Under the sterile, white bed sheets lay a young child, barely nine years old. His cute face was bound to attract the attention of many, while his puffy cheeks were a tinge of crimson.
His breathing was rhythmic and shallow, Two factors that indicated he was asleep. However, in reality, the boy was feigning such patterns to fool a certain entity outside his window.
The night was stormy, and rain poured endlessly atop the fertile ground of the Garcia Estate. The sounds of thunder and the terrifying glow of lightning were the boy’s enemy, as they prevented the sound inside his bedroom from reaching other rooms.
Within the pouring rain, atop the boy’s window, sat a shadow, rocking back and forth as it observed the boy. .𝓬ℴ𝓶
The boy, of course, was Jake Garcia.
His eyelids and mouth were shut, and his teeth were clenched. Still, he forcefully regulated his breathing to mask the fact that he was awake. Traumatized by the outline of the shadow he saw from the corner of his eye a few minutes ago, Jake couldn’t fathom viewing it again.
He wished it was a fleeting dream that would soon fade, releasing him from his misery. But the creaking of the windowsill as pressure was put upon it kept him awake. Jake bit his lips, drawing blood.
A few minutes passed in silence.
The shadowed figure kept sitting on the windowsill, and Jake smelled the scent of smoke. The latter assumed the former was smoking a cigarette. The creaking sound soon became intense, as if the shadowed figure wished for Jake to awaken.
But the dirty-blonde-haired boy was adamant.
Within the depths of the moonlight, the shadowed figure stood. The creaking sound intensified before fading. Then, the sounds of his footsteps reverberated and echoing across Jake’s bedroom remained.
Jake grew more and more fearful as time passed. Eventually, he curled his toes before shifting in his sleep. At that moment, the bed creaked, and a terrorizing laugh resounded across Jake’s bedroom.
“You were awake?” The shadowed figure asked, chuckling. Then, black fangs emerged from his mouth, and blood spilled on the ground. The soft sounds of the spilling of blood caused Jake to gasp.
Suddenly, two claws grasped his bedsheets.
With bloodshot eyes, Jake attempted to squirm, but the claws wrapped the bedsheets around his body, holding him in place. The shadowed figure lifted Jake, who was wrapped in his bedsheets, using his claws.
Jake screamed as the claws dug into his skin, drawing tons of blood.
“Hunting in Arcadia… the best feeling.”
Jake continued to scream, but his door remained closed. It was like the shadowed figure had cast a spell to block all sounds from entering or exiting the isolated space… Jake’s room. The dirty-blonde-haired boy, at this point, lost hope of survival.
His body went limp.
“Resist,” ordered the shadowed figure, strengthening his grip. A searing pain traveled across Jake’s body, and his pain receptors and brain protested. At that point, it wouldn’t be long before the boy died of excessive blood loss. “Resist!”
Suddenly, Jake’s vision blurred, and his body collided with the ground beneath. The wooden floor shook, and a soft sound emerged from beneath.
Jake lay on the floor, helpless.
Shatter!
As the shadowed figure approached the powerless boy, the door to Jake’s room shot open, and the wood shattered. A streak of light rushed past the entrance, and the shadowed figure sidestepped to evade the streak.
“Dad!” Jake squealed as he jumped into his father’s–also known as Kyle Garcia–arms.
Kyle, with narrowed eyes, glared at the shadowed figure. “Jim Destiny… from the Millers, correct?”
“Keep guessing,” replied Jim. At that moment, the shadows lightened, and it was like the world swallowed the shadowed figure. Slow, the particles of darkness faded into sunlight, and dawn approached.
Kyle wrapped Jake in his arms, the latter sobbed uncontrollably.
*
Once Jake was healed, he thanked Arthur several times. He insisted he owed the crimson-eyed man his life, which Arthur gladly accepted. Now that Jake was indebted to him, involving the Garcias in the conflict would be easier.
But there was one matter Arthur was concerned about.
Leaving the hospital, he headed towards the estate of the Ainsworths. It took a few minutes to reach the gates of the estate. A guard greeted him politely before checking him in.
The estate was massive, and spanned over tens of thousands of square footage. From the main building to gardens, sheds, training rooms and bedrooms, it was safe to say that it contained everything one needed to live a lavish life.
Other than that, the main building was decorated with marble and jewels, while the gardens were maintained to their apex. They bloomed flowers Arthur had never seen before, and exuded pleasant scents.
Walking along the brick pathway towards the entrance of the main building, Arthur was greeted by a man dressed in a stark black suit and sunglasses.
In his hand was a card.
“Mr. Solace,” said the man. “It’s best if you have access to the estate, instead of summoning me every time you need to enter. Frankly, I’m tired.”
The man was the personal butler of Gregorio Dune, Xavier. As a former warrior, his skills in battle were already undeniable. Moreover, his skills in service topped his skills in combat, providing him with both a diverse and impressive portfolio.
“You’re trusting me with this?” Arthur asked, snatching the card from Xavier’s hands.
“You can’t do anything, even if you manage to sneak in,” said Xavier in a playful tone. “Frankly, you’re too weak.”
Arthur snorted before following the butler inside the estate. They walked across the fine carpets and shimmering artifacts, towards Gregorio’s personal office. Within a few minutes, they had arrived.
Xavier walked forward before knocking on the door, which was lined with embroidery. Soon, he pushed the door in and walked forward.
He then motioned for Arthur to walk forward. The crimson-eyed man walked in before getting straight to the point.
“The Millers are involved with Jim.”
A chuckling sound resounded across the room, and Arthur’s eyes widened. In front of Gregorio sat Kevin Miller…
The leader of the Millers.
