T. he last bell of the day rang, echoing across the courtyard like a cracked whisper. Students burst from the doors, laughing, shouting, tossing backpacks and sports gear over their shoulders as they scattered toward the bus stop and sidewalk.
Ari and Mika didn't join the rush.
They walked along the outer field behind the school, where the tall golden grass swayed in late-afternoon wind. Mika liked this path—it passed the old, worn-down greenhouse, perfect for sketching. Ari liked it because it was quiet, an easy break from the constant noise inside the school walls.
But today the field felt different.
Ari stopped walking so abruptly Mika bumped into his back.
"Hey—why'd you stop?" she asked, adjusting her sketchbook against her chest.
Ari didn't answer immediately.
He closed his eyes, breathing in slowly.
Something was wrong with the air.
It felt thick, like walking through a heavy curtain.
Not hot. Not cold. Just dense. Pressurized. Even the wind didn't move naturally; it carried a faint hum, like the world itself was vibrating at a strange frequency.
"You feel that, right?" Ari finally said.
Mika hesitated… then nodded.
"Yeah. It feels… weird. Like when Kael gets serious."
Ari flinched. "Yeah. That."
After the tricycle incident—the monster that appeared from nowhere—Ari had tried to pretend he misremembered it, that the creature was just a hallucination caused by fear or adrenaline. Maybe he'd imagined the way Kael had moved with unnatural precision, or how the air bent around him.
But now, that same pressure tugged at Ari's ribs. Soft, but real.
He scanned the field.
The sky glowed an eerie shade of orange—sunset, but overly vivid, almost sickly. Shadows stretched too long. The silence around them was heavy, unnatural.
"Let's get home before—"
A rustling sound cut him off.
Not from the wind.
Something moving.
Ari turned toward the noise.
Near the center of the field, the grass dipped and parted. Thin strands shifted and broke apart as something tall rose from below. A shape—narrow, stretched, wrong.
At first Ari's mind tried to fit it into something normal.
A scarecrow.
A lost piece of farm equipment.
Something human-shaped but harmless.
Then it moved.
And his stomach dropped.
Mika took a step back, grabbing Ari's arm so tightly her nails dug into his sleeve.
The thing looked human only in silhouette. Its limbs were too long, too thin. Its shoulders slumped at awkward angles, and its head twitched like it was listening to something only it could hear. And its face—
There was no face.
Just smooth, pale skin where eyes, mouth, and nose should've been.
Mika's breath hitched.
"Ari…"
"I know," Ari whispered, pulling her behind him. "Stay behind me. Slow steps."
They backed away, but the creature took a step toward them, tilting its head as if sniffing for something.
The pressure in the air thickened. Ari's heartbeat thudded loudly in his ears.
Then—
Another rustle.
Behind them.
Ari spun around.
A second creature rose.
Then a third.
Surrounding them in a crooked triangle.
Mika's voice cracked.
"Ari, we're trapped."
He grabbed her hand, squeezing hard.
His legs trembled, but he forced himself to stand still. Running blindly would only get Mika hurt.
He searched frantically for someone—anyone—who might still be nearby. But the other kids were long gone. The teachers were indoors. The field was an ocean of tall grass with no safety in sight.
One creature stepped forward, limbs bending like broken sticks. Ari pulled Mika closer, planting his feet.
No matter what happened—
he wouldn't let anything touch her.
But the pressure in the air suddenly surged.
Ari gasped.
The vibration he felt earlier rushed through him—up his legs, across his spine, into his arms. Almost like electricity without the pain.
The creatures froze mid-step.
Mika blinked.
"What… did you do?"
"I—I didn't do anything."
But something had changed.
The air rippled. The grass leaned backward in a circular wave. A shadow swept across the field, fast enough to make Ari stumble.
A low hum vibrated through the ground.
And then—
Kael landed in front of them.
He didn't leap—he simply arrived, like the space between where he had been and where he stood now had folded in on itself. He didn't even look winded.
His coat fluttered from the displaced air.
His gaze fixed on the faceless creatures with calm, lethal focus.
"Stay behind me," Kael said, voice quiet but sharp enough to cut through the fear.
Ari had never heard him sound like that.
No warmth.
No gentleness.
Only cold readiness—like someone slipping back into a role he'd tried to leave behind.
The creatures stiffened at the sight of him.
Their featureless faces turned toward him in a single, unnatural motion.
Kael lifted one hand.
Thin glowing threads—like strands of light—spun around his fingers, weaving themselves into a sigil. Ari recognized it. He'd seen something similar burn on Kael's arm that day in the street, just before the creature vanished.
The air trembled.
The faceless monsters lunged.
But Kael was already gone.
A crack—like a distant thunderclap—burst across the field.
The grass swayed violently outward. When Ari blinked, Kael stood several yards away, positioned between the fallen creatures. They hadn't shattered, bled, or even split—they simply collapsed, overwhelmed by force Ari couldn't see or comprehend.
Kael exhaled slowly, shoulders relaxing. He turned back to the kids.
Ari felt Mika trembling behind him. He squeezed her hand again, and she squeezed back.
Kael approached them calmly—but Ari noticed something new.
For the first time since Kael joined their family…
he looked tired.
Not physically but emotionally, like he'd hoped this day would never come.
Ari swallowed.
"What were those things?"
Kael knelt down to their level.
"They're called Echoes," he said softly. "Shadows from another place. Leftovers from rifts that open between our world and… something beyond."
Mika's voice was barely audible.
"But why are they here?"
Kael's jaw tightened—not in anger, but worry.
"They shouldn't be. That's the problem."
The wind stirred the grass again.
This time, the air felt lighter—like a storm passing.
Kael cupped Mika's cheek gently.
"You both did well staying together. I'm proud of you."
Mika blinked quickly, trying not to cry.
Ari didn't miss the way Kael's hand lingered, reassuring and soft—completely different from the way he'd fought seconds ago.
Ari stepped forward.
"Kael… earlier, before you came… I felt something. Like the air… moved through me."
Kael paused.
For a full second, he said nothing.
Then he placed a firm hand on Ari's shoulder.
"That's what I was afraid of."
Ari's breath caught.
"Afraid… of what?"
Kael looked out over the empty field, as if searching for something just beyond the horizon.
"When a rift grows strong enough," he said quietly, "it pulls on the world around it. People who are close to the source—physically or emotionally—can sense that pressure."
Ari frowned.
"Meaning… us?"
Kael nodded slowly.
"You're my family now. And the world I came from… it doesn't stay away from the people I care about."
His voice cracked on the last words—not much, but enough for Ari to hear the weight behind them.
Kael stood.
"We're going home. Stay close."
They began walking through the tall grass. Mika kept Kael's sleeve gripped in her fingers. Ari walked on Kael's other side, stealing glances at their stepfather.
Kael wasn't shaken by the fight.
He was shaken by something else.
By what it meant.
Ari finally asked, "Will more of those things come here?"
Kael didn't sugarcoat it.
"Most likely."
Mika's grip tightened.
"But you'll stop them, right?"
Kael hesitated.
Then smiled softly—tired, gentle, but still strong.
"I'll stop everything that comes near you. That's a promise."
But Ari heard the unspoken part.
But I don't know why they're coming in the first place.
And that scares me more than the monsters.
As they reached the edge of the field, Ari looked back.
The grass swayed gently, hiding the strange creatures' collapsed forms. The sky had shifted from sickly orange to a calm violet.
Everything looked normal again.
But Ari knew better.
Mika whispered, "Ari… Kael looked scared for a second."
"I know."
"What do you think it means?"
Ari held his breath, then exhaled sharply.
"It means the world isn't as normal as we thought."
Kael glanced over his shoulder at them, offering a reassuring, fatherly smile.
But his eyes betrayed a truth Ari would learn soon enough:
This was only the beginning.