same feeling I’d felt watching everyone gather at the trailhead.

The reason I’d organized all of this.

I didn’t want the night to end.

I didn’t want another gathering to become another memory people talked about once or twice before drifting apart again. Life had a habit of doing that. Not because people wanted to. Everyone simply had somewhere else to be.

The mirror didn’t.

The mirror kept them.

Safe.

Together.

Forever.

My thumb brushed the glass through my pocket.

It was warm and comforting.

Eventually John stood.

“I’m going to take another look around.”

Stefan immediately looked up.

“Alone?”

Before John could answer, Innerverse pointed at him.

“Absolutely not.”

John blinked.

“What?”

“You are exactly the type of person who disappears first.”

“I didn’t realize there was a type.”

“There is.”

Notes nodded.

“There definitely is.”

Nat pointed toward John.

“She’s right.”

“I hate that everyone agrees.”

“It’s because we’re correct,” Innerverse said.

John sighed.

“I’m checking a nearby corridor.”

“And I’m making sure the castle doesn’t eat you.”

“Castles don’t eat people.”

Nobody said anything.

John looked around.

“Okay, poor choice of words.”

Even Ilias laughed at that.

Stefan rubbed his forehead.

“Stay close.”

“We will.”

Innerverse immediately pointed at John.

“He will. I make no promises.”

The room managed a few tired laughs.

John shook his head and headed for the door. Innerverse followed a few steps behind, still talking.

The heavy wooden door closed behind them.

The room felt noticeably quieter afterward.

I waited.

One minute.

Two.

Three.

Then I stood.

Stefan looked up.

“Where are you going?”

“Checking on them.”

He nodded immediately.

Of course he did.

Why wouldn’t he?

The corridor beyond the room was empty and strangely quiet. The castle seemed to absorb every sound. I followed the faint lantern light until I eventually found them standing before a large stained-glass window.

Moonlight filtered through the colored glass, painting the floor in red, blue, and gold.

Neither of them turned around.

“I figured you’d follow us,” Innerverse said.

I smiled.

“That obvious?”

“A little.”

John finally looked back.

There was no accusation in his expression.

No anger.

Just concern.

Which somehow made this harder.

“You know what I keep thinking about?” he asked.

“What?”

“Cailin.”

The answer wasn’t surprising.

“Me too.”

“I don’t think she’s hurt.”

That caught my attention.

Innerverse looked over.

“You don’t?”

John shook his head.

“I can’t explain it. I just don’t.”

A small laugh escaped him.

“Which sounds ridiculous.”

“A little,” Innerverse admitted.

“But I don’t think she is either.”

For a moment, nobody spoke.

Then John turned back toward the stained glass.

“I think somebody is keeping secrets.”

The words hung in the corridor.

John looked toward me.

Not suspicious or afraid, just honest.

“Cory.”

My name sounded different coming from him.

More personal.

“We should leave.”

The certainty in his voice surprised me.

“We haven’t found Cailin.”

“I know.”

“Then—”

“We should leave after we find her.”

John stepped closer.

“I don’t think this place wants us here.”

The irony almost made me laugh.

The castle wanted them here very much.

More than any of them realized.

The mirror shifted inside my pocket.

A familiar warmth spread through the fabric.

John noticed my expression.

“What?”

I looked at him.

Then at Innerverse.

Two people who cared too much.

Two people who would never stop asking questions.

Two people who would keep trying to save everyone else.

A deep sadness settled into my chest.

I genuinely liked them.

“John.”

His expression softened.

“Yeah?”

“You don’t have to worry anymore.”

Confusion crossed both their faces.

“What?” Innerverse asked.

I removed the mirror.

Moonlight reflected across the glass while colors from the stained-glass window danced across its surface.

For a moment neither of them understood what they were seeing.

Then the mirror shimmered.

The reflection changed.

The corridor disappeared.

The stained-glass window vanished.

In its place stood a beautiful garden bathed in sunlight.

“Cory...” John said quietly.

For once, Innerverse didn’t have anything to say.

I smiled.

A reassuring smile.

The same one I’d given countless times before.

“It’s okay.”

Because I meant it.

The mirror pulled.

The glass rippled outward.

And both of them vanished.

Silence returned immediately.

I stared into the reflection.

The garden stretched beneath a bright blue sky. Cailin sat beneath a flowering tree while John and Innerverse stood nearby, looking around in confusion.

Relief settled into my chest.

Now none of them had to worry anymore.

I slipped the mirror back into my pocket and turned toward the corridor.

The others would be waiting.

And I still had friends left to take care of.

When I returned, everyone immediately looked up.

The room had changed.

Not physically, but emotionally.

The few conversations that had remained were gone now. Even the fire seemed quieter. Notes sat forward in her chair instead of lounging in it, and Stefan was already on his feet before I reached the center of the room.

“Where are John and Innerverse?”

Straight to the point.

Very Stefan.

I glanced behind me before frowning.

“They aren’t with you?” Fiona asked.

The concern in her voice was immediate.

“They were.”

Every word I spoke was true.

At least partially.

“We were checking the eastern corridor.”

“What happened?” Asuka asked.

I shook my head.

“I lost sight of them.”

The room fell silent.

Not just because John was missing.

Because Innerverse was too.

For a moment nobody seemed to know how to process that.

John disappearing was alarming.

Innerverse disappearing felt impossible.

“You’re telling me both of them vanished?” Notes asked.

“I don’t know if they vanished.”

“They vanished,” Nat said immediately.

“We don’t know that.”

“They walked into a haunted castle corridor and didn’t come back.”

“Allegedly haunted,” Ilias replied automatically.

Nat stared at him.

“Now?”

“...”

Under different circumstances that might have earned a laugh.

Nobody laughed.

Across the room, Imi had gone noticeably pale. That caught my attention. She’d spent most of the evening following Innerverse from room to room, listening to endless observations about books, architecture, and whatever else happened to catch her attention.

The silence left behind felt wrong.

Stefan rubbed a hand across his face. For the first time all evening, he looked genuinely exhausted.

“We need to leave.”

The statement surprised everyone.

Including me.

Stefan had spent the entire night pushing forward. Searching. Leading. Solving. Seeing him finally reach his limit felt strange.

“We’re not leaving them,” Imi said immediately.

“I know.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying something is wrong.”

Nobody argued.

There wasn’t much point anymore.

Something was obviously wrong.

The castle practically radiated it.

Stefan looked around the room, counting the faces that remained.

Asuka.

Fiona.

Imi.

Notes.

Nat.

Ilias.

Kasu.

Me.

His expression tightened.

“We find the entrance. We gather everyone. Then we leave.”

Leave.

The word echoed through my thoughts.

The thing people always did eventually.

The thing I hated.

I forced a smile.

“Sounds reasonable.”

Stefan nodded, apparently reassured.

People began gathering their belongings. Lanterns were checked. Bags were adjusted. Notes reluctantly abandoned her chair. Across the room, Ilias was already studying Stefan’s map.

“Do we actually know where the entrance is?” he asked.

“No,” Nat replied.

“Wonderful.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“Not helping.”

“Neither is the castle.”

A few tired smiles appeared.

Not many.

Just enough to remind me people were still trying.

The remaining group felt noticeably smaller now.

Cailin, John, Innerverse.

Three absences.

Three empty spaces.

The evening wasn’t supposed to end yet.

Not this quickly.

The castle seemed to agree.

The moment we stepped into the corridor, several lanterns flickered simultaneously. A low rumble echoed somewhere beneath the floor, vibrating through the stone walls.

Nobody liked that.

“Tell me that’s normal.”

“It isn’t.”

“Thank you, Stefan.”

“You’re welcome.”

The castle groaned.

A deep, ancient sound rolled through the corridors before an entire section of wall slid across a nearby hallway. Stone ground against stone, echoing endlessly through the darkness.

Everyone froze.

“What was that?” Kasu asked.

The answer arrived a second later.

The hallway behind us disappeared.

Solid stone replaced it.

For several seconds nobody moved.

Then Notes spoke.

“Nope.”

Nobody laughed.

Not this time.

Stefan’s expression darkened.

“We move.”

Nobody argued.

The castle had stopped pretending to be passive.

The corridors twisted and doubled back on themselves. More than once we passed places that should have been impossible to revisit. Even Ilias eventually stopped trying to explain it.

“Don’t.”

Nat pointed before he could speak.

“I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“You were.”

“I was.”

Despite everything, a few smiles appeared.

Small and brief ones.

The castle seemed determined to keep us moving.

Or perhaps keep us occupied.

The thought made me smile.

“Why are you smiling?”

I looked toward Nat.

She was watching me.

Suspicious.

Curious.

Mostly suspicious.

“Nothing.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It rarely is.”

Normally that would’ve earned a laugh.

Not tonight.

Nat looked away first.

Good.

Fear makes people imagine connections that aren’t there.

Ahead, the corridor opened into a massive chamber dominated by an enormous clock. The structure towered nearly three stories high while gears turned behind exposed glass panels.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

The sound filled the room.

Nobody spoke.

The clock seemed to demand silence.

I found myself staring at it. At the steady passage of time. The thing that took everything eventually.

Friends. Memories. Moments. Lives.

The mirror remained warm in my pocket.

Unlike the clock, the mirror preserved things.

The mirror remembered.

The mirror kept people where they belonged.

A scream suddenly echoed through the room.

Everyone spun around.

The sound lasted only a second.

But every person recognized the voice.

Kasu.

The problem was that Kasu stood right beside us.

Pale, frozen, and terrified.

“I...” she stammered.

“That was me.”

The room fell silent.

Then the scream came again.

Distant, echoing, and identical to hers.

Kasu’s face lost all color.

Genuine fear spread through the group.

The scream never came a third time.

The silence afterward felt much worse.

Nobody knew how to respond.

How do you react to hearing your own voice scream from somewhere inside a castle?

You just don’t.

You keep moving because the alternative is thinking about it.

Stefan immediately took control.

“We stay together.”

Nobody argued.

Not even Notes.

That alone said a lot.

The group tightened into a single cluster and left the clock room behind. Every conversation felt forced now. Every attempt at humor faded quickly. People watched corners, shadows, and each other.

Especially each other.

I noticed it when Fiona glanced toward me.

Then Nat.

Then Imi.

The pattern wasn’t difficult to see.

They were counting.

The same way John would’ve.

The same way I would’ve.

Cailin disappeared after being alone with me.

John and Innerverse disappeared after being alone with me.

Coincidences only lasted so long.

Oddly enough, that didn’t bother me.

It meant they were paying attention.

John would’ve appreciated that.

Ahead, Stefan raised his lantern.

The corridor split into three separate paths.

“Wonderful.”

Nobody responded.

Stefan sighed.

“Right.”

His exhaustion was becoming harder to hide.

He studied the routes before pointing toward the center passage.

“We take that one.”

“Based on what?” Notes asked.

“Blind optimism.”

“Excellent.”

“We’re running low on alternatives.”

The group moved forward.

I noticed Asuka staying close to Stefan while Fiona drifted nearer to Nat. Imi remained beside Notes. Kasu stayed near the center of the group. Nobody wanted to be alone anymore.

That created a problem.

Fortunately, the castle solved it for me.

A grinding sound echoed through the walls.

Everyone froze.

“Again?” Nat muttered.

Stone shifted somewhere ahead.

Then somewhere behind.

The corridor trembled.

For a moment nobody moved.

Then the floor lurched violently.

People stumbled. Lanterns swung wildly. Several people grabbed the walls for balance.

Stefan immediately shouted,

“Stay together!”

The corridor disagreed.

A massive section of stone slammed down from the ceiling directly between us. The impact shook the hallway. Dust exploded outward. People screamed.

When the dust finally settled, the group had been divided.

On my side stood only Kasu.

The others were trapped beyond the wall.

Voices immediately erupted from the opposite side.

“Everyone okay?”

“Kasu?”

“Cory?”

“We’re fine!” I shouted back.

Mostly true.

Kasu’s breathing was shaky, but she wasn’t hurt.

The barrier stretched from floor to ceiling without any visible mechanism. Just solid stone.

Kasu looked at me.

Then at the wall.

Then back at me.

“What do we do?”

I offered the same reassuring smile I’d given everyone all evening.

The one people trusted.

The one that always worked.

“We’ll find another way around.”

Her shoulders relaxed slightly.

Good. Trust is a wonderful thing.

Especially when it’s deserved.

I gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t worry.”

And I meant it.

Because unlike the others...

I knew exactly where she was going.

Kasu followed close behind me as we moved through the corridor.

Not because she wanted to.

Because there wasn’t much choice.

The castle had made sure of that.

The stone barrier remained firmly in place behind us. The others continued shouting from the opposite side for a while, but their voices grew fainter with every step until even those disappeared.

Leaving only silence.

And the sound of our footsteps.

I kept my lantern raised as the corridor curved gently ahead. Kasu stayed unusually close. Every few seconds she glanced over her shoulder, as though expecting the others to suddenly appear behind us.

They never did.

“Hey.”

I looked toward her.

“You okay?”

The question earned a weak laugh.

“We’re trapped in a haunted castle.”

“True.”

“Three people vanished.”

“Also true.”

“The walls just split everyone apart.”

“Very fair.”

For a moment she smiled.

Only a little.

But it was something. Good.

I hated seeing people upset.

Especially my friends.

Kasu had always been one of the easiest people to make smile. The kind of person who brightened a room simply by walking into it. Even tonight, before everything went wrong, she’d spent most of her time trying to keep everyone else’s spirits up.

People like that were rare.

The world wasn’t particularly kind to rare things.

Eventually we reached a small chamber.

Unlike the grand halls we’d passed earlier, this room felt almost personal. A couch rested against one wall. A small table occupied the center. Books sat neatly arranged on nearby shelves. The entire place looked as though someone had been living there only hours ago.

Kasu stopped in the doorway.

“What is this place?”

Good question.

The room felt different.

Comfortable even.

The castle seemed to enjoy making people comfortable.

“We should rest for a minute.”

Kasu visibly relaxed.

“Yeah.”

She sat down almost immediately. The exhaustion on her face had become impossible to miss. Fear was tiring.

Worry even more so.

I sat across from her.

For a while neither of us spoke. The silence didn’t feel awkward.

Eventually Kasu looked up.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

She hesitated.

Then sighed.

“I feel bad for even thinking it.”

I already knew where this was going.

The same thought had been growing inside several people for a while now.

“Thinking what?”

Her eyes met mine.

Then drifted away.

Then returned again.

“You were with Cailin.”

There it was.

I remained quiet.

“You were also with John and Innerverse.”

I nodded.

The honesty seemed to surprise her.

“Yeah.”

A long pause followed.

Then she hurried to continue.

“I don’t think you did anything.”

The words came too quickly.

Too defensively.

As though she were trying to convince herself.

Not me.

“I know.”

Relief immediately appeared on her face.

That fascinated me.

Not because she believed me.

Because she wanted to.

People preferred comfortable answers. They wanted the world to make sense. They wanted their friends to remain their friends.

I understood that.

I wanted the same thing.

More than anyone.

“You know what I think?” I asked.

“What?”

“I think everyone’s scared.”

Kasu laughed softly.

“Obviously.”

“And scared people look for explanations.”

She nodded.

That made sense to her.

Of course it did.

Because it was true.

Just not the whole truth.

A small part of me felt guilty.

Not for misleading her.

For making her worry at all.

That had never been the goal.

The mirror shifted inside my pocket.

I glanced toward the nearby bookshelf before looking back at Kasu. She seemed calmer now. More relaxed.

That’s what friends were supposed to do.

Help each other.

Support each other.

Protect each other.

The thought lingered.

Protect.

Such a simple word.

Such a misunderstood one.

People thought protection meant helping someone through hardship. Helping them endure. Helping them survive.

But survival was temporary.

Eventually hardship returned.

Eventually loss returned.

Eventually the world took something else.

The mirror didn’t.

The mirror kept people safe.

The realization brought an unexpected sense of peace.

Kasu eventually stood.

“We should keep moving.”

I looked up.

She smiled.

A small one.

But genuine.

“Stefan’s probably losing his mind right now.”

I laughed.

“Probably.”

The image wasn’t difficult to imagine.

We headed toward the door.

Kasu reached it first.

Then stopped.

A strange expression crossed her face.

One of confusion and curiosity.

She was staring at the wall beside the doorway.

I already knew what she’d noticed.

A mirror, it was tall and elegant

Embedded directly into the stone.

Unlike the others we’d seen throughout the castle, this one looked familiar.

Very familiar.

Kasu stepped closer.

“That’s strange.”

The reflection showed the room.

The couch.

The bookshelf.

The lantern.

Me.

But not Kasu.

Her brow furrowed.

“That’s...”

The confusion deepened.

Then realization began to form.

Slowly.

She turned toward me.

The question was already visible in her eyes.

I smiled.

A warm smile.

A reassuring smile.

The same smile she’d trusted all evening.

The same smile everyone trusted.

“It’s okay.”

The words came naturally.

Because they were true.

Kasu took a step backward.

Not from fear.

From understanding.

The mirror shimmered.

The glass rippled.

Sunlight bloomed across the reflection.

The garden appeared.

Bright, warm, and peaceful.

A place untouched by time.

Untouched by distance.

Untouched by goodbyes.

For the first time that evening, I saw genuine sadness cross Kasu’s face.

Not because she understood the mirror.

Because she understood me.

That hurt more than I expected.

“Cory...”

Her voice was barely above a whisper.

I stepped forward.

“You’ll like it there.”

The mirror reached outward.

The room fell silent.

And Kasu disappeared.

When I found the others again, nobody looked relieved.

Not this time.

The reaction was immediate. They looked past me, searching the corridor behind me. Counting. Hoping.

Then their expressions fell.

Stefan closed his eyes.

Only for a second.

But everyone noticed.

“Where’s Kasu?”

Nobody wanted to ask that question anymore.

The words hurt now.

I stopped a few feet from the group.

The corridor suddenly felt smaller than before. The castle seemed intent on forcing us closer together, making every absence impossible to ignore.

“I lost her.”

The explanation sounded hollow, even to me.

Nobody spoke for several seconds.

Then Nat laughed.

A short, humorless sound.

The kind people make when they don’t know what else to do.

“Of course you did.”

The remark wasn’t cruel, it wasn’t even angry.

I looked toward her.

She immediately looked away.

The thought had finally escaped containment.

Nobody wanted to say it directly.

But everyone was thinking it.

Stefan rubbed his forehead before looking at me.

Not accusing.

Not trusting.

Something in between.

A place I’d never seen him stand before.

“Did you see what happened?”

The wording caught my attention.

Not what happened.

Did you see it?

A subtle difference.

A meaningful one.

I considered my answer.

Then nodded.

“There was another shift.”

Not a lie.

“The corridor separated.”

Also true.

“By the time I reached her, she was gone.”

Close enough.

Stefan stared at me for a long moment before looking away.

I could see it in his posture.

The exhaustion.

The responsibility.

The growing certainty that people were disappearing and he couldn’t stop it.

A small pang of sympathy touched me.

Poor Stefan.

He was trying so hard.

The problem was that he still thought leaving would solve this.

It wouldn’t.

Leaving was always the problem.

Eventually he straightened.

“We’re finding the entrance.”

Nobody argued.

Nobody suggested continuing the search.

Nobody offered alternatives.

That shift felt important.

The group had stopped trying to understand the castle.

Now they simply wanted to escape it.

I hated that.

The castle wasn’t hurting them.

The world hurt people.

Distance hurt people.

Time hurt people.

The castle preserved them.

The castle kept things from being lost.

Why couldn’t they see that?

Ahead, the corridor opened into another chamber.

A beautiful one.

Moonlight streamed through stained-glass windows, scattering color across polished floors. Long tables stretched through the center of the room while an enormous clock stood against the far wall.

Its steady ticking filled the silence.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Nobody trusted beautiful rooms anymore.

Stefan stopped near the center.

The rest of us naturally gathered around him.

Asuka.

Fiona.

Nat.

Ilias.

Imi.

Notes.

Stefan.

And me.

The circle looked wrong, it was too small.

Cailin.

John.

Innerverse.

Kasu.

Four missing people.

Four empty spaces sitting among us.

Finally, Stefan spoke.

“We need to talk.”

Nobody interrupted.

Even Notes remained silent.

That alone felt unnatural.

Stefan looked around the circle, meeting each person’s eyes.

One at a time.

“We’ve lost too many people.”

The statement landed heavily.

Nobody disagreed.

“We’re staying together.”

Several people nodded immediately.

Almost desperately.

That would make things harder.

But not impossible.

“We don’t split up.”

More nods.

“No wandering off.”

Again, agreement.

“If you need something, somebody comes with you.”

This time several people exchanged glances.

The implication wasn’t subtle anymore.

The room grew noticeably quieter.

Then Stefan looked at me.

Not intentionally, or as an accusation.

Just because I happened to be standing there.

Unfortunately, everyone else noticed too.

The silence stretched.

I could practically hear people thinking.

The pattern had become impossible to ignore.

For a moment I wondered whether I should feel offended.

Then I realized something.

This was trust.

Broken trust.

But trust all the same.

The only reason they were struggling with the idea was because they knew me.

Because they liked me.

Because they wanted another explanation.

That realization softened something inside me.

They really were wonderful people.

Exactly the sort of people worth keeping.

Forever.

A sudden crash echoed somewhere above us. Everyone jumped. Lanterns swung wildly. The clock continued ticking.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Then another sound followed.

A voice, faint, distant. Almost impossible to hear. Yet it was unmistakable.

“Cory.”

My heart skipped.

Not from fear.

Recognition.

The voice had come from somewhere deep within the castle.

And I knew exactly who it belonged to.

Kasu.

The others heard it too.

I saw it immediately in their expressions.

Confusion, shock, and hope.

The worst possible combination.

Stefan turned toward the ceiling.

“Kasu?”

Silence answered.

Then the voice came again.

Fainter this time.

Almost playful.

“Cory.”

The mirror shifted warmly in my pocket.

A new thought occurred to me.

The castle wasn’t simply helping anymore.

It was participating.

I wasn’t the only one trying to keep people here.

Nobody spoke for several seconds after Kasu’s voice faded.

The clock continued ticking.

Steady and unbothered

The sound seemed louder now, almost deliberate.

Stefan stood staring upward, listening and hoping for another response. Nothing came. Eventually the room settled back into silence—the kind that forms after hope appears and then vanishes again. The worst kind of silence.

Nat folded her arms tightly.

“Okay.”

Nobody looked at her.

“Either I’m losing my mind, or that was Kasu.”

Nobody argued.

Because it had been.

Even if none of them understood how.

Imi glanced toward the ceiling.

“Maybe she’s nearby.”

The suggestion sounded desperate, and even she seemed aware of it.

Notes rubbed her face.

“Three hours ago I would’ve agreed.”

“And now?”

“Now I think this castle enjoys making fools of us.”

That’s reasonable.

The castle did seem to enjoy things.

Stefan finally stepped forward.

“We’re moving.”

Simple, direct, and comforting.

Leadership often is.

Nobody objected.

The group gathered their things and prepared to leave. Asuka stayed close to Stefan while Fiona lingered near Nat. Ilias checked the map for what was probably the hundredth time despite having no reason to believe it still reflected reality. Imi remained quiet. Notes looked increasingly irritated with the universe itself.

I noticed something else as we moved.

Nobody walked beside me.

Not intentionally.

Not obviously.

But the pattern was there.

Small gaps.

Tiny distances.

People unconsciously arranging themselves elsewhere.

Stefan occupied the front. Fiona stayed near Asuka. Nat walked beside Ilias. Imi remained close to Notes.

Leaving me toward the rear.

Alone.

I wasn’t angry.

I understood why they were doing it.

Fear changes people.

It makes them cautious.

Suspicious.

Protective.

Part of me wished they trusted me more.

Then I immediately pushed the thought away.

That wasn’t fair.

They were frightened.

That was all.

Soon enough, they’d understand.

The corridor beyond the clock room twisted through several more sections of the castle. The architecture grew stranger with every turn. Entire rooms appeared to exist inside other rooms. Windows overlooked impossible landscapes. At one point we passed a balcony overlooking a moonlit forest that couldn’t possibly fit inside the castle.

Nobody commented on it.

By now, impossible things barely registered.

The group had become focused on a single objective.

Leave.

Find the entrance.

Leave.

Find the others.

Leave.

I found it oddly sad.

The castle had given them everything they’d wanted.

Time together.

Freedom from responsibilities.

No schedules.

No obligations.

No one rushing home.

No one checking the clock.

No one disappearing because life became inconvenient.

And still they wanted to leave.

People always did.

Ahead, Stefan suddenly stopped.

Everyone nearly collided with one another.

“What now?” Nat asked.

Stefan didn’t answer.

He simply pointed.

The corridor ahead had ended.

Not with a wall.

Not with a door.

With a mirror.

A massive one.

It stretched from floor to ceiling, its silver frame woven directly into the surrounding stone. The reflection showed the corridor behind us.

Nothing unusual.

Nothing threatening.

Just us.

Standing there and walking.

The sight made my pulse quicken.

The castle was becoming bold.

“Please tell me we’re not going through that,” Ilias said.

His exhaustion was becoming almost impressive.

“Nobody is touching the creepy mirror,” Nat replied immediately.

For once, everyone seemed united.

Then the reflection smiled.

Nobody in the corridor had moved.

Nobody.

Yet the reflection smiled.

A collective curse erupted from the group. Several people stumbled backward while Stefan instinctively raised his lantern.

The mirror became still again.

Normal.

As though nothing had happened.

“Okay.”

Notes pointed at it.

“That one was haunted.”

Finally.

Proof.

Nobody argued.

The castle seemed almost pleased with itself.

I found myself smiling.

Then immediately stopped.

Because Fiona had noticed.

Not the mirror.

Me.

For a brief moment our eyes met.

Neither of us looked away immediately.

Something passed between us.

Not understanding or certainty, but a question.

Then she had looked elsewhere.

The moment ended.

But the feeling remained.

The group resumed moving shortly afterward. Nobody wanted to remain near the mirror, especially after it began softly laughing behind us.

The sound followed us far longer than it should have.

The castle was becoming playful now.

The thought should have concerned me.

Instead I found it comforting.

Playfulness meant confidence.

Confidence meant success.

Eventually the corridor opened into a massive conservatory.

Glass ceilings stretched overhead. Moonlight poured through them, illuminating flowers, trees, and winding vines. An entire garden existed within the heart of the castle.

Everyone stopped again.

The castle had become very good at making people stop.

“This wasn’t here before.”

Asuka’s voice barely rose above a whisper.

She was right.

It hadn’t been.

Stefan slowly looked around the garden. The exhaustion on his face deepened.

The poor man was running out of answers.

I understood.

There was only so much a leader could do when reality itself stopped cooperating.

Then, unexpectedly, he turned toward me.

Not suspiciously or aggressively.

“Cory.”

“Yeah?”

Stefan looked around the garden. At the moonlight. At the flowers. At the impossible beauty surrounding us.

Then back at me.

A tired smile touched his face.

“You really know how to pick vacation spots.”

The group actually laughed.

Not much.

Just enough.

For a moment the tension broke.

For a moment everyone felt like themselves again.

I smiled too.

And as I looked around at the remaining faces, I found myself wishing the moment would last a little longer.

Forever would be ideal.

But I’d settle for longer.

The conservatory was beautiful.

That was a problem.

People always let their guard down around beautiful things.

Moonlight poured through the glass ceiling, silver light dancing across winding stone paths and flowers that bloomed in impossible colors. The entire room felt alive, peaceful, and safe.

Even the others seemed affected.

For the first time in hours, people relaxed.

only slightly, but it was enough.

Stefan wandered toward one side of the garden with Asuka and Fiona. Nat and Ilias had already resumed arguing about whether the plants were real, while Notes and Imi claimed a bench near a fountain. The tension that had followed us through the castle loosened its grip just enough for everyone to breathe again.

I remained near the center of the garden.

Watching.

Listening.

The moment felt familiar somehow.

Friends talking.

Friends laughing.

People simply existing together.

The way things should be.

The way they always should have remained.

A soft breeze drifted through the room. Flowers swayed gently beneath the moonlight, and for a moment the castle itself seemed to exhale.

Then I heard it.

A crack.

Tiny.

Almost inaudible.

I looked upward.

The glass ceiling had begun to change.

Moonlight bent strangely across its surface. Reflections warped and shifted as though the glass had become liquid.

The castle was helping again.

I slipped a hand into my pocket.

The mirror felt warm.

Warmer than ever.

Across the room, Fiona suddenly stopped speaking.

Asuka noticed immediately.

“What?”

Fiona pointed upward.

Everyone followed her gaze.

The ceiling was no longer reflecting moonlight.

It was reflecting a garden.

Not the one we stood in.

The other one.

The garden.

The one hidden inside the mirror.

Flowering trees stretched beneath an endless blue sky. Peaceful paths wound through sunlight. And scattered throughout the reflection were familiar faces.

Cailin.

John.

Innerverse.

Kasu.

Every missing friend.

Together.

The room fell silent.

Nobody moved.

Nobody seemed willing to breathe.

Stefan stared upward as the color slowly drained from his face.

“What...”

The word barely escaped him.

Then the castle answered.

The ceiling shattered.

Not outward, but inward.

The glass didn’t fall.

It flowed, like water, like liquid light.

Like a thousand mirrors breaking at once.

The reflection poured downward.

The garden erupted into chaos.

People shouted. Lanterns fell. Several tried to run before stopping in confusion as the liquid reflections spread across the floor, walls, and ceiling.

Mirrors appeared everywhere.

Dozens of them.

Then hundreds.

Every surface reflected the same impossible garden.

Every angle showed the same peaceful sky.

I remained where I was.

The mirror pulsed inside my pocket.

Nat grabbed Ilias without thinking.

Fiona moved toward Asuka.

Imi shouted something to Notes that vanished beneath the noise.

Stefan turned toward me.

He understood, not everything. But just enough.

His eyes widened.

The realization arrived all at once.

“Cory.”

My name sounded wounded.

Disappointed.

Heartbroken.

That hurt more than I expected.

I looked around at all of them.

At the remaining friends.

The remaining pieces.

The final fragments of the evening.

“I didn’t want it to happen this way.”

The words came quietly.

Honestly.

Because they were true.

The mirrors brightened.

The castle trembled.

The garden beyond the reflections grew clearer.

Closer.

Welcoming.

“I just wanted everyone to stay together.”

Nobody answered.

Not because they hadn’t heard me.

Because they had.

The mirrors opened.

And the castle began collecting the rest.

Silence followed.

Real silence.

Not the quiet of an empty room, but the silence that comes after something has ended.

The conservatory was gone.

Or perhaps I was.

The distinction felt increasingly unimportant.

The moonlit garden had vanished. The mirrors had vanished. The shouting had vanished.

Only the castle remained.

And Stefan.

For a long moment neither of us spoke. The corridor stretched endlessly behind him, dark, silent, and empty. For the first time all evening there were no other voices. No laughter. No arguments. No conversations.

Just us.

Stefan slowly looked around at the absence, the quiet, and the emptiness before finally turning back to me.

His expression wasn’t angry.

I almost wished it was.

Anger would’ve been easier.

Instead he looked heartbroken.

“Cory.”

The way he said my name made something tighten in my chest.

“What happened to them?”

The question lingered between us.

I considered lying.

Then immediately dismissed the thought.

There wasn’t much point anymore.

“They’re together.”

Stefan stared, waiting for me to continue.

“They’re safe.”

The sadness in his eyes deepened.

“Cory...”

“I mean it.”

For the first time all evening frustration slipped into my voice.

Not because he wasn’t listening.

Because he wasn’t understanding.

“They’re alive.” I gestured toward the castle around us. “They’re not lost. They’re not going to drift away.”

The words came faster now.

More desperate.

“Nobody is leaving.”

Stefan remained silent.

The silence felt unbearable.

Eventually he took a slow breath, then another, carefully choosing his words.

“Do you know what friendship is?”

The question caught me off guard.

“What?”

“Friendship.”

His voice remained calm.

Painfully calm.

“What do you think it is?”

I frowned.

The answer felt obvious.

“Being there for people.”

Stefan nodded.

“Partly.”

“Trust.”

Another nod.

“Loyalty.”

Again.

Then he looked directly into my eyes.

“And choice.”

The word landed strangely.

I didn’t like it.

“Choice?”

“Yes.”

His voice softened.

“Cory, people choose to stay.”

I immediately shook my head.

“No.”

“They do.”

“No they don’t.”

The answer came too quickly.

Too sharply.

Years of memories surfaced.

Conversations fading.

Friends disappearing.

Messages unanswered.

People meaning well and leaving anyway.

Life taking pieces.

Again.

And again.

And again.

“No.”

My voice was quieter now.

“They leave.”

Stefan watched me carefully.

“They move.”

“They leave.”

“They grow.”

“They leave.”

“They change.”

“They leave.”

The words echoed through the corridor.

Neither of us spoke afterward.

The truth sat between us.

My truth.

His truth.

Neither willing to move.

Finally Stefan sighed.

A sad sound.

An exhausted sound.

“Cory.”

The pity in his voice hurt.

I hated pity.

“You organized this entire thing because you care about people.”

I looked away.

He wasn’t wrong.

“You always check on people.”

Silence.

“You always notice when someone feels left out.”

More silence.

“You always make sure nobody is sitting alone.”

The memories surfaced effortlessly.

Because every word was true.

Then Stefan smiled sadly.

“The problem is that somewhere along the way...”

He looked around the empty castle.

“...you stopped seeing people as people.”

The words hit hard.

“You started seeing them as things that might leave.”

I opened my mouth.

Then closed it.

I wasn’t completely sure how to answer.

The mirror shifted inside my pocket.

I could feel them inside.

The way things should be.

Stefan noticed the movement. His eyes briefly dropped toward my pocket before returning to me.

A small smile touched his face.

A genuine one.

Not frightened.

Not angry.

Just sad.

“You know what’s funny?”

I said nothing.

“If you had asked...”

He laughed softly.

“...most of us would’ve stayed.”

The words struck somewhere deep.

Deeper than I wanted.

Stefan took a step forward.

Then another.

For a moment I thought he might try to take the mirror.

Instead he stopped beside me, close enough to stand shoulder to shoulder.

The way friends do.

The way we’d stood countless times before.

“I would’ve stayed.”

The confession barely rose above a whisper.

The castle suddenly felt very quiet.

“I know.”

My voice sounded smaller than before.

Stefan nodded.

Then smiled.

A tired smile.

A forgiving smile.

The kind that somehow made everything feel worse.

“I know you do.”

The mirror pulsed.

The castle trembled.

The choice stood before me.

I closed my eyes.

Then raised the mirror.

Stefan never moved.

Never ran.

Never fought.

For a moment I thought he might say something.

Instead he simply looked at me.

The sadness still there.

The understanding still there.

The friendship still there.

“Cory.”

One final time.

My name.

Spoken like a friend.

The mirror opened.

Light spilled outward.

The garden appeared.

Stefan vanished.

The castle fell silent.

Completely silent.

I stood alone for a long time.

Then I looked into the glass.

The garden stretched beneath a golden sky. Cailin sat beneath the flowering tree. John was talking with Notes while Nat argued with Ilias. Innerverse was in the middle of another story, animatedly waving her hands at Imi while Kasu laughed. Fiona and Asuka were cheerfully conversing alone.

Nobody looked frightened.

Nobody looked trapped.

They were together.

Exactly as they should be.

My eyes eventually found Stefan.

He stood near the others.

Watching, not smiling or angry, just watching.

I smiled.

Then sat beneath the nearest tree.

The conversations continued around me.

The laughter returned.

The world beyond the glass could do whatever it wanted.

Time could pass.

Years could pass.

Entire lifetimes could pass.

It didn’t matter.

Because nobody was leaving.

Not anymore.

That was long and took a little while. I hope you enjoyed!

They die in pieces.

A leaf that never greens again.

A stream that no longer flows.

A village swallowed by a creeping dark.

A mother forgetting the sound of laughter.

A star dimming beyond the skies.

The harvest grows thinner each season.

The forests stand silent and still.

Birds abandon forgotten skies.

Rivers shrink into scars upon the earth.

The winds carry only dust.

Great cities lose their voices.

Temples crumble without prayer.

Towers watch empty horizons.

Kings cling to fading crowns.

Heroes draw weary breaths.

Even memories begin to fray.

Names are spoken less each year.

Songs lose their final verses.

The light retreats from distant shores.

The sea forgets its reflection.

Mountains hollow from within.

The stars flicker one by one.

Hope becomes a fragile ember.

Faith becomes a whisper.

The whisper becomes silence.

Little by little.

Breath by breath.

Until all that remains is the Abyss—

devouring all of creation.

Devouring Abyss book one is out now! Thank you for reading. 😊

Free with Kindle Unlimited!

Dawn of the Unknown

I still see you. Man in the mirror. The boy I once was. The man I am now. The shackles and ties you've left upon me. Even now we push and pull almost like shadow and light.

Hello, boy—me. I know your struggle, I do. I was there with you. I watched you break down. I watched you crawl up. I witnessed your growth. I remember every part, too. You know me, too. Don't you?

Hello, man—me. I know you are doing well today. I am fortunate enough to know I'll grow into you. Right now everything hurts. I hate the medications, I hate the visits—why does everyone want to hurt me? What pushes me on, is you: Man—me.

Hello, boy—me. Yes, I am doing quite well. I wrote a book, actually. You know the many you wrote? Well I wrote one, too! It's published now. I even got my first review! Life has been going well. I'm even past 30, the cut-off we said we wouldn't live until. It's actually not so bad.

Hello, man—me. That is great to hear. Everyone is telling me I'll be a failure. I won't amount to anything. Some even said it would be better for everyone if I just died. I tried you know? Guess I wasn't very good at it. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here... Man—me.

Hello, boy—me. I'm sorry. I know it's hard. You have me to look forward to, though! Honest, it does get better. Sure, maybe a few times worse, but things do change! I even got a review on that book I published. You wouldn't believe it! Our effort isn't a waste.

Hello, man—me. That's great news. I'm happy there are things to look forward to. I'm being hooked back to the machines, so I'll need to continue this later. Thank you for looking out for me, Man—me.

Rest well.

Reflection

Something about the review I got on my book just really made me think of my past. People saying my disability would make challenges impossible. People once full of hope for me—disregarding my existence.

It's these little moments that really feel like big steps. It's almost like I can finally feel like the years of frustration, failure, and misery were worth it. No matter how many times I fell, I still always got back up.

Now the same people that disregarded me, say they believed in me all along and are proud of me never giving up while getting knocked down. It's hard to acknowledge any efforts when coming from people that once denounced me. So when it's coming from someone that knows nothing about me… It's something special.

Of course I have people in my life that are supportive—my biggest one being my fiancee. But, there is a sort of comfort in being acknowledged by someone you don't know.

Sometimes a stranger's words become proof that the younger version of you survived for a reason.

Once upon a time

There lived a boy oh so bright

He lit up the night

He brought smiles to friends

He showed love and affection

Loved and cherished

The boy full of cheer

Yet no one stayed to brighten

This boy's night

Fractured skies

Torn seas

Lost dreams

The boy stayed in fright

The dark seemed unrelenting

Still the boy chose to spread light

Smiles all around

Turning frowns upside-down

The boy held a small light

The light to brighten his night

Off went the light

The boy cried and cried

Yet no one came.

I've never really been a poet, yet something about seeing little 12 year old me writing this—really hit something inside of me.

This also made me really wish I had access to my old journals. In my poetry class back then, I hardly even wrote poetry. I wrote long-form stories which the teacher was happy enough to have.

I even remember writing a story called ‘Evil Kanevil.’ The teacher asked me to pursue writing after reading the pages I wrote every class session. To me it was just a fun pass time for class.

Now I wish I could read it, too.

This was a bit random, but it was a fun share.

Not because it was beautiful.

Beautiful things were everywhere.

Because it made him pause.

For most of the evening, he had endured the usual rituals of noble society. Daughters were introduced. Mothers assessed him from a distance. Young lords attempted to impress one another with stories that grew less believable each time they were told.

Adrian played his role well.

As he always had.

His ruby eyes held attention without effort. His reputation opened doors before he reached them. Women found him mysterious. Men found him respectable. The combination had served him well for a very long time.

Which was why Eleanor Ashcroft stood out.

She was surrounded by admirers when he first noticed her.

The sight itself wasn't remarkable. Any gathering large enough inevitably developed its center of gravity, and tonight that gravity appeared to be Lady Ashcroft.

A young lord discussed hunting.

Another discussed politics.

A third attempted poetry.

Eleanor listened to each with perfect courtesy.

Yet every so often, between smiles and polite responses, Adrian caught glimpses of something else.

A woman patiently enduring boredom.

The first thing he learned about Eleanor Ashcroft was that she hid irritation exceptionally well.

The second came later that evening on a terrace overlooking the manor gardens. He had found her alone.

Their conversation began with military history and ended with an argument about whether historians were scholars or professional liars.

Eleanor maintained that most historical accounts were unreliable.

"They're written by survivors."

"Who else would write them?" Adrian asked.

"The dead would probably have a very different perspective."

Adrian laughed.

A genuine laugh.

The sound surprised them both.

By the end of the evening, he knew very little about her.

She knew very little about him.

Yet he found himself remembering parts of the conversation long after it ended.

That was unusual.

Over the following weeks, they encountered one another repeatedly.

A midsummer feast.

A hunting party neither particularly enjoyed.

A royal celebration in the capital.

A banquet honoring a visiting noble delegation.

The meetings were neither frequent nor private. Noble society simply wasn't arranged that way. Every conversation existed beneath watchful eyes. Every interaction carried expectations.

Yet somehow they always found time.

Not much.

Twenty minutes here.

Half an hour there.

An afternoon discussion during a festival while musicians played nearby.

Adrian learned that Eleanor loved old histories but distrusted historians.

She adored stories involving mystery and intrigue, regardless of quality.

She hated pears with remarkable passion.

She believed most noblemen spent too much time trying to sound intelligent and too little time becoming so.

Eleanor learned that Adrian possessed an unusual amount of historical knowledge.

That he rarely spoke about himself.

That his sense of humor appeared only when he was genuinely interested in a conversation.

Most importantly, she learned that he listened.

In noble circles, that alone made him extraordinary.

The attraction arrived gradually.

Not in a dramatic moment.

Not during a dance.

Not evwn beneath moonlight.

It arrived through anticipation.

Adrian found himself wondering whether Eleanor would attend upcoming gatherings.

Eleanor found herself searching crowded rooms for ruby eyes.

Neither fought it.

The truth existed comfortably without words.

The first time they kissed, rain drummed softly against the roof of a hunting lodge.

Several noble families had gathered for the occasion, though a storm had ended the day's activities early.

Most guests remained inside drinking wine and discussing weather.

Adrian and Eleanor stood beneath a covered walkway overlooking the rain-soaked grounds.

Their conversation had long since drifted away from hunting.

A silence settled between them.

Not uncomfortable or awkward.

Merely different.

When Eleanor looked up, Adrian met her halfway.

The kiss was brief.

Gentle.

Entirely human.

Which was unfortunate, because Adrian was not.

The scent of her blood filled his senses immediately.

His control barely held.

Afterward, Eleanor smiled.

Adrian returned the gesture.

Yet since first meeting her, caution entered his thoughts.

He had spent centuries feeding from women.

He had spent centuries charming them.

The two activities generally remained separate.

Eleanor complicated things.

That was dangerous.

The following weeks only made matters worse.

The more time they spent together, the more Adrian enjoyed it.

The more he enjoyed it, the more he wanted her company.

And the more he wanted her company, the harder it became to ignore his hunger.

Desire offered an unexpected solution.

Whenever the thirst sharpened, Adrian sought closeness instead.

A walk through palace gardens.

A private conversation during a feast.

A stolen kiss hidden from watchful eyes.

The hunger never vanished.

It simply waited.

Then came the first bite.

It happened after a banquet celebrating a military victory.

The details scarcely mattered afterward.

Only the result.

One moment Eleanor stood beside him in a quiet corridor.

The next, Adrian's lips brushed her neck.

There was a brief sting.

Then warmth.

Pleasant, comforting warmth.

A sensation that spread through her body like liquid sunlight.

When it ended, she felt strangely peaceful.

The experience lingered long after the small marks faded.

She never asked many questions.

Neither did Adrian.

Some things seemed easier left unexplained.

The bites became part of their relationship.

Rare and private.

Never discussed directly.

Eleanor interpreted them as affection.

An unusual expression of desire from an unusual man.

Adrian allowed her to believe it.

The truth was better left unsaid.

At first, the venom's effects seemed harmless.

Eleanor felt happier around him.

Calmer.

Warmer.

More content.

Who would question such things while falling in love?

The problem was that vampire venom did not care about love.

It cared about dependency.

Weeks passed.

The changes emerged slowly.

Eleanor thought about Adrian constantly.

She touched the fading marks on her neck when lost in thought.

She looked forward to seeing him with increasing intensity.

When several days passed without meeting, she felt restless.

None of it seemed alarming.

To her, these were symptoms of affection.

To Adrian, they were symptoms of something else entirely.

He recognized the signs immediately.

That knowledge should have ended the relationship.

Instead, he continued.

Not because he lacked discipline.

Quite the opposite, Adrian knew exactly what he was doing, and that was the problem.

He convinced himself the situation remained under control.

A little venom.

A little blood.

A little indulgence.

Nothing more.

By the second month, Eleanor's family noticed changes.

She tired more easily.

Dark circles appeared beneath her eyes.

Meals went unfinished.

Concern spread through the household.

Physicians examined her.

Priests offered prayers.

No explanation emerged.

Eleanor dismissed the concern.

Adrian could not.

Each symptom felt like an accusation.

Not enough to make him leave.

Just enough to make him uncomfortable.

There was a difference.

One evening, Eleanor arrived at a harvest feast looking visibly exhausted.

The sight unsettled him.

She smiled anyway.

"You look dreadful," Adrian said.

"How charming."

"You should rest."

"So says the man who never appears tired."

A fair observation.

One of many she wasn't supposed to notice.

Eleanor laughed softly.

The sound remained familiar.

Yet it seemed weaker than before.

Adrian disliked that.

He disliked many things about the situation.

Strangely, ending it was never among them.

The realization told him everything he needed to know.

He cared for her.

Not uniquely or eternally.

Simply genuinely.

This distinction mattered to him.

Centuries of life had taught him that love was neither rare nor permanent.

He had loved before.

Different women.

Different centuries.

Different versions of himself.

Each experience felt singular while it lasted.

Each eventually ended.

Mortals died.

Time moved forward and life continued.

That was simply the nature of things.

Yet knowing a flower would wilt never prevented someone from admiring it.

The final evening arrived quietly.

Eleanor sat beside him near a fire, wrapped in a blanket despite the warmth of the room.

The sight troubled him more than he cared to admit.

She had become noticeably thinner.

More fragile.

The season had taken its toll.

Perhaps he had as well.

For a while they sat together in comfortable silence.

Eventually Eleanor rested her head against his shoulder.

"I think you're avoiding something."

Adrian smiled faintly.

"A dangerous accusation."

"It's true."

"Perhaps."

She tilted her head slightly.

The gesture had become familiar between them.

Unconsciously trusting.

An invitation she no longer realized she was offering.

Adrian stared into the fire.

The hunger stirred.

Eleanor closed her eyes.

"I missed you this week."

The words settled heavily between them.

Adrian looked at her.

For a moment he saw everything at once.

The woman from the ballroom.

The debates about history.

The terrible mystery stories.

The laughter.

The smiles.

The marks.

The months.

Then the hunger rose.

The bite felt no different than any other.

That may have been the cruelty of it.

The beginning remained familiar.

The warmth.

The sweetness.

The relief.

One heartbeat became two.

Two became three.

Then silence.

The realization arrived before acceptance.

He knew what had happened immediately.

Eleanor's pulse was gone.

Adrian pulled back.

She remained motionless against him.

Peaceful and still.

The room seemed strangely unchanged.

The fire continued burning.

Shadows continued dancing across the walls.

Outside, the night carried on exactly as before.

Only Eleanor had stopped.

Hours passed.

Adrian remained where he was.

He had experienced grief often enough to recognize it.

This was not devastation, madness, nor the end of the world.

Merely another wound.

A familiar one.

Still painful despite familiarity.

As dawn approached, he brushed a loose strand of hair from Eleanor's face.

The gesture felt absurdly tender.

His gaze drifted to the small marks along her neck.

Marks she had welcomed.

Marks she had mistaken for affection.

Marks he had allowed her to misunderstand.

For a long while, he sat in silence.

Remembering.

Not the kisses or the bites.

The conversations and the arguments.

The laugh she tried to suppress whenever she found something genuinely amusing.

The way she challenged historians as though they were personal enemies.

The certainty with which she dismissed pears as a fruit unworthy of existence.

Small things.

Human things.

The things that lingered.

Eventually Adrian smiled.

A genuine smile.

Sad, but genuine.

Then he stood.

Outside, dawn approached and the world continued moving.

Before leaving, Adrian looked at Eleanor one final time.

It would have been easier if she had been forgettable.

The thought lingered briefly.

Then he turned away.

Behind him remained a woman who had believed herself deeply adored.

Perhaps she had been.

For a season.

And for creatures like Adrian Valmont, seasons were all love had ever truly been.

It was extremely hard for me to short form this. I'm not super great at short stories. 😭 The original I spent too much time showing their characters for investment and tragedy, but realized that would have been way too long.

The full story ended up the length of a short novel. That's why it took so long. 😅

That version became an OnlyFans cat boy.

I know this because I recently received photographic evidence.

The transition was gradual.

It started innocently enough.

One day Cat Me bought a pair of cat ears as a joke.

Then he bought a collar.

Then he told himself he was wearing the collar ironically.

The collapse accelerated from there.

Within six months he was referring to his apartment as “the den.”

Within a year he had a social media manager.

By year two he was earning more money than everyone else in the family.

I imagine family reunions became difficult.

“So, Cory, what do you do these days?”

“I work in a factory.”

“That’s nice.”

“And you?”

The alternate version of me would slowly adjust his cat ears.

“I made three thousand dollars last Tuesday meowing at a camera.”

Silence.

A distant dog barking.

Some bickering from next door.

Internally questioning every decision that led to this moment.

The truly upsetting part is that Cat Me appears to be thriving.

He wakes up at noon.

He drinks expensive coffee.

He owns a gaming setup worth more than my house.

His biggest daily concern is whether his audience prefers silver bells or gold bells on the collar.

Meanwhile, I’m over here researching career paths and trying to be a productive member of society.

Cat Me somehow skipped all that.

I feel him looking through the multiverse at me.

Shaking his head.

Disappointed.

“You worked hard for years?”

“Yes.”

“You studied?”

“Yes.”

“You live paycheck to paycheck?”

“Unfortunately.”

He sighs.

Then closes the dimensional portal.

Because some versions of ourselves simply can’t be helped.

And somewhere out there, in a timeline I desperately hope remains isolated from our own, Cat Me is probably buying a second house.

My fiancée made this photo of me through AI. For some reason, it got me thinking about choices and how differently life can play out.

Funny enough, in some reality, maybe that’s true. Maybe there’s a version of me making a living meowing at a camera. Maybe there’s a version that’s a doctor, an engineer, a politician, or something else entirely.

Different versions of me. Some thriving. Some struggling. Some kind. Some bitter. Some probably gone.

In my own life, I can only move forward with the information I have and what I believe is right. Every choice, no matter how small, closes one path and opens another.

Cat Me, Doctor Me, Engineer Me, Politician Me. I’d like to believe they’re all out there somewhere, living the lives they chose.

The version of me that’s here now is writing this, working a regular job, trying to build a future, and doing the best he can.

While I’m proud of the other versions, I think they’d be proud of me too.

There’s no reason to look down on Cat Me. He seems happy. Maybe he likes the collar.

Every step I take into the future brings me a little closer to the end, so I might as well make the most of the time I have left—even if that simply means existing.

The End.

Thank you for your time! Cat Me seems to love whatever it is he's doing.

Vocals - Mine and then it transitions to AI

Lyrics - Me.

Audio - Suno.

I wrote this right after my last post. Just reading it made me want to write something more.

I reflected the song specifically off of what I wrote in the post so there's no mention of our lives outside of it.

We were kids behind a screen

Trading pieces of our lives

I would talk until the morning

You would listen every night

I told you all my broken parts

The things I couldn't carry alone

You always seemed to have the answers

You always sounded like home

Now I trace the years behind me

Looking for the things I missed

Every silence feels much louder

Every memory still exists

If I had listened a little longer

If I had asked a little more

Would I still hear your voice beside me

Like I did before

I know the past won't change for wishing

And I know time won't turn around

But sometimes when the world is quiet

I still hear that sound

You spoke of people we once knew

Little moments from our days

I didn't know you were collecting

All the things you'd give away

I thought we'd have another weekend

Another game and another call

I didn't know goodbye was hiding

Inside it all

Now I carry questions with me

Like scars in my skin

Searching every conversation

For where I should have been

If I had listened a little longer

If I had asked a little more

Would I still hear your voice beside me

Like I did before

I know the past won't change for wishing

And I know time won't turn around

But sometimes when the world is quiet

I still hear that sound

Your family said I made you smile

But somehow that still breaks me

Because I never knew the battles

You were fighting secretly

And all these years I've held the weight

Of things I'll never know

Learning some wounds stay with us

No matter where we go

So I hold the ones I love closer

And I say the things I mean

Because tomorrow isn't promised

No matter how it seems

And if somehow you can hear me

Past the years and all the pain

I love you, my friend

I still do

And I always will remain

Remembering you.

When the world grows quiet

And the night comes through

Part of me

Still talks to you

Thank You.