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Chapter Text

Seven devils all around me

Seven devils in my house

See, they were there when I woke up this morning

And I'll be dead before the day is done

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Josh woke up dazed.

He got out of bed, dizzy and confused.

He'd had another strange dream, and like always, he only remembered vague things: a pulsating heart, heat, amber eyes, and the color purple.

He quickly hopped out of bed in one jump and turned off the alarm clock right when it went off, then gave a little smirk.

In a hurry, Josh rummaged through his room for the same black jeans from the last few days, grabbed an old rock t-shirt and sniffed it to see if it was still wearable.

He slipped on his sneakers and stood in front of the mirror, the necklace he had been given suddenly glowed, and Josh caught a brief glimpse of something strange.

For a second, he thought he saw his eyes glow an intense, sinister red.

He brushed it off, tucked the necklace inside his t-shirt and felt it warm against his skin.

Josh bolted for the stairs and slid down the banister.

Ryan was down there listening to Metallica on his headphones, Josh knew because it was so loud it was leaking.

Josh snuck up behind Ryan and swiped his toast and a sip of his orange juice.

"Hey!" Ryan said.

Josh walked off laughing.

"See ya, dumbass!"

He grabbed his bike and headed to work.

The day was muggy, and the shop's fan made more noise than wind.

The display window rattled from the bass coming from the old record player Josh kept running when the manager wasn't around. Iron Maiden spun on a worn-out vinyl, crackling between tracks.

The smell of dust and old record sleeves was almost a comfort to him. It was one of the few places where Josh could breathe without having to be someone else.

He loved that job, even if the pay barely covered rent and a few sodas. The shop owner, a grumpy old man named Marty, was always saying,

"Nobody buys real music anymore."

Josh knew that was a lie.

People did buy it, just not from him.

Everyone looked at him like he was some demonic apparition straight off an Ozzy poster.

The long hair, the weird pendant necklace, the shy demeanor, and the distant gaze just made things worse.

He'd overheard whispers like, "That kid probably does rituals with those records," or "Look at the face of someone who listens to the devil's music."

And yet, Josh kept at it.

Every day, cleaning the shelves, arranging records in alphabetical order, daydreaming about the day he'd save up enough for a decent drum set.

He was distracted, leaning on the counter doodling in his notebook when the doorbell chimed.

*Cling!*

Josh glanced over and saw a man in a suit walking in, tight tie, shiny shoes, leather briefcase in hand. He automatically thought: "This guy's got money, no way he's buying from me."

He went back to fiddling with the record sleeves, pretending not to see.

But when he looked up again, the man was right there, across the counter.

Josh jumped and almost knocked over the cold coffee he was drinking.

"Mr. Dun?" the man said, his voice formal and cold.

"Yeah... that's me."

The man opened his briefcase, pulled out some papers, and cleared his throat. "I'm sorry to inform you, but... your great-aunt, Agnes Moonwell, passed away last night."

For a moment, the sound of the music seemed to vanish. Josh blinked, trying to process if he'd heard right.

That woman... it had been years since he'd seen her, but she always sent weird things by mail: amulets, stones, envelopes that smelled like herbs. He never threw any of it away.

"Aunt Agnes…" he murmured, the name sounding heavy, distant.

A brief memory flashed: her smiling, handing a necklace into his hands when he was a child. "To protect you, dear. Keep it close to your heart."

He felt the warmth of the necklace under his t-shirt, the same as this morning.

For a second, it seemed even hotter.

"She... she lived in HollowCreek, right?" Josh asked, his voice a bit shaky.

The man nodded, pulling out more papers. "She left... assets and a house in your name. You'll need to go there to sort out the paperwork."

Josh didn't even know what to say.

Part of him wanted to laugh. Him, an heir to something? The kid who couldn't even sell an AC/DC vinyl?

But the other part... the part that still felt the necklace burning…

He knew it wasn't just an inheritance.

He knew Agnes Moonwell's death was the start of something he couldn't quite grasp yet.

And when the man left, leaving silence and the sound of the music resuming in the background, Josh stood still, looking at the shop's display window, the reflection of his own face, the messy hair, the distant gaze.

Outside, the sky began to change color.

A soft, almost supernatural purple hue tinged the clouds.

Josh was so distracted he barely noticed Marty approaching him.

"You can head home, kid," he said in his rough, tired voice.

Josh looked up, surprised. "But my shift's not over yet-"

"I heard what the guy said. And, look, I'm not a monster." Marty scratched his bald head, avoiding eye contact. "Your aunt left you a house, right? Go check it out. Take a few days. But just a few, hear me? This place won't clean itself."

Josh opened his mouth to thank him, but Marty was already pretending to be busy, shuffling through some yellowed invoices.

He grabbed his worn-out backpack, looked around one last time, the stacked records, the slightly faded posters, the sound of the crackling vinyl and then left.

The afternoon sun beat down hard, making the asphalt gleam.

Josh pedaled back home with the hot wind hitting his face. Each pedal stroke felt heavier than the last, as if the necklace was pulling him somewhere.

Ryan was sprawled on the couch, joystick for the Atari in one hand and eating dry cereal with the other.

Josh walked in, tossed his backpack on the floor, and stood for a while watching his friend try to beat Pitfall.

"Dude, you look like crap," Ryan said, not taking his eyes off the TV. "Did Marty finally fire you?"

"Worse," Josh replied, plopping down on the couch beside him. "I got a visit from a lawyer."

Ryan paused the game, furrowing his brow. "A lawyer? What'd you do?"

Josh sighed. "My great-aunt died."

"Ah, shit… the one with the crazy letters?"

"The very same."

Ryan put the joystick down. "And what did the lawyer want with you?"

"She left me a house. Out in HollowCreek."

Ryan blinked, confused. "A house? For you?"

"Yeah. Surreal, right?"

Ryan let out a nervous chuckle. "You're pulling my leg, right? This sounds like the start of a horror movie, man."

Josh shrugged. "If it is, I hope it has a happy ending. I'm heading out there tomorrow."

"Seriously, man, you're actually going all the way out there? The lady died and left a house in the middle of nowhere."

"Yep. And the guy said I need to sort out some papers. Maybe I can sell it quick and pay the bills."

Ryan put the cereal box aside and looked at him. "You're going alone?"

"Who else would go with me? And I don't have money for a bus ticket to Cincinnati, let alone to another state."

Ryan scratched his head, thoughtful.

"There's that Greyhound from the station that goes out there. Takes forever, but it's cheap."

Josh nodded, somewhat distracted.

"Or…" Ryan grinned a little. "You could borrow Lola."

Josh raised an eyebrow. "Lola?"

"My old bike. You think I'd lend you the new one? No way! But Lola still runs… when she feels like it."

Josh laughed, a bit awkwardly. "If I die on the way, at least they'll find my body looking stylish."

"That's the spirit, gothic heir."

"Thanks, Ryan, but I'll pass." Ryan pouted. "Either way, I still have some cash saved up. It should be enough to get there and stay a few days until I can get some money."

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Josh spent the rest of the night throwing some clothes into a bag: two pairs of jeans, some t-shirts, his favorite hoodie, his notebook, and a pack of crackers.

Nothing special, but enough.

And it's not like he had that much stuff anyway, he thought to himself.

He took the necklace and stared at it, the striking blood-red color played on his fingers.

He couldn't take it off, even if he wanted to.

As he zipped up the bag, the metallic sound echoed through the empty room.

Tomorrow he'd hit the road.

And, somehow, Hollowcreek already seemed to be calling his name.

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The bus rattled down the road.

The highway lights flickered unevenly past the windows, slicing the darkness into pieces.

Josh rested his head against the glass and closed his eyes. The constant drone of the engine and the gentle rocking eventually pulled him into sleep.

In the dream, time didn't exist.

First, a blue tone. A deep, endless, almost liquid blue. He felt like he was sinking.

Then, yellow, warm, pulsating, vibrating like a breathing sun.

And then, red. Vivid red, burning, spreading like fire.

The colors swirled together, dancing, writhing, until they began to morph into symbols, runes, glowing lines suspended in the air.

Josh tried to reach out his hand, but realized it was hurt, cut, the blood floating as if it were part of it all.

The runes spun around him, forming a circle.

And that's when he heard it.

A soft, distant, familiar voice.

"It's you, Joshua. It's always been you."

The sound echoed until everything dissolved.

Josh's eyes snapped open. His heart was racing, the necklace was burning against his chest.

It took him a few seconds to figure out where he was.

The morning sun streamed through the bus window, and the world outside was completely different.

Between the dense trees and open fields, he saw the surface of Lake Wallenpaupack.

Vast, shining like liquid glass under the gray sky.

A light mist danced on the water.

Josh pressed his forehead against the cool glass, trying to calm down. The driver slowed down, and he spotted the sign indicating Hollowcreek wasn't far.

A few minutes later, the bus stopped in front of a small station of faded bricks.

The fresh air hit him as he stepped off, it smelled of pine, wet earth, and flowers.

The town seemed frozen in time. Old houses with flower-filled porches, a white church in the distance, and in the center, a town square bursting with color, with iron benches and planters overflowing with daisies.

Josh sat on a bench, taking it all in. The rustle of leaves and the distant song of a bird broke the absolute silence.

He took a deep breath, still trying to shake the weight of the dream.

"You're not from around here, are you?" a small, soft voice asked.

Josh turned and saw a little girl standing by the bench, holding a book that looked huge compared to her.

She was very short, had short, wavy hair, her eyes behind her glasses looked at him curiously, but not at all scared.

He smiled, a bit awkwardly. "Is it that obvious?"

She shrugged. "Everyone who comes here has that look."

Josh let out a low chuckle. "What look?"

She thought for a moment before answering.

"That kinda lost, spooked look..."

Josh smiled and asked, "What's your name?"

"Mel," she replied.

"Nice to meet you, Mel. I'm Josh." She looked at him and pushed her glasses up her nose, then took the book from under her arm and let it rest on the bench.

Josh glanced at it. It was a large book, hardcover and green, with intricate gold details and letters that spelled "TORCHBEARER."

"That's a beautiful book. You read all of that?"

Mel smiled proudly and nodded.

"It's my favorite. It's about a warrior fighting for what he believes in. He brings light and hope," she said, her eyes shining.

Josh looked at her, impressed.

"You're a fascinating kid."

"You remind me of him."

Josh raised an eyebrow, curious. "The guy from your book?"

Mel nodded, smiling. "He also just showed up one day. Nobody knew where he came from."

Josh let out a low laugh. "I hope that's a compliment."

"Depends," the girl replied, thoughtful. "He wanted to save the world, but at what cost?"

Josh looked away, unsure how to respond. A breeze blew through, lifting the leaves on the square's ground.

"But what are you doing here, Josh?" Mel asked after a moment, curiosity sparkling in her eyes.

He sighed. "I need to get to a house. My great-aunt lived here. She... passed away."

Mel seemed to think for a moment. "Oh... so you must be the heir."

Josh blinked, surprised. "How did you–"

She just smiled. "HollowCreek is small. News travels fast."

Mel stood up and looked at him. "But I think I can help you. Just wait a little bit, okay?"

Before he could answer, she was already walking away through the trees in the square.

Josh watched her disappear among the flowers and sighed, still confused.

"Sure. It makes total sense to accept help from an extremely chatty kid I just met in a strange town," he muttered to himself, a corner of his mouth quirking up.

A few minutes later, the sound of wheels grinding on asphalt echoed through the square.

Mel was back, accompanied by two other kids.

The first was a girl wearing a red sweatshirt, walking with a ukulele slung across her back by a leather strap, swaying slightly with each step, as if it were a part of her.

And behind her was a blond boy who seemed tall for his age, wearing a sweatshirt just like hers, chatting happily as he pulled one of those metal wagons.

"Josh, these are my friends! Val and Kenton!" Mel said excitedly.

Kenton raised his hand in a wave. "Hey, man."

Val, excited, pointed to the wagon. "We brought our official transport! It's fast, comfortable, and fits a suitcase."

Josh laughed, shaking his head. "You guys are being way too nice to me."

"So," asked Kenton, leaning the skateboard against his leg, "where is the mysterious traveler headed?"

Josh looked around, as if still processing the answer himself. "To... the Moonwell mansion."

The silence was immediate.

Mel's eyes went wide. Val dropped her skateboard on the ground and stepped on it. Even Kenton looked uncomfortable.

Josh frowned. "What is it?"

Mel whispered, almost like someone sharing a forbidden secret:

"Nobody goes up there."

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As they walked, Josh listened to the kids chattering animatedly.

Kenton's wagon was a big help.

Kenton looked around as if he feared someone might hear them.

"Are you kidding? The Moonwell mansion?"

Josh shrugged. "It's the address they gave me."

Val looked down at the ground. "Everyone around here knows what happened there."

Josh raised an eyebrow. "What happened?"

The three kids exchanged a look, the kind of look that says more than any explanation.

Mel was the first to speak, her voice small, almost a whisper:

"They say that after Agnes Moonwell died, the lights in the house stayed on for weeks."

"And that the gardener who tried to get inside disappeared," Val added, a clear shiver in her voice.

"And that you can hear people talking inside, even though no one lives there," said Kenton, looking toward the horizon.

Josh looked at the three of them, unsure whether to laugh or be worried. "You guys must think this is some horror movie."

"For us, it is," said Mel. "But if you're the heir... then maybe the house has been waiting for you."

"What kind of crazy 'heir' talk is that?" Josh let out a nervous laugh, trying to lighten the weight of their words. "I'm hoping it at least has coffee and a hot shower."

Kenton pushed the wagon forward and patted its side. "So, you want a ride to the gate of doom, heir?"

Josh looked at them, amused. "Why not? I guess every horror movie needs a brave supporting cast."

"You got it!" Val shouted.

Mel laughed and climbed onto the front of the wagon.

"Welcome to HollowCreek, Josh."

And off they went, crossing the sunny square toward the road that led to the hill where the Moonwell mansion waited, quiet, old, and alive.

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As soon as they reached the rusty gate, Josh grabbed his suitcase and thanked them.

"We're not going in. If my mom finds out I came up here, she'll kill me and dance on my grave," Kenton said.

Josh did his best not to burst out laughing.

He said his goodbyes and entered the property.

Josh took a few hesitant steps up the driveway.

The gate creaked shut behind him, the sound echoing across the hill before getting lost in the wind.

The property was huge, the kind of place built to impress, and now it just served to intimidate.

The fountain in the center of the garden was covered in leaves and moss.

From the dry basin, he could still make out the carving of a heart in the stone, worn down by time.

The grass grew tall and yellowish around the stone path, and the house's windows watched him like colored eyes, red and blue reflections dancing in the stained glass.

The mansion was imposing, with two stories, an attic, and a basement he didn't even want to imagine.

The exterior walls were a dark, almost black gray, and the window frames, gothic and sharp, reminded him of the wings of a fallen church.

Josh took a deep breath and climbed the porch steps.

Just as he raised his hand to knock, the door swung open on its own, groaning in a low, drawn-out tone.

He stood still for a moment, his heart speeding up, but then he let out a breath, laughing nervously.

"Of course it opened by itself. Classic."

The interior was spacious and surprisingly well-preserved.

The air smelled of old wood and light dust, but not of total abandonment, more like someone had left just a few days ago and never returned.

The furniture was all dark mahogany, heavy and carved with an almost obsessive care.

Hearts.

There were hearts everywhere: on the columns, the mirror frames, the chair legs.

Some furniture had inlays of gemstones, rubies perhaps, shining discreetly under the pale light filtering through the stained glass.

The floor creaked with every step.

The chandeliers hung high above, made of iron and crystal, reflecting fragments of color down the hallway.

The velvet curtains were drawn, and the light seeping through them tinted everything a weary red.

Josh climbed the stairs slowly, his hand sliding along the cold banister.

On the second floor, he found a series of doors, all identical, except for one at the end of the hall.

Its doorknob was bronze, shaped like a heart.

He turned it carefully and pushed.

The room was large, spacious, and still held that expensive perfume smell.

A faded rug covered the floor, and the wooden wardrobe looked hand-carved.

Josh opened it and found countless clothes that must have belonged to his great-aunt Agnes, huge, expensive-looking dresses.

A huge oval mirror reflected the window and the pale daylight.

Josh dropped his suitcase on the bed and walked to the bathroom.

The door opened to reveal a room almost too luxurious for such a small town.

A stone bathtub, deep, carved from a single block, and an ornate metal shower with a blue stained-glass window right above it.

Cold water dripped slowly from the faucet, the sound echoing like a forgotten clock.

He leaned on the sink and looked at his reflection in the mirror: messy hair, the necklace dangling over his t-shirt, a tired look in his eyes.

For a moment, he had the sensation that his reflection took a second too long to mimic him.

Josh blinked, took a deep breath, and laughed softly. "It's okay, Josh… just the trip and the lack of sleep."

He stepped away from the mirror and went back to the bedroom.

Back in the hallway.

He explored, pushing open one door at a time.

All the rooms seemed like variations on the same theme: dark furniture, heavy curtains, the same smell of stored wood.

Sometimes an office, or a more child-like bedroom, but always the same pattern.

However, one of the doors, near the end of the hallway, stood out from the others.

Its frame had more detailed carvings, and right in the center, a blue stone was embedded in the wood.

It glowed softly with the light escaping from a crack in the window.

Josh approached, intrigued, and turned the doorknob.

The door opened with a dry click, and a different air escaped from within, cooler, almost pleasant, with a light, sweet scent he couldn't identify.

The room was more modern than the others.

The walls were light, and the furniture had a recent shine, as if someone had been there not long ago.

On the bed rested a dark-covered book, closed, but with a blue ribbon marking a page in the middle.

Josh ran his fingers over the cover but didn't open it.

He preferred to walk around the room, curious.

He stopped in front of the wardrobe and pulled the doors open.

He stood still for a moment.

Inside, rows and rows of black clothes, impeccably aligned.

Long coats, shirts, leather jackets, and fine fabrics that seemed to belong to another reality, all with tags from brands he only knew from store windows.

He touched one of the pieces. The fabric was soft, cool, almost silky.

Josh let out a low whistle, impressed.

"Even if I sell everything in this house…" he murmured, with a wry smile. "I think I'm keeping these."

Before he could pull his hand back, something moved quickly in the darkness of the wardrobe.

A rough sound, a high-pitched meow, and suddenly a black cat leaped towards him.

Josh was startled, stumbled, and fell on his back, the feline passing close to his face with its claws extended.

The animal landed gracefully on the floor, its fur bristling and its eyes shining like two pieces of amber.

Josh blinked, his heart racing. "Jesus, dude! Some welcome."

The cat stared fixedly at him, unmoving.

For a second, Josh got the impression it understood what he had said.

Then, the cat turned and disappeared through the door, leaving a light trail of dust and the sound of claws on the floorboards.

Josh sat on the floor, still trying to process it. "Great," he grumbled. "Not even five minutes in and I'm already being attacked by the local furniture and fauna."

He got up, brushed off his pants, and looked again at the book on the bed.

For some reason, the air in the room felt different now, colder, denser, as if something had been awakened.

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Josh slept badly.

The sound of the wind beating against the windows seemed to blend with the echoes of the dream that had haunted him all night.

This time, he only saw an intense purple light, and faceless figures walking in a circle around something he couldn't see.

When he tried to get closer, he realized the floor was moving under his feet like water.

And then, in the midst of the silence, the voice returned:

"The heart of the hill beats for you, Josh."

He woke up in a cold sweat, the necklace warm against his skin again.

Josh tried to sit up, but couldn't. He opened his eyes when he felt a weight on his chest.

Amber eyes stared back at him.

"Salem?" He reached out to pet the cat, who let out an angry, warning meow and climbed off him, stalking away in a huff.

For a few seconds, he just lay there, breathing deeply, trying to figure out what had just happened.

Whether the dream he'd had scared him or called to him.

In the end, he chose to get up.

The morning sun streamed through the curtains in golden bands, and for the first time since he'd arrived, the mansion seemed less threatening, just too big and too quiet.

After drinking a horrible instant coffee and studying his reflection in the mirror like a man searching for a shred of sanity, Josh decided he needed to see more of the town.

The walk to the town center was peaceful, lined with tall trees and old houses with wooden porches.

When he reached the square, he saw Mel, Kenton, and Val sitting by the fountain, tossing pebbles into the water.

"Look, the outsider survived the haunted mansion," Kenton joked, seeing him approach.

Josh laughed. "Barely. The local fauna tried to kill me."

Val's eyes went wide. "You saw your first ghost?"

"If by that you mean a furry demon, then yes."

Mel giggled softly.

Josh raised an eyebrow, but before he could respond, he heard a soft voice behind him.

"Mel, you forgot this at the shop."

When he turned, he saw a red-haired woman walking towards them, holding a small cloth bag.

Her hair was long, with golden highlights under the sun, and her dark green dress moved like silk with every step.

She smiled in a calm way, the kind of smile that made the air feel lighter.

"Oh, hi, Debby!" said Mel. "This is Josh, the new resident of the Moonwell mansion." Something glimmered in Debby's gaze.

Josh felt his face grow warm. "Yeah, seems like that news travels fast."

Debby let out a soft laugh. "In Hollowcreek, everything travels fast, especially time. I own the little shop over there, natural products, herbs, that kind of thing. If you need anything, just stop by."

"I'll remember that," he replied, sincerely.

She stepped to the side and gestured towards the streets. "Since you're new here, why don't you let me show you the basics of the town before they start scaring you with ghost stories."

"Too late for that," he said, placing a hand on his chest. They both laughed.

Josh walked with her.

They strolled through the square, and she pointed out the essentials: the small grocery store, the bakery, the general store, the pharmacy, the post office…

Finally, she took him to her little shop.

Josh looked around, curious. "It smells like memories in here."

"That's white sage mixed with lavender," Debby replied. "It works to ward off bad things. Or to bring back what's been forgotten, depends on who lights it." She said it with a quick glance he didn't understand.

Josh bought what he needed: groceries, coffee, soap, a box of matches, and a bag of cat food that she guaranteed was "the best in the county."

As he was paying, Debby looked at him for a moment, not in a strange way, but attentively.

"You have very... familiar eyes," she murmured.

Josh blinked, surprised. "What do you mean?"

She gave a small smile. "Nothing, just me being silly."

As he was leaving, Debby walked him to the corner.

"If you need help with the house, I know someone who understands these old structures."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Come back anytime, I'm always here. I'm babysitting the kids, now that they're on summer break, I'm watching them full-time."

Josh smiled. "They can visit me at the mansion whenever they want."

"You can count on it," Debby said with a strange smile, but Josh thought it was just his imagination.

Back at the mansion, Josh put the groceries on the counter and called for the cat:

"Hey, Salem! Chow time, my little personal house demon."

The cat appeared on the stairs, walking with calculated elegance, and stared at him with disdain.

Josh put a plate full of food on the floor. "There you go, champ. All organic, bought straight from the local witch."

The cat just blinked slowly, turned its head, and walked away, its tail held high as if mocking him.

Josh sighed. "Seriously?"

The cat disappeared down the hallway.

Josh huffed, leaning back against the counter. "Great."

Outside, the wind howled, and for a brief moment, he had the strange sensation that the house was laughing with him.

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During the week, Josh fell into the same cycle.

Working cataloging the house's furniture during the day, trying to sleep at night, and inevitably waking up in a cold sweat.

The dreams were becoming more vivid. Sometimes, voices whispered names he didn't know, other times, he saw the hill covered in a purple mist and someone standing right at the top, watching.

Every morning, the black cat was there, sleeping next to him on the bed, even if it spent the rest of the day pretending Josh didn't exist.

On Friday, he went into town to meet with the lawyer.

The same man in the suit who had appeared at the shop earlier in the week was waiting for him in front of the post office building.

This time, he introduced himself more calmly.

"Mark Eshleman, attorney for the Moonwell family."

Mark was a man in his early twenties, thin, with light brown hair slicked back. He was extremely pale and seemed very young for the profession.

His light gray suit, silver wristwatch, and leather briefcase perfectly matched the organized, direct demeanor of someone who lived in an office.

He greeted Josh with a firm handshake.

"Mr. Dun, everything is being prepared for the document transfer. The mansion and the land will soon be legally in your name."

Josh ran a hand through his hair. "Actually, I don't plan on keeping it. I want to sell it as soon as possible."

Mark paused briefly, and for a moment, his gaze seemed disappointed.

"I understand. It's a valuable place, full of history. But the process is a bit lengthy. I just ask that you trust me and be patient."

"That's fine."

The lawyer opened his briefcase and consulted some papers. "In the meantime, I want you to feel comfortable. As soon as I leave here, I'll arrange a transfer of one hundred thousand dollars to your account."

Josh blinked, not believing what he had just heard. "One hundred thousand dollars?"

Mark just nodded with a small smile. "Let's consider it an advance on the estate. Agnes always wanted you to be well taken care of."

Josh thanked him, still speechless.

He left there stunned. He had never seen that much money in his life, not even in his wildest dreams.

Back in town, he decided to treat himself.

He went into the grocery store and made the most expensive purchase of his life: fresh bread, aged cheddar cheese, a bottle of California red wine, real butter, and a box of imported cereal.

At the meat counter, he chose a prime cut, filet mignon, wrapped in brown paper.

The feeling of luxury made him laugh to himself. "Congratulations, Josh. The newest heir in history and now an eater of expensive meat."

That night, back in the kitchen, he unwrapped the meat and was preparing to season it when he felt something rubbing against his leg.

He looked down.

"Salem?"

The cat stared at him with its almost glowing golden eyes, meowing with a theatrical tone of neediness.

Josh raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so now I exist to you."

The cat let out a louder meow, its ears slightly lowered.

Josh cut off a small piece of the raw meat and placed it on the little metal dish.

Salem sniffed it, gave it a lick, and then devoured the piece with an enthusiasm he had never shown for the cat food.

Josh crossed his arms, watching.

"So that's how it is, huh? Only prime cuts for you."

The cat lifted its head, licking its chops, satisfied.

Josh shook his head, laughing. "Alright, your highness. I'll remember that."

The sound of the wind passed by the windows, and for a moment, the house felt less empty.

Dinner was the first decent one in a long time.

The meat sizzled on the stove, the smell spreading through the old kitchen, mixing with the faint aroma of the newly opened wine.

Josh sat at the table with a simple plate and a crystal glass he'd found in the cupboard, one of the many objects that seemed too expensive to touch, but he decided he deserved it.

Beside him, Salem devoured another piece of meat, served on one of the house's fancy china plates.

The cat ate with the concentration of a king at a banquet.

Josh raised his glass, smiling. "This is our moment, partner."

The cat answered with a lazy meow, not even lifting its head.

Josh laughed and took a sip.

As he chewed slowly, he watched the animal lick its chops contentedly and then begin cleaning its paws with an almost theatrical slowness.

"Yeah, I guess it's approved."

Salem yawned, displaying his white teeth, and settled onto the rug.

Josh stretched in his chair and looked at the old clock hanging on the wall.

"Bedtime, your highness."

The cat seemed to already know.

As soon as Josh went upstairs, it followed him silently, its tail swishing from side to side like a lazy metronome.

In the bedroom, Josh took off his clothes, dropped his pants on the armchair, and lay down on the bed, exhausted.

The mattress gave under the cat's weight seconds later.

Salem settled on his chest, purring softly, as if reclaiming his territory.

Josh smiled. "Salem, you're actually a pretty good kitty."

The cat opened one golden eye and meowed in an almost offended tone. "Okay, I get it. How about Nero? Or Loki?"

Another meow, shorter this time.

Josh laughed. "Hard to please, huh? Maybe... Ozzy?"

Silence and more disdain.

Then, a louder purr.

"Okay... I give up."

He yawned, his hand rising slowly to stroke the soft fur.

For the first time, the cat didn't pull away.

It just closed its eyes and laid its head down, allowing itself to be petted.

Josh felt his chest grow warm under the animal's light, steady weight.

Within minutes, the rhythmic sound of their breathing filled the room.

And so, man and cat fell asleep, two strangers sharing a house that seemed, little by little, to be starting to watch them back.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

Josh was dreaming.

Or at least he thought he was dreaming.

Music came from all directions, old and muffled, as if playing in a distant ballroom.

Golden lights flickered and danced on the ceiling, and dozens of people moved slowly among glasses and laughter.

He was in the middle of them, but no one seemed to notice him.

Long dresses, elegant suits, sweet perfumes in the air.

Josh walked, trying to understand what he was doing there, until he saw a woman standing near the piano.

Her long, salt-and-pepper black hair fell in waves over her shoulders, and her smile held something familiar.

He approached slowly and touched her shoulder.

When she turned, his heart almost stopped.

"Agnes?"

The woman smiled gently. "My dear Joshua."

Her voice sounded warm and serene, but there was something about it that transcended time.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you," she said, as if it were the first time.

Josh tried to respond, but the words wouldn't come out.

The people around them seemed to freeze, the sound of the party fading until only the piano remained, playing alone.

Agnes took a step forward and held his hands. "You have eyes of light. And the weight of someone who carries much more than they know."

Josh blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"

She smiled, tilting her head. "I have something for you. A gift... from the family."

From the sleeves of her dress, she withdrew a necklace.

*His* necklace.

The chain was ancient, and at its center was a red stone that glowed as if it had a heart of its own.

Agnes placed the pendant in his hands and closed them gently.

Her fingers were cold, but firm.

"This necklace comes from many generations. It always waited for the right moment, the right person. And now, it's yours." She squeezed his hands tightly. "You are special, Joshua."

Her voice began to repeat the phrase, echoing "special... special..." until it multiplied into a thousand voices.

Agnes's eyes, once kind, began to glow with an intense red.

The sound of the piano became a distorted noise.

The ballroom dissolved into light.

Josh screamed and woke up.

The room was dark, the air heavy.

Cold sweat dripped down his forehead, and his heart felt like it wanted to leap out of his chest.

Beside him, Salem was sitting, calmly licking his paws as if nothing had happened.

Josh took a deep breath, trying to return to reality.

"It's okay..." he murmured, more to himself than to the cat.

Salem looked up, his golden eyes reflecting the dim light of the lamp.

For a moment, Josh was sure the reflection flashed red.

But when he looked again, it was just the cat, indifferent, serene, and very much awake.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

The afternoon sun covered the backyard lawn in light.

The ancient trees surrounded the property like a natural wall, and in the distance, the Moonwell lake reflected the clear sky like a mirror.

Josh watched the children run back and forth: Mel balancing on an old rope swing, Kenton trying to push her higher than he should, and Val laughing as she slid down a rusty slide that had probably been there since the fifties.

The sound of laughter echoed through the air, and for a moment, the mansion seemed less gloomy.

Debby was sitting beside him under one of the trees, with a blanket spread out and a soda bottle in her hands.

Lunch had been simple sandwiches, chips, and glass bottles of Coke—but the conversation was easy, almost comforting.

Josh took a bite of his sandwich and looked at the lake. "It's beautiful here. But it gives me the creeps."

Debby looked up, curious. "Why?"

"I don't know." He shrugged. "Since I got here, I haven't been sleeping well. I hear things... footsteps, voices, and sometimes I feel like someone's watching me."

Debby was silent for a few seconds, looking at the light's reflection on the water. "It could just be the wind," she said finally, in a neutral tone.

Josh let out a humorless laugh. "If it is, that wind knows my name."

She didn't respond.

Kenton approached just then, skipping stones on the lake and counting the bounces.

"How many days are you planning to stay?" asked Debby.

"I'm not sure yet."

She turned her head slowly, as if the answer didn't please her. "So it's decided then."

"Don't get me wrong, it's an amazing place, but... there's something wrong here." Josh took a sip of his soda. "And if this house really is haunted, I won't be able to sell it. Maybe I should call the Warrens."

Mel stopped pushing the swing. "Who?"

"Ed and Lorraine Warren," Josh explained. "The investigators from Connecticut. They deal with this kind of thing."

Kenton chuckled and said, "Connecticut mentioned."

Everyone turned to him, and he just shrugged.

Debby just took a deep breath and crossed her legs. "They're charlatans. They chase what doesn't exist."

Josh raised an eyebrow. "You don't believe in hauntings?"

She looked at him in an enigmatic way, the green of her eyes seeming to glow for a moment in the light. "It's not that, I just believe in things that are much worse."

The wind suddenly blew, rustling the leaves and making the lake's reflection tremble.

Salem, lying near the picnic blanket, lifted his head and fixed his gaze toward the treetops, his body tense.

Josh followed the cat's gaze but saw nothing.

When he looked back at Debby, she was smiling again, gentle, calm, as if nothing had happened. She reached a hand toward the black cat to pet him, Salem hissed at her so angrily that even Josh was taken aback.

Debby smiled at him, brushing it off.

"You don't need the Warrens," she said. "I can help you."

After a delightful lunch of conversation and play, the children asked to see the inside of the mansion.

Debby's eyes seemed to shine brighter than theirs.

Josh hesitated, but eventually agreed.

Debby entered as if she already knew the place. She walked slowly, running her hand over the furniture, the walls, the stained glass that filtered the light into red and blue hues.

Salem followed Josh's steps, his gaze attentive and body rigid, the fur on his back slightly raised.

When they reached the library, the children were enchanted.

Huge books, covered in dust and leather bindings, filled the shelves up to the ceiling.

Kenton pulled a thick book from the shelf and opened it excitedly. "Look at this! It even has the Loch Ness Monster in here. I bet it's like Godzilla!"

Val rolled her eyes. "There goes Kenton talking about that thing again."

"What? Godzilla is amazing! Did you guys know there's a new movie coming out in Japan in a few months?"

Val rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. Another giant monster running around destroying a city?"

"You don't understand," Kenton retorted. "People think he's a monster, but he only reacts to what they did to him. I think deep down he just wants to be left alone," he said in a dramatic tone.

Josh laughed, leaning against the shelf. "If it's half as good as you're describing, it's worth the price of admission."

Debby just smiled, distracted, her eyes scanning the room as if searching for something.

They left the children to have fun on their own in the library and walked through the house.

Josh walked with her through the living room, both observing the paintings.

They stopped in front of one of Agnes.

"Wow!" Debby said.

"She was incredible, wasn't she?"

"She had this... look, and the..." Debby points to her chest. "You got that from her."

Josh laughed awkwardly and turned away to hide his red face.

They stopped in front of a larger painting. It took up the entire wall by the stairs and rose up to the second-floor ceiling.

It was a kind of family tree, mapping Josh's entire lineage from the earliest days.

Josh squinted to read the beginning of the painting way up at the top and read quietly, "Agatha Moonwell."

Debby shuddered beside him.

"Josh, where do you feel discomfort in this house?" Josh blinked, confused at her.

"Sometimes I hear voices coming from the basement, but I've never had the courage to go down there."

Then she moved closer to him, touching his hair and looking into his eyes.

"Then maybe it's a good idea to go down there." She extended her hand to Josh and smiled innocently. "Don't be afraid, I'm with you."

The two walked to the basement in silence, the stairs creaked, and the acoustics down there were strange, almost supernatural.

It looked like a normal basement to Josh, nothing incredible or extraordinary.

Then Debby walked over to a wooden shelf and ran her hand along the side. With an almost imperceptible click, a section of the wall moved.

"What the..." Josh began, taking a step back.

Behind the shelf, a dark opening was revealed, with a narrow staircase descending.

The air rising from it was cold and damp, smelling of ancient stone.

"Did you already know about this?" Josh asked.

Debby just replied in a low tone: "No, it was just a coincidence."

Josh nodded silently.

They descended slowly.

The stone floor was cracked, and the ceiling opened up into a kind of natural chamber.

Down there, the air seemed to vibrate.

In the center, a fissure, a shallow crater, pulsed faintly, with symbols carved around it. Ancient, irregular runes, etched as if they had been burned into the rock.

Josh crouched down. "What is this?"

Debby didn't answer.

Her gaze was fixed on the center of the crater, where something glowed faintly.

"It looks... alive," he murmured.

Josh noticed some flowers, they were beautiful. He moved toward them and-

"Don't touch," she said, too quickly.

Josh looked up, surprised by her tone.

The light from the fissures tinted Debby's face with a purple glow, and her pupils seemed darker, almost black.

All around, small life forms floated in the air, like fireflies, but translucent, shimmering in shades of violet.

Higher up, what looked like spectral butterflies beat their wings slowly, leaving luminous trails in the air.

Josh watched water spring from that which he could not name, the liquid flowed as if it were weeping, and then the earth absorbed it.

Everything felt so unreal.

"This doesn't make sense," Josh murmured, turning around. "How can there be vegetation down here?"

The plants had thin stems and leaves of a deep purple that seemed to emit their own light.

With every step, the floor vibrated slightly, as if breathing.

Debby took a deep breath and looked at him. Then she crouched and touched one of the runes, Josh thought he saw her whisper something.

Then she turned to him and said, "The house isn't haunted, Josh. It's waking up."

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When Josh and Debby came back up to the house, the children's laughter had vanished.

The library was silent.

Mel was sitting on the floor, surrounded by Kenton and Val. Her face was pale, her eyes somewhat dazed, and her hands were trembling slightly.

Debby hurried over and knelt beside her. "What happened?"

Kenton shook his head, nervous. "We were reading and... she just got like this, out of nowhere."

"I don't feel well," murmured Mel, her voice barely a whisper.

Debby held the girl by the shoulders and helped her stand. Her gaze was firm, but tense.

"Let's go. I think we've had enough excitement for one day."

Josh walked the group to the door.

Debby turned for a moment, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear. "I'll let you know when she's feeling better."

Josh nodded, and she gave a slight smile before walking away with the children.

The sun was beginning to set, tinting the garden orange and gold. The glow of the twilight made Debby's hair look like moving fire as she walked away down the dirt road.

Josh stood there for a few seconds, not understanding exactly what was bothering him.

Maybe everything.

He didn't feel hungry that night.

Still, he prepared Salem's dinner.

Grilled meat, cut into pieces, served on the fancy china the cat clearly considered his own.

Josh sat at the table with a glass of wine, watching the cat eat calmly.

"You're having a great time, huh?" he said with a low chuckle. "Here I am, drowning in strange dreams and ghosts, and you're eating better than I've ever eaten in my entire life."

Salem stared at him for a moment, then went back to the meat, indifferent.

Josh sighed. "I don't know what to think. This house is beautiful, but it feels like... it's looking back."

He took a sip of wine. "And the town, I don't know, everyone seems to know more than they're saying. Even Debby..."

He cut himself off and felt his face grow warm.

"Debby is… different," he murmured. "But there's something about her I don't get."

The cat lifted its head, its golden eyes half-closed in a gesture that seemed pure mockery.

Josh laughed. "Okay, I get it. Not the kind of conversation you want to have."

The wine glass clicked softly against the table as he set it down.

"But I'm serious. All of this is making me nervous. I need to sort this out and get out of here."

The silence of the house was cut by a sudden, metallic sound.

The phone was ringing in the living room, loud, insistent, the kind of ring that felt more like a scare than a call.

Josh stood up too quickly, and his head spun for a moment.

He walked to the device and picked it up.

"Hello?"

The voice on the other end was familiar, firm.

"Josh, it's Mark. I need to meet with you next week. It's important."

Josh blinked, trying to process. "Alright. Can you tell me what it's about?"

"I'd prefer in person. Monday. Bring your documents and be there at noon."

The sharp click came right after, and the line went dead.

Josh stared at the phone, the sound of the clock ticking echoing through the house.

Outside, the wind blew through the trees, and somewhere, Salem let out a low meow, as if he too had heard something Josh hadn't noticed.

Josh walked to the window and stared into the darkness.

Suddenly, a loud caw. Josh jumped back.

Salem leaped onto the windowsill, hissing at the crow that stared at them from outside.

The crow flew away.

Josh climbed the stairs with slow steps.

The day had been long, and all he wanted now was the silence of the bedroom.

Inside, moonlight streamed through the window, silvering the rumpled sheets.

Josh got ready for bed as usual, wearing only pajama pants.

Salem was already waiting for him, or, more accurately, pretending not to be waiting for him.

He jumped onto the bed with his usual elegance, made two circles on Josh's chest, and started kneading.

Josh chuckled softly. "Okay, got it. It's our routine now, huh?"

The cat purred loudly in response.

Gradually, the rhythmic sound of the purring and his exhaustion dragged him into sleep.

The room dissolved, and he found himself surrounded by blue flames.

They were cold, but comforting.

The flames enveloped him like arms, touching him without burning.

He let himself be carried, and everything around him turned to light.

Josh woke with a shiver.

The room was freezing, the air heavy.

He turned, seeking warmth, and hugged something hot.

For a moment, he snuggled instinctively, feeling the warm body against his.

Then, he blinked.

His eyes opened slowly.

He looked, confused, at a naked body lying face down under the covers. Josh could see the movement of this person's breathing.

His gaze traveled down from the long, straight, silky black hair, over the toned but not exaggerated back, then he stared at the round, perky butt.

He immediately averted his eyes, blushing.

"There's a naked man in my bed," he thought, smiling sleepily.

The next second was panic.

"Wait... there's a naked man in my bed?!"

Chapter Text

They send me away to find them a fortune

A chest filled with diamonds and gold

The house was awake

With shadows and monsters

The hallways, they echoed and growled

♩  ♪  ♫ ♬ ♩  ♪  ♫ ♬ ♩  ♪  ♫ ♬ ♩  ♪  ♫ ♬ ♩  ♪  ♫ ♬♩  ♪  ♫ ♬ ♩  ♪  ♫ ♬ ♩  ♪  ♫ ♬ ♩  ♪  ♫ ♬ ♩  ♪  

"There's a naked man in my bed," he thought, smiling sleepily.

The next second was panic.

"Wait... there's a naked man in my bed?!"

Josh sat up dazed, not taking his eyes off the being lying there in front of him.

The man was just there, lying in his bed, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

He tried to silence all the thoughts in his head screaming about how attractive he was.

"Focus," he thought.

He looked again.

Messy dark hair, pale skin, and the sheet barely covering his body.

Josh blinked several times. "Okay, this isn't happening."

"Yes, it is," the guy replied, without even opening his eyes. "And you've been staring for way too long."

Josh jumped back. "W–who are you?!"

The man let out an impatient sigh and stretched, his voice deep and lazy.

"Jesus, can a guy never get any peace in this house? You Moonwells are all so loud in the morning."

Josh blinked, confused. "How do you know my name?"

The other let out a low, deep chuckle.

"You talk in your sleep."

"I do what?!"

The man opened one eye. Amber. Bright. Familiar.

Josh froze.

"S-Salem?" slipped out before he could stop it.

The man turned his face to him slowly, his expression shifting from neutral to pure disdain.

"No. My name is Tyler."

Josh raised his hands, stumbling over his words. "Okay, okay, sorry! I just- you have the same eyes-"

"-as a black cat you insist on calling Salem?"

Josh was speechless.

"Yeah, I know. And for your information, I am not your pet. Never was."

Josh was blinking like a broken traffic light. "Are you saying that... you're my cat?"

Tyler rolled his eyes and flopped back onto the bed.

"Congratulations, Sherlock. Took you what, three whole minutes?"

Josh stood there, trying to decide whether to scream or laugh.

"Okay, this is ridiculous. You can't just-"

"-turn human? Oh, but I can," Tyler cut in, propping his chin on his hand. "The problem is, I'm realizing I can't do the opposite."

Josh ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. "This makes zero sense."

"Not to me either," said Tyler, looking at the ceiling. "And honestly? I prefer being a cat. Nobody tries to make me wear pants."

Josh took a deep breath, his face already warm. "Speaking of which... could you, I don't know, put some clothes on?!"

Tyler looked at him, amused. "You're the one who woke me up, remember? Besides, this human form is a drag. Just spit it out before I go back to sleep."

"You just said you can't turn back into a cat."

"Details."

Josh huffed, incredulous. "You're insufferable in both forms."

Tyler smirked, his voice sounding almost like a purr. "And you're so easy to tease."

Silence hung between them for a moment, charged, until Josh looked away, red to the tips of his ears.

"Great. Now, on top of a talking cat, I have an exhibitionist living with me."

"Relax," Tyler replied, settling back into the sheets. "You'll get used to it. You Moonwells always do."

Josh's eyes widened. "What do you mean, 'you Moonwells'?"

But Tyler had already turned on his side, that mysterious smile still on his face.

"Wrong question, Joshu."

Josh got dressed with whatever he found first and, still feeling dazed, left the room confused by it all.

Josh was the type who avoided conflict at all costs, and this felt like one of those situations.

He needed coffee. Urgently.

He went down the stairs quietly, feeling the wooden floor creak under his feet. The house was still cold, the air smelling of old dust and wine.

In the kitchen, the morning sun streamed through the stained glass, tinting everything red and blue.

Josh sighed. At least the kitchen still seems normal, he thought, lighting the stove.

He made coffee strong enough to raise the dead and fried eggs with bacon and toast, the classic meal he only made when he wanted to forget the world.

As he ate, his mind raced.

He still couldn't process the fact that his cat now had a voice, legs, and sarcasm.

"Alright, Josh. So now you have a man-cat. Next thing you know, the radio will start talking too."

He decided he needed to occupy his mind.

He pulled on his boots, threw on his hoodie, and went out to the backyard.

The air was fresh, and the mansion's garden seemed swallowed by nature.

He cleared some of the weeds, chopped firewood, stacked the logs by the shed. The axe fell in rhythm with his thoughts, fast, heavy, trying to silence any memory of what he'd seen that morning.

Then he went to the old stone fountain in the front garden.

The water wasn't running, just a stagnant puddle full of dead leaves. Josh knelt, examining the cracks, trying to understand what was wrong with it.

The sun was already rising in the sky, gilding everything.

When he finally stood up, sweat dripping down his forehead, Josh looked toward the house.

Through the back window, he saw Tyler.

The man was walking around the dining room, barefoot, wearing black clothes that looked like they'd been taken from some elegant 60s catalog, an unbuttoned shirt, hands covered in black gloves, tight pants, fabric too fine for someone who claimed to hate being human.

He was sniffing a mug of coffee, wrinkling his nose, curious and suspicious.

Josh smiled, wiped his hands on his pants, and hurried across the lawn.

He opened the door with an enthusiastic "good morning," still breathless from the work.

Tyler turned slowly, his amber eyes sparking.

"You..." he said, pointing. "Did you just walk in here from outside covered in mud?"

Josh looked down at his own feet.

The boots, once black, were now brown with mud. The hallway floor was too.

"Oh, sorry, I-"

"You are literally a mangy dog," Tyler interrupted, exasperated. "You ran around outside, got yourself all dirty, and now you're traipsing into the house like you own the place."

Josh blinked, indignant. He grabbed a dish towel and started wiping his hands. Tyler shot him a look of pure hatred.

"Mangy dog?! I'm the one who let you sleep in my bed, you ingrate!"

Tyler arched an eyebrow. "Ah, yes. Thank you for the hospitality. It was truly a dream to wake up to someone screaming in my ear and then tracking mud everywhere right after."

"You should be thanking me for not kicking your furry tail out!"

Tyler scoffed, going back to sniffing the coffee. "If you want to thank me for something, thank me for not turning back into a cat yet. If I had, I'd have already scratched you."

Josh let out a nervous laugh. "You're impossible."

"And you're clumsy," Tyler retorted, with a lazy half-smile.

Josh threw the towel down forcefully on the counter and crossed his arms, his brow furrowed.

"I don't get you. We barely know each other and you already seem to hate me."

Tyler, who was leaning against the edge of the table and holding a cup, looked up calmly, the corner of his mouth curling into a brief, cynical smile.

"Of course. Some brat walks into my house and makes a huge mess. What do you expect me to think?"

Josh took a deep breath, trying not to lose his patience. "Brat? I'm the owner of this house now."

Tyler took a slow sip of coffee, unbothered. "'Owner' is a strong word for someone who can barely stand up without tripping over his own pride."

Josh pointed a finger at him. "You are the most insufferable person possible, aren't you?"

"No. This is just my natural state."

The silence between them lasted a few seconds, only the sound of the wind hitting the window.

Tyler set the cup down and looked around, analyzing the floor still bearing traces of mud.

"Since you have so much energy, you might as well clean all of this up. I want every corner of this house spotless. Understood, dog?"

Josh looked at him, indignant.

Tyler raised an eyebrow, impassive. "I suggest you start quickly."

Josh opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, and gave up. "This isn't fair."

Tyler stared at his own hands. "Life rarely is."

"I think we should at least split the chores."

Tyler crossed his arms, the smile appearing again, one of those slow, dangerous smiles.

His eyes glowed blue.

"Split it, huh?" Josh got goosebumps from his gaze. "Fine. You take the upstairs, I'll take the ground floor."

They stared at each other.

"Great!" said Josh.

"Great," Tyler replied.

Josh narrowed his eyes, suspicious. "You agreed way too easily."

"Maybe I just have common sense," Tyler said, turning to leave.

Josh watched him go, feeling like he'd just walked into a trap.

Tyler stopped at the door, his back turned, and said in a calm tone:

"And make sure you do a good job, dog. I like things shiny."

Josh clenched his fists and muttered under his breath. "You're the worst."

Tyler gave a slight smile, without looking back. "And if you're not happy about it, you can leave."

Josh sighed and went to the stairs, climbing slowly, the rag slung over his shoulder, his breathing heavy.

He sighed. "Let's get this over with."

He started with his own room, folding clothes, collecting glasses, and organizing the chaos he'd left over the past few days. With every drawer he closed, his body ached a little more.

Then he moved on to the hallways, dusting the furniture, cleaning frames, windows, and the endless hearts carved into the woodwork of the house.

In no time, the upstairs smelled of wet wood and soap.

Josh wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm and looked around, satisfied.

Only one room left.

He stared at the mahogany door.

He approached it slowly, the rag already soaked in his hands.

The stone embedded in the door seemed to pulse faintly, a cold gleam, like the reflection of a star.

Josh reached for the doorknob.

Before he could touch it, the door shone with an intense blue light and slammed shut with force, hitting him square in the face.

"OW, MY--!"

From downstairs came Tyler's irritated voice: "Not there!"

Josh staggered back, rubbing his nose. "What the hell..."

The door remained closed, the glow disappearing as if nothing had happened.

He decided not to push it. "Fine! It can stay dirty then!"

As he was finishing the last room in the hallway, he heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

Tyler appeared in the doorway, his hair falling over his eyes, with the expression of a sommelier.

"Ah, what a sight," he said, crossing his arms. "The Moonwell heir cleaning his own castle. Agnes would be thrilled."

Josh spun on his heels, tired. "What are you here to inspect? I've been here since early morning scrubbing everything while you-"

"Ah, I was reading," Tyler interrupted, casual.

Josh blinked. "You were... reading?"

"Books are great companions. Unlike certain people who leave footprints everywhere."

"You're unbelievable," Josh muttered. "I should-"

Tyler raised a hand, calling for silence. The movement was so precise that Josh, without knowing why, obeyed.

For a moment, the air seemed to vibrate.

Tyler's eyes glowed blue, intense and deep.

He raised his right arm and moved it to the left as if tracing something invisible, and then back to the right. Josh felt a cold wind on his face.

And then a loud boom .

Downstairs, a metallic sound echoed, the dragging of furniture, doors slamming, water running.

Josh's eyes widened.

"What did you do?"

Tyler just smiled, the blue glow fading. "Exactly what we agreed on. I cleaned the ground floor."

Josh hurried down the stairs, his heart racing.

When he reached the living room, he stopped mid-step.

Everything was impeccable.

The floor was gleaming, the furniture looked new, the stained glass sparkled under the light coming through the windows. The air had a light, sweet, almost supernatural scent.

Josh looked back, still dumbfounded. "How...?"

Tyler descended a step behind him, unhurried.

"You work with your hands," he said with an almost imperceptible smile. "I prefer magic."

Josh shook his head, exhausted, and turned his gaze back to the gleaming hall. "You are the worst helper in the world."

"I disagree," Tyler replied, stretching his arms lazily. "From what we can see here, I'm actually the best."

Josh couldn't help but laugh, even though he was tired. "Lazy."

"Only if where you come from that means 'efficient'," he retorted, with that half-smile that seemed to hide the whole world.

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Night fell quietly, a stark contrast to the day they'd had.

Josh and Tyler ate dinner in silence.

Unlike other times, Tyler now ate at the other end of the table, both of them quiet.

Every now and then, Josh caught Tyler staring at him, but the look wasn't one of anger, or even sarcasm.

This time, it held a certain... care.

The two went upstairs and walked to the same room as always, lay down, and stayed quiet, looking at opposite sides of the bed.

Suddenly, Josh glanced over his shoulder and said.

"Tyler?..."

Tyler turned just enough for his eyes to meet Josh's.

"Can... can I hug you for a bit?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper.

Tyler arched an eyebrow, ready to mock him, but hesitated.

"You really are a puppy, aren't you?"

"Just for a minute."

Tyler hesitated for a moment. "Okay. Just a minute."

They fell asleep like that.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

Josh woke up with his face buried in the pillow and something heavy wrapped around his waist.

For a second, he thought he was still dreaming until he heard the soft sound of a low purr, far too human to be from a cat.

He opened one eye.

Tyler was still asleep, his arm firmly around him, his messy hair brushing against Josh's neck.

The world seemed too quiet.

Even the hallway clock seemed to tick slowly.

Josh tried to carefully free himself.

Tyler made a sleepy sound, almost a meow.

"Stay still," he murmured, without opening his eyes.

"Did you just meow?" Josh whispered back.

"I don't talk in my sleep," he said slyly.

Josh rolled his eyes and got up, trying to ignore the smile threatening to appear.

The sun was already past noon when he hurriedly left the house.

He swapped his hoodie for a worn denim jacket and grabbed the documents Mark had asked him to bring.

The stone road led him back to town, the hot, humid air sticking to his skin.

The town square was bustling, people carrying bags, kids with popsicles, a dog barking at a pigeon.

Josh was crossing distractedly, checking the time, when he bumped into someone.

The papers flew.

"Ah, shit– sorry!"

He bent down hurriedly to gather everything, just as the other person did the same.

Their fingers touched as they both reached for the same envelope.

Josh felt a small shock and instinctively pulled his arm back.

He looked up and froze.

The girl was short, her skin a sun-kissed brown, her hair in long braids tied with colorful ribbons.

She wore a floral dress that reached her knees, worn black combat boots, and a denim jacket covered in pins.

The contrast between the delicate and the rebellious was... hypnotic.

"I... I'm sorry," she said, her voice trembling, as if she could barely believe what she was seeing. "It's okay, I should have looked– My God," she whispered, her eyes wide. "How can it be?"

Josh blinked, confused. "Sorry... how?"

"Is it really you?" She stammered, her face in shock. "This is– this is incredible!"

He laughed awkwardly, trying to grab the last paper the wind was carrying. "I'm not that incredible, I swear. Do we know each other?"

The girl opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again, seeming to search for words that didn't exist.

"Sorry, it's just–" she took a deep breath. "It's just that... you look like someone I knew."

Josh smiled, still not understanding anything. "Well, if he was clumsy too, maybe it's a coincidence."

She finally let out a little laugh, but the nervousness remained. "My name is Amy."

"Josh," he replied, extending his hand. "Nice to meet you, Amy. Now, do you want to explain what that was all about?"

She looked around, as if the world had changed places. "What year is it?"

Josh blinked, completely lost. "What?"

"The year," she insisted. "Please, just... tell me."

"1984."

Amy paled.

The nervous smile vanished from her face.

"No... it can't be," she murmured.

She started to back away, stumbling slightly on her own bag.

"Hey, calm down," Josh said, trying to reach for her. "Are you okay?"

But she was already moving away down the sidewalk, her eyes wide, the floral dress swaying in the wind.

Before he could say anything else, Amy disappeared around the corner.

Josh stood there, the crumpled papers in his hands, his heart beating fast.

The silence of the square seemed to grow around him.

"...Okay," he murmured. "I definitely need more coffee."

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

Mark adjusted his glasses and flipped through a few pages before speaking.

"Everything is moving along well, Josh. The house transfer process is already underway."

Josh nodded, distracted. "Great. And about the sale?"

"I'm handling that too." The lawyer folded his hands on the desk. "In fact, a potential buyer has emerged. But... there's something strange."

Josh looked up. "Strange how?"

"He made contact through a third party. Didn't introduce himself, didn't send any documents, and the offer is... overly generous."

Josh frowned. "So you think… "

"That it's someone with a specific interest in that property," Mark completed. "And I intend to find out who."

Josh leaned back in his chair, his stomach churning. "I just want to get this over with, you know? That house is... different."

Mark watched him calmly, as if weighing his words. "I understand."

For a moment, silence reigned.

Then the lawyer opened a drawer and pulled out a small, dark wooden box, carefully wrapped in a red cloth.

"Ah. And this..." He pushed the box toward Josh. "It was a special request from Agnes. She said that when the time came, it should be delivered only to you."

Josh frowned, intrigued. "She left more things for me?"

Mark nodded. "She said it was what really mattered."

Josh turned the box in his hands. The clasp was simple, but the cold touch of the wood seemed to pulse faintly, almost as if it had a life of its own.

"Can... can I open it?"

"She would have preferred you do that when you're alone."

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The wood creaked softly as Josh lifted the lid.

The smell of old paper and incense escaped the box.

Inside, there was a carefully folded letter, a dark leather-bound book, a silver ring with a carved heart, and a small orb, worn by time.

Tyler was beside him, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and gaze curious.

Josh ignored him and picked up the letter. The paper was yellowed, the handwriting neat and delicate.

He unfolded it carefully and began to read aloud.

My dear Joshua, 

If you are reading this, it is because time has finally taken me. 

I deeply regret that we did not share more days together. I wish I could have seen you grow, laugh, make mistakes, and learn, as every child deserves. 

You were always special, even when you were small. There was something in your eyes, a brightness that no other Moonwell had before. 

I know the world sometimes feels heavy, but your heart was made to illuminate dark places. 

Perhaps you don't understand now, but there is something inside you that connects you to this house, to me, and to all who came before. 

Take care of it, and it will take care of you. 

With all the love I couldn't show in life, 

Agnes Moonwell. 

Josh blinked a few times, feeling a lump in his throat. "She... she really believed in these things."

"And she was right," Tyler said, his voice low.

Josh picked up the book. The cover was thick, made of worn, dark leather, with symbols he didn't recognize engraved along the edges. "What is this?"

Tyler approached, his eyes fixed on the object.

"So she left the grimoire with the bloodsucker."

"The what?"

"A grimoire," he repeated, crossing his arms. "It's like... a diary, but for spells. Guarded knowledge, passed down from generation to generation. Every witch leaves hers."

Josh decided to ignore the other shocking piece of information to focus on just one of them. He let out a nervous laugh. "Are you telling me that... that Agnes really was a witch?"

"She was," Tyler replied, simply. "And a good one."

Josh opened the book to a random page, strange symbols, drawings of moons, notes in purple ink that seemed to glow faintly in the light from the window.

"My God…"

Tyler watched him with a slight smile. "Welcome to the family, Josh. Or should I say… Joshua Moonwell Dun?"

Josh swallowed hard and picked up the ring.

The metal was cold and had a shine that didn't look like gold or silver.

It seemed... alive.

A small heart was carved in the center, subtle, but perfectly molded.

"What is this?"

Tyler looked at the ring with a certain weight in his gaze. "Complicated. But... you'll understand in time."

Josh spun the ring between his fingers, unsure if he should wear it.

Finally, he looked at the last item in the box: a small ball, smooth, worn, as if it had been used a great deal.

He held it up to the light.

"That's funny… Why would she leave something like this?"

A blue glint crossed Tyler's eyes. He took a step forward, his gaze fixed on the object.

"My ball."

Josh blinked. "What?"

Tyler slowly extended his hand, covered by his usual gloves, almost hypnotized. "My ball," he repeated, his voice low, laden with nostalgia.

Josh held back a laugh. "You're ridiculous."

"You don't understand," Tyler said, not taking his eyes off it. "She... she's mine."

Josh just smiled.

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Josh was sitting on the edge of the bed, spinning the ring on his finger, the cold metal glinting in the dim light of the lamp.

"So, let me get this straight," he began, his tone slightly mocking. "You're telling me this ring here is like... a magical power outlet? You plug it in and power comes out?"

Tyler raised an eyebrow, impatient. "God, how are you so mundane? This is a gift."

He sighed, stepping closer and taking Josh's hand.

"This ring was passed down from witch to witch, generation after generation. It channels their energy, their emotions, their memories, their power. It's a living inheritance."

Josh watched him, suspicious but unable to hide his fascination. "Okay, but... I'm not even a witch."

"Technically, you're a direct descendant. That's enough."

"So what does the ring do, exactly? Cast spells by itself? Teach me to fly? Wash the dishes?"

Tyler chuckled lightly, with that corner-of-the-mouth smile. "None of that. It responds to will. And you, even if you deny it, have plenty of will."

Josh spun the ring on his finger. "The will to sleep for three days."

"Perfect," Tyler said, completely serious. "But before that, let's test something."

"Test?"

"Yes. You're going to cast a spell."

Josh's eyes widened. "What?! I don't know how to cast any spells, Tyler!"

"Of course you do," he replied calmly. "It's in your blood."

Tyler took a step back and pointed to the wooden wardrobe in the corner of the room.

"Let's see if this ring still recognizes the Moonwell lineage. Point over there and repeat after me."

Josh huffed. "Oh, great, and what if I set the room on fire?"

Tyler smiled mischievously. "Then I'll call the fire department. Or summon rain. Whatever."

Josh rolled his eyes and stood up, extending his right hand, the ring gleaming in the light.

"Alright, Merlin on duty, teach me magic."

Tyler lifted his chin theatrically. "Repeat after me: Ignis revelare voluntatem cordis."

Josh blinked. "Is that like... 'abracadabra' in Latin?"

"More or less. Now shut up and say it."

Josh took a deep breath. "Ignis revelare voluntatem cordis!"

At that instant, the ring pulsed warm.

A red flame erupted from nowhere, cutting through the air in front of him and spreading like liquid silk.

The fire didn't burn; it danced.

The flames curved and disappeared, leaving a golden glow suspended for a few seconds.

Josh took a step back, his heart racing. "Heavens! Did I do that?! Did I do that?! Oh my God, I-"

Tyler was looking at him, looking a little... surprised?

"Open the wardrobe," he said, satisfied.

Josh approached carefully, his hand still trembling, and pulled the doors open.

Inside, the wardrobe was now full of a different kind of clothing.

New shirts, knitted sweaters in shades of wine and gray, leather jackets, well-tailored pants, elegant boots.

All in his size.

All perfectly aligned.

"But... how...?"

Tyler crossed his arms, proud, and gave that smug little smile.

"The ring responded to who you are. It created what it thinks represents you."

Josh touched one of the sweaters. The fabric was soft, expensive.

"I... represent catalog clothes?"

"You represent someone who's finally going to stop looking like a hobo," Tyler replied, satisfied.

Josh turned to him, still unsure whether to laugh or freak out. "Are you proud of me?"

Tyler pretended to think. "Maybe a little."

"Wow. That's almost a compliment coming from you."

"Don't get used to it, puppy."

Josh laughed, leaning on the edge of the bed, looking at the ring again.

"This is... incredible. I actually did magic."

Tyler nodded, leaning against the wall. "Simple spell. But, for a rookie, not bad."

Josh looked at him with a smile he couldn't hide. "Seems like you're a good teacher."

Tyler looked away, but the corner of his mouth betrayed his pride. "I try."

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Time in Hollowcreek didn't pass; it flowed, as if the days melted into one another.

And just like that, the month of June was gone.

A month had passed since Josh had arrived, and somehow, his routine with Tyler had started to make sense… or the closest thing to "sense" one could call it when living with a former talking cat, a magical basement, and a house watched by crows all day long.

During the day, Josh busied himself with the ordinary world.

He went into town, talked with Debby at her shop, and carried too many bags for someone who lived with a man who claimed to subsist on "light and disdain."

The kids always stopped him on the way, Kenton showed him new monster drawings, Mel gave him wilted flowers she said "suited his face," Val just smiled at him.

Sometimes, Amy showed up by chance.

Always nervous, always looking around as if time were something physical that could catch her.

They talked quickly, but enough for Josh to feel she was keeping a secret.

On one of those occasions, he ended up inviting her for coffee at the mansion "sometime soon."

She smiled, half scared, half curious, and promised to think about it.

At night, the world changed.

The mansion breathed.

Josh heard footsteps in the hallways, creaking doors, voices that came from the walls.

But every time he tried to listen, the sound vanished.

"Maybe it's a rat," he'd say.

"For his own sake, I hope not," Tyler would retort.

Josh just decided to ignore it.

Between one spell and another, the fights lessened.

Josh learned not to scream when red fire escaped his fingers, and Tyler learned to laugh instead of mock (most of the time).

The magic training turned their room into a battlefield scented with coffee and sarcasm.

Agnes's grimoire became Josh's new addiction; he read it late into the night, the notes in ink reflecting in his eyes like constellations.

Tyler pretended not to care, but watched in silence.

Sometimes he smiled, sometimes he frowned.

And so, between poorly cast spells, muffled laughter, and noises that only Tyler seemed to hear, the house began to change.

The candles lasted longer.

The hallway mirror no longer reflected only what was in front of it.

And the night wind began to call both their names.

Amy's visit happened on an afternoon of clear sky, a rare thing in Hollowcreek.

Josh wiped the table twice, as if dust dared to appear with Tyler around.

When the doorbell rang, he almost tripped over his own feet.

Amy was standing at the door, her floral dress swaying in the wind.

She looked at the mansion as if facing a castle that only existed in legends.

"My God… this is… huge."

"It's older than it looks," Josh replied, half laughing, half nervous. "But it has its charm. Want to come in?"

The sound of her boots echoed on the wooden floor as she crossed the foyer, her eyes shining at every stained-glass window, every corridor with ancient portraits.

"It feels alive," she murmured, almost to herself.

"It is," said a voice from the living room.

Tyler appeared leaning against the doorframe, his body covered by a fitted black shirt and satin gloves that shimmered in the window light.

His dark hair was slightly messy, his gaze that curious amber tone.

Josh cleared his throat. "Ah, this is Tyler. Tyler, this is Amy. A friend."

Tyler approached slowly, extending his gloved hand.

"A pleasure, Amy."

She hesitated for a second, then shook his hand. The touch was cold, too soft to be real. "You wear gloves... inside?" she asked, intrigued.

"Habit," he replied, a half-smile escaping. "Some touches burn more than others."

Amy laughed, not really understanding, and Josh just rolled his eyes.

Lunch was peaceful, or almost.

Tyler had insisted on making the sauce, claiming Josh's "cooking was a curse."

The table was set with suspicious elegance, folded napkins, glasses, even candles.

Amy complimented everything, and Josh felt proud even though he knew half of it was Tyler's magic.

"So you two live here alone?" she asked, curious.

"Technically, yes," Josh replied, cutting his meatballs.

"But with him," Tyler added, "solitude is a relative concept."

Amy smiled, amused, when a loud sound echoed from the front door.

A sharp knock.

Josh stood up. "Who could that be?"

He barely opened the door and the woman entered, her red hair tied up haphazardly, her gaze assessing everything like someone inspecting an enemy.

"Joshua! I thought I'd stop by to see how you're doing." The smile was that of a visitor, but the voice tasted like poison.

Amy stood up, polite. "Hi, nice to meet you, I'm Amy."

"Ah," said Debby, her eyes looking her up and down. "The visitor." The tone was sweet, but the look was sharp.

Tyler crossed his arms. "We have a policy against scaring guests here."

She turned to him with a fake smile. "Ah, Tyler, always so… protective."

"And you're always so… inconvenient."

Josh cleared his throat, trying to disguise the embarrassment.

Amy watched everything in silence, clearly uncomfortable.

Debby walked around the room, her eyes roaming over the details, until she stopped at the fireplace.

"Seems the house has come back to life," she said, icy. "Interesting."

"Houses reflect who lives in them," Tyler replied, leaning his elbow on the chair. "Some flourish. Others… rot."

Debby's smile hardened.

Josh nearly choked on his wine.

Amy looked down, trying to avoid the tension, but Tyler stood up and broke the silence with rehearsed lightness. "Want to take a walk in the garden, Amy? Before the air in here becomes unbreathable."

Amy blinked, surprised, then nodded. "Sure."

They went out together through the back, the sun hitting the colored windows.

Josh stayed in the living room with Debby, amidst the smell of wine and tension.

Debby observed the place like someone evaluating an ancient secret disguised as furniture.

The smell of food still hung in the air, and the sun streamed through the windows in golden bands.

"So," she said, settling into the armchair, her hands folded on her lap. "How are things, Joshua?"

Josh smiled, trying to sound casual. "Good. The house... it's more alive than ever, I think."

"Alive." She repeated the word as if tasting something bitter. "And any news?"

Josh looked away. "Ah, just the usual. Trying to get everything in order, you know? Nothing much."

The silence that followed was almost palpable.

Debby tilted her head slightly and let her gaze slide down to his hand.

The silver ring gleamed in the light.

A small, enigmatic smile appeared on her lips.

"I see."

Josh felt his stomach tighten, not knowing why.

"And your sleep?" she asked next, her tone too light for someone who wasn't genuinely curious.

"Better... I think. It's still strange. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night with noises, but Tyler says it's all in my head."

"Ah, Tyler," she murmured, without emotion. "Always with ready answers."

Josh laughed nervously. "Yeah, he has a talent for that."

"Do you still hear voices?"

He hesitated. "Yes. And... there are too many crows around here. It's like they follow me."

Debby nodded slowly, as if that merely confirmed something she already knew.

"That's not good."

"Do you think the house is really haunted?"

"Not haunted. Too open." She stood up, her voice lowering to almost a whisper. "But I've been preparing a potion for that. A simple spell. It will seal the house's energy. Make everything calm... silent. That way you'll finally be able to sell this place."

Josh looked suspiciously at Debby, but nodded and said, "Thank you, Debby."

She smiled and moved closer, her eyes gentle again, too gentle. "You've always been a good boy, Joshua. The kids miss you, you know?"

He laughed softly. "I miss them too."

"Then go visit them more often," she said, and raised her hand to touch his face. The gesture was delicate, maternal... but cold, like a warning masked as affection. "You need to take care of yourself."

Josh opened his mouth to respond, but the sound of something hitting the front door made him turn sharply.

Tyler was leaning against the doorjamb, his eyes fixed on Debby.

Debby slowly removed her hand from Josh's face, the smile returning to its place. "It was good to see you, dear."

She turned to Tyler, her gaze sharp. "See you later, Tyler."

"Unfortunately," he replied with a slight nod.

She just laughed, crossing the foyer until she disappeared through the door, the sound of her heels echoing on the old floor.

Josh remained silent, his heart still racing, not quite understanding why the air in the house felt heavier since she entered, and even heavier after she left.

Outside, only the sound of owls.

Tyler broke the silence, crossing his arms.

"Potions, smiles, and promises. Always the same perfume."

Josh looked at him, confused. "You talk like you know her."

Tyler looked away, his voice low. "Maybe I know the type."

"Amy?"

"She left." He passed by Josh and, with a hand on his shoulders, said: "I'll be waiting for you in the bedroom, kiddo."

Josh gave a weak smile, but the air of concern was still there, and the doubt screaming in the back of his head.

How did Debby know he intended to sell the house?

Josh stood for a while in the empty living room, just the crooked ticking of the clock. Then came a scream from upstairs, not of fear, but of pure indignation.

He took the stairs two at a time. The door to Tyler's room was wide open. The man was standing in the doorway, motionless, shoulders tense.

Josh rested his chin on Tyler's shoulder. "What is it?"

They both looked at the same time.

On top of the impeccable bed: a rat. Tiny, round ears, twitching whiskers, little paws planted on the sheet as if it owned the place.

Tyler spoke slowly, with calculated disgust. "I knew you were lurking around the house."

Josh blinked, confused. "Why so angry? He's kinda cute."

The rat raised its two front paws in total surrender. "This... feigns innocence," Tyler concluded dryly.

Silence. The rat stared at the two of them. Then, it sat down. And peed on the bed.

Tyler's eyes widened, betrayed. "You dared…"

His irises ignited in a cold flame blue. The air became static. He raised his hand and began tracing something in the air; the blanket shuddered.

The little rat squeaked, a thin, pure desperation sound.

"Hey! Calm down!" Josh jumped forward, interrupting the gesture. "Don't even think about it!"

Tyler growled. "Get out of the way, puppy. This is war."

"War my a-- come here, little one," Josh whispered to the rat, extending his hands. "I promise no one fries you today."

The little creature hesitated for two seconds, then ran straight into Josh's palm, its little heart hammering fast. Josh carefully tucked it into his jacket pocket.

Tyler lowered his hand, glaring. "You just protected a domestic terrorist."

"He's a guest without a reservation. I'll handle it."

"He urinated on my sheet."

"He was nervous… it happens."

"Does it happen with you too? Because if it does, I'm evicting you." Tyler said with narrowed eyes.

Josh ignored him, left the room looking for something. He found a shoebox in the hallway closet. Lined it with a clean flannel cloth, put in a bottle cap of water, some breadcrumbs, and a tiny piece of cheese he brought from the kitchen.

"Done, executive suite," he said softly, placing the little rat inside. The creature turned around three times, tucked its snout into the flannel, and closed its eyes. Total peace.

When he finished, Josh entered the bedroom. Tyler was sitting on the edge of the bed, arms crossed, looking like he was going to write a complaint to the local newspaper.

"Solved," said Josh. "He'll sleep in the closet. Tomorrow I'll figure out what to do."

Tyler didn't even blink. "Congratulations. You now run a hotel for pests."

"What should we name him?"

"How about Garbage?"

"Oh c'mon Tyler..."

Josh took off his jacket and turned off the light. He burrowed under the covers, expecting that usual second of comfortable silence. Tyler didn't move.

"Come here," murmured Josh, softly. Pouting a little. "Good night."

Nothing.

"Tyler?"

The voice came dry, crystalline. "Not tonight."

"What?"

"I'm not touching you while you're filthy with rat." Tyler turned his face away, dignified.

"Mangy dog I can handle. Leptospirosis, no."

Josh lay looking at the ceiling in the dark, half laughing, half offended. "You're dramatic."

"And you're unbelievable."

"Good night, your highness of the duvet."

From the closet, a happy little squeak answered from the shoebox.

Tyler huffed. "If that tailed gnome snores, I'll explode him with my mind."

Josh smiled into his pillow.

The clock missed a tick. The room fell quiet. And, despite the royal fit, Tyler ended up pulling the blanket over to Josh's side… without touching him. A centimeter of pride between the two. An abyss, in Tyler's case.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

Josh had never imagined someone could physically be so glued to another body as Tyler was that morning.

He took a look around the room.

The light streamed through the curtains, golden and slanted, touching the walls. The air was light, almost strange for that place which, by habit, always seemed to be in mourning for something nobody quite remembered.

He untangled himself from Tyler and went to take a much-needed hot shower. When he returned to the room, Tyler was sitting in the armchair by the window, his body relaxed, but his face irritated like someone who hated waking up. His hair fell over his shoulders, his amber eyes half-closed.

"You're insufferable in the morning," Josh said, his voice hoarse, trying to disguise his smile.

"You're the one who talks too much before noon," Tyler replied, dragging his words, his mouth in a crooked line that was almost a warning.

Josh stretched, the necklace warming slightly against his chest. He ran a hand through his hair and looked at Tyler in the mirror.

"I made plans with Debby to go into town today. She said she can help with the house."

Tyler let out a low sound, something between a laugh and disdain.

"Ah, of course. The sweet herbalist. There's nothing wrong with the house, Josh. It's just old."

Josh ignored him. "I just want to sort this out quickly and get out of this mess."

Tyler arched an eyebrow. "I'm coming with you, just to make sure you don't try to banish me too."

Josh grabbed his jacket and keys. "Leaving the house for me? What's this now?"

Tyler sighed loudly, getting up slowly. "It's just that if I leave you alone, you'll probably befriend danger and offer it coffee."

"Then come on." Josh smiled. "And try not to scare anyone today."

Tyler didn't answer, but he picked up his coat.

The town seemed more alive than in previous days. The sky was almost clear, and the central square of HollowCreek had a common shine, almost normal. The bandstand in the center was white, decorated with old ribbons from past festivals. Children played around it, the sound of laughter echoing through the air like something the town still remembered how to do.

They walked slowly, Josh looking at the buildings, the old facades. Everything seemed calm, but there was a different vibration, as if the ground held secrets. Tyler, beside him, walked unhurriedly, his eyes far too attentive for someone pretending disinterest.

Behind the bandstand, a different sound, hurried whispers, muffled laughter.

Josh signaled for Tyler to stop, but the other was already moving, curious.

The voices fell silent for a moment. "I told you I heard someone," a little voice whispered.

Tyler took another step, and his shadow covered the light. "You heard right!"

The scream that followed was sharp enough to make the pigeons in the square take flight. Mel, covered in red stains, stumbled back, dropping a small container in her lap, its contents spilling over her dress, dense and vibrant, reflecting the sun like fresh blood.

Josh froze. For a second, his heart raced, and he ran over to them.

"What is that?" he asked, trying not to sound desperate.

Val laughed nervously. "It's paint! Amy gave it to us!"

Kenton raised his hands, stained with paint. "For dyeing our hair. She said it was magical."

Tyler crossed his arms, shaking his head slowly. "Magical. Of course it is. Just a typical day in Hollowcreek."

He crouched down and ran his finger over a small red puddle, observing it silently, his narrowed gaze analyzing more than he let on.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk..." he murmured. "What a mess you've made."

Val, impatient, crossed her arms too. "Amy said it comes out after a few washes."

Josh crouched to look at the children's hands; the red was running down their faces and hands, staining their clothes. "Even so, you shouldn't do these things hidden from your parents."

Kenton looked away. Mel bit her lip, ashamed.

Tyler, on the other hand, seemed amused. He approached Josh, placed one of his gloved hands on his shoulder, and smiled in that insolent way of his. "It's fine. If needed, I can be very persuasive."

Josh looked at him, half confused, half exasperated. "Persuasive with whom, exactly?"

"With whoever needs it." Tyler replied, his voice soft, but the tone loaded. "You worry too much."

Josh sighed, gently pushing his hand away. "I'm going to Debby's shop. I want to get this sorted out quickly."

Tyler looked at the bandstand, then at the children, and finally at the sky. "Go. I'll stay right here. Places that smell of sage and dubious intentions never agreed with me anyway."

Josh took a deep breath, trying not to laugh. "Good, I hope the children bring some lightness to your heart."

Tyler shrugged. "No promises."

Josh turned and followed the familiar path. Tyler stayed there, watching the children. For a moment, the wind blew and ruffled their stained hair. Tyler smirked.

Josh pushed the glass door and an old bell tinkled.

The smell hit him even before his eyes adjusted to the shop's gloom. It was sweet and earthy at the same time, a mixture of incense, dust, and cut leaves. The air felt dense, as if carrying memories.

Debby emerged from behind a shelf, smiling. She wore a light green dress and a scarf tied in her hair. Her hands were stained with something resembling damp soil.

"Josh! So glad you came."

She walked towards him with light steps, the sound of her shoes almost imperceptible. Josh followed her to the back, passing shelves full of jars, hanging herbs, and glass pots.

In the narrow corridor, the light was yellowish, almost smoky. Josh noticed plants growing everywhere, as if the shop had its own lungs. There were pots on the floor, on the furniture, even on the windowsills. 

He recognized almost none of them, but two caught his attention: leaves painted in pink and green hues that seemed to pulse faintly, and long, trumpet-shaped flowers, drooping like sleeping bells.

The necklace under Josh's shirt began to warm, and he swallowed dryly.

Debby stopped in front of a small table covered with jars, picked one up, and held it out. The liquid inside was purple, shiny, as if it had a life of its own.

"It's simple," she said, handing him the container. "Spread a little over the runes beneath the basement, and the house's energy will calm down. It's just… too open."

Josh observed the bottle, hypnotized by the reflection.

She then picked up a small, translucent bag with a powder that shimmered in pearlescent tones. She handed it to him carefully, her fingers brushing his for a second. "And sprinkle this where you feel threatened. It's protective. Neutralizes anything bad."

The space was small, and he accidentally bumped his elbow against something, which fell and broke.

"Darn it, I'm sorry, I can clean that up," he said, bending down to the floor.

"It's alright, dear, just leave it there, I'll take care of it."

Josh nodded, but her voice seemed too close. When he looked up, she was closer than he remembered, her face almost within a breath's distance.

The smell of the herbs was strong, and for a moment he felt something run up his spine, a shiver he didn't know was discomfort or fascination.

"Thank you, Debby," he murmured.

She smiled, but her eyes lingered on him for a second longer than necessary.

When Josh left, the doorbell tinkled again, and the air outside seemed different, colder, heavier.

The sky was clear, but on the edge of the rooftops, three crows watched him. One cawed loudly, another answered.

Josh clenched the bottle in his hand, the sound of the birds mixing with the beat of his own heart.

He tried to ignore it, but he swore the dark eyes of the birds were following him.

Josh walked in silence through the square; it was almost evening.

The air seemed suspended, almost still. The sound of laughter echoed near the bandstand, and he recognized Tyler's voice even before he saw him.

Tyler was leaning against a railing, his hair messy from the wind, laughing with Amy. There was something about the naturalness of that laugh.

Something that bothered Josh, perhaps because it was rare, perhaps because it seemed too light for someone who spent his days picking on everything.

He saw when Tyler, still smiling, touched her shoulder, and then reached out to remove an eyelash that had fallen on her cheek.

Amy thanked him quietly, and the simple gesture seemed too intimate.

The children were scattered around the bandstand, excited as always.

Mel was trying to hide her hands stained with red, Val was defending herself saying the idea wasn't hers, and Kenton was laughing with childish pride.

Amy, patient, helped wipe the excess paint from their hair with a damp cloth, not losing her good humor for a single second.

Josh stood there for a few moments, watching. The contrast between her, vibrant, alive, and Tyler, with that discreet smile and amused look, left him with an uncomfortable feeling.

He wasn't quite sure what it was anger, jealousy, or just the fear of being left out.

Amy noticed him and waved with an unpretentious sweetness. Josh walked over to them, feigning nonchalance.

"Looks like you all had fun," he said, his voice a bit scratchy in his throat.

Amy laughed. "It was just a little artistic accident."

Val, excited, showed off her hair, dyed red at the ends.

Josh smiled slightly, glancing sideways at Tyler, who was watching the scene with the same satisfied air of someone watching a performance.

"Good to see you again, Amy." The words came out calmly, but there was a weight in them he couldn't disguise.

"You too, Josh," she replied, still smiling.

Josh looked at Tyler again. The other man arched an eyebrow, with that lopsided smile that said everything without needing to speak.

"Shall we?" Josh asked, trying to sound indifferent.

Tyler gave one last look at Amy and the children, moving away with slow steps.

They walked together in silence for a while. The cool evening breeze was already beginning to descend from the hill, and the dry leaves rustled under their feet.

When they got home, they both entered and took off their boots in silence.

Josh fumbled with the keys in his pocket, distracted. "I'm going to check on the basement," he said, more to fill the silence than from any real intention to talk.

Tyler let out a short, humorless laugh. "Do that. I have better things to do."

Josh looked at him sideways, but the other was already moving on, hands in his pockets, his step lazy and his hair catching the last of the sun's reflection.

For a moment, Josh thought of calling him back, but gave up.

The necklace on his chest was warm again, and he didn't know if it was magic… or something burning inside him.

Josh descended the basement stairs slowly, the air growing colder with each step.

The weak light from the bulb swayed with the wind passing through the cracks, casting shadows that moved on their own on the walls.

He held the bottle Debby had given him, the purple liquid trembling inside, shining as if it had a life of its own.

Silently, he repeated Debby's process with the hidden passage and went down to that unbelievable place.

The floor was covered in symbols, runes carved long ago, now just faded marks on the rocks and dry mud.

Josh knelt before the largest one and pulled out the stopper. A sweet, metallic smell rose in the air. He hesitated for a second, remembering the warning: "spread it over the runes and everything will calm down."

With a sigh, he tipped the bottle. The liquid flowed slowly, seeping into the cracks.

That's when he heard it. A muffled sound, distant, like a heart beating somewhere under the earth.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Josh looked around, his chest tight. The sound wasn't coming from outside, it was coming from him.

And suddenly, the voices started.

"Please, Angelique… you know I won't be able to bear this without you…"

The voice was feminine, wounded, full of pain. Josh staggered back, the bottle falling from his hand and rolling on the floor.

"Agnes, I can't take it anymore… people are too cruel… I won't be able to bear it anymore…"

Another voice, trembling, like an echo of the first.

Josh put his hands over his ears, but they didn't stop. The words came in waves, each more intense than the last.

"Angelique, don't leave me!"

He fell to his knees, his whole body tense, hugging himself as if that could protect him from what he was feeling. A deep, ancient pain pierced through him, a sadness that wasn't his, but consumed him as if it were.

The floor vibrated. The runes began to glow, and from the central fissure, a purple light pulsed, alive, as if breathing.

Josh lifted his gaze, and for a moment he swore he saw the inside of the crater—something immense, luminous, covered in roots that moved slowly, like arteries.

The air grew heavy, and he felt all the hairs on his body stand on end at once.

That thing, whatever it was, was alive.

And now… awake.

Josh stumbled up the stairs, his heart beating too fast, the sound of the basement's heartbeat still echoing in his head. When he pushed the door shut behind him, he leaned against it, panting, as if the air upstairs was different, lighter, more alive.

The mansion was silent, except for the sound of cutlery and a low sizzle coming from the kitchen. Tyler was sitting at the dining table, perfectly composed, as if nothing in the world had any urgency.

He wore a black shirt, the first three buttons open revealing part of his pale skin, the pearl necklace reflecting the yellowish candlelight. In front of him, a plate of steak tartare, served impeccably, and a half-full glass of white wine.

Josh watched him from afar, his head tilted to the side, still trying to understand how this being could be so oblivious to the chaos.

Tyler looked up, assessing his state from head to toe, and raised his glass with elegance before saying, in a calm and slightly mocking voice:

"Sit down, puppy. Eat, and we'll train some of your magic to exhaustion tonight. I don't want any complaints."

Josh rolled his eyes, still panting. "You're a terrible host."

"And you're a terrible guest," Tyler replied, pouring wine into the empty glass in front of him. "Drink. You'll need it."

Josh ended up obeying. He ate in silence, the metallic taste of the meat mixed with the taste of fear still stuck in his throat.

When they finished, Tyler stood up, refilled his glass, and made a gesture with his hand. The dark-covered book on the sideboard flew to him and opened Agnes's grimoire.

The leather was worn, the edges burnt, and the double moon symbol gleamed faintly in the candlelight.

"Today you'll learn the basics," Tyler said, placing the grimoire on the table. "No summoning entities you don't understand. We'll start simple."

He turned the pages, the dry sound echoing in the silence of the house, until he stopped at one with golden handwriting. "Here. Lux minoris. It's for lighting small flames. And this one, Sana flamma, closes cuts. Useful if you keep tripping on the stairs like an idiot."

Josh watched, fascinated. The letters seemed to dance on the paper, as if breathing. "And does this really work?"

"It depends on the sorcerer," Tyler replied, placing one of his gloved hands on the book. "And on how much he believes in himself."

The training was slow, full of mistakes, sparks, and muffled laughter. When Josh finally managed to conjure a small red light that floated over his palm, Tyler leaned back in his chair and watched in silence.

"Interesting," he murmured. "Magic responds to you easily. It's as if it… already recognizes you."

Josh frowned, still practicing.

Between one Latin word and another, he casually let out, "What happened between my grandmother Angelique and Agnes?"

Tyler was silent for a moment, watching the wine swirl in his glass. When he spoke, his voice was lower, almost reverent.

"Through the generations, magic always chose one of the children. It was like an inheritance, but crueler. Angelique was the chosen one. At sixteen, frightened by the visions and the cruelty of the town, she ran away. She wanted to deny the gift, the weight, and the destiny that came with it." He looked Josh in the eyes, and the red of the candles reflected in his amber ones. "Agnes stayed. And she carried what should have been hers."

Josh fell silent, the necklace warm again against his chest, as if reacting to Angelique's name.

Tyler watched him, his face expressionless. "You understand now why you can't run from this, don't you?"

Josh looked away, the red light vanishing from his palm. "Yeah," he murmured. "But sometimes… I wish I could try."

He leafed through the grimoire carefully, his fingers tracing the edges of the yellowed pages. The air in the hall was heavy with incense and candlelight.

Between one training session and another, he skimmed over lines of ancient handwriting, whispering the sound of words he didn't fully understand.

"And this one?" he asked, pointing to a phrase written in dark ink. "What does this one do?"

Tyler was about to look up over his wine glass. "Don't read it out loud, Josh. I'm not in the mood."

But it was too late.

"Sectumsempra."

The sound of the word cut through the air. The wind blew strongly enough to extinguish three candles at once. For a second, nothing happened. Then, a crack, and another, and another, several times, like metal tearing through flesh.

Tyler brought a hand to his abdomen, his body buckling slightly, and let out a low, contained sound, between his teeth and his throat.

Josh dropped the book, his face paling. "My God, Tyler! I- I didn't know it would-"

"Are you… stupid?" his voice came out hoarse, almost a growl. He leaned on the table, panting, but didn't fall.

Josh took a hesitant step, trying to reach his arm, which was clearly dripping blood.

Tyler lifted his face and looked at him, a look that was pure hatred.

The amber eyes now glowed with a deep, intense blue, as if flames burned within. For a moment, the air around him seemed to vibrate.

The metallic smell disappeared, and when Josh blinked, the blood he had seen a second before… was simply no longer there.

Tyler straightened up, his face pale, but unharmed. The open buttons of his shirt revealed the skin where a cut should have been. He took a deep breath and adjusted his collar as if nothing had happened.

"You… you heal yourself?" Josh asked, his voice trembling.

"Among other things," Tyler replied coldly. "But you still need to learn to think before you open your mouth."

Josh tried to smile, relieved. "So… we're okay, right?"

"No," Tyler replied, without emotion. "You need to learn a lesson."

The air seemed to freeze between them. Josh opened his mouth to respond, but he didn't have time.

The knocks began.

Loud. Dry. Three at a time.

BANG BANG BANG

The front door echoed through the entire house, the windows rattling in their frames.

Josh looked at Tyler, the other was already standing, eyes sharp, body tense.

“Stay here,” Tyler said, and for the first time, his voice sounded like someone expecting the worst.

“I want you alive so I can kill you myself.”

Josh watched as Tyler walked toward the door, slowly pulling off his gloves. Blue smoke danced between his fingers, bright, alive, pulsing like a heartbeat.

Josh, of course, didn’t listen. He followed, steps light but defiant, until Tyler reached the handle.

When the door creaked open, cold wind rushed in, snuffing out half the candles in the hall.

Amy stood there.

Her hair was messy, her breathing ragged fear alive behind her eyes.

“Amy?” Josh’s voice cracked slightly. “What happened?”

She hesitated, words barely finding their way out.

“Tyler…” she whispered. “It’s Mel.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

The wind died, the candles smoked,

and Josh’s pendant burned against his chest.

Chapter Text

When everyone you thought you knew

Deserts your fight, I'll go with you

You're facing down a dark hall

I'll grab my light, and go with you

♩  ♪  ♫ ♬ ♩  ♪  ♫ ♬ ♩  ♪  ♫ ♬ ♩  ♪  ♫ ♬ ♩  ♪  ♫ ♬♩  ♪  ♫ ♬ ♩  ♪  ♫ ♬ ♩  ♪  ♫ ♬ ♩  ♪  ♫ ♬ ♩  ♪  

After much insistence, Amy fell asleep on the sofa when the clock struck three in the morning.

Her face was still tense, even in rest. Tyler, seated in the armchair beside her, watched in silence, his gaze lost on some distant point. Josh couldn't sleep.

The necklace burned lightly against his chest, and the sound of the wind outside seemed the same as in the basement, as if the house were breathing.

By the time the sun rose, they were already ready.

The road to Mel's house seemed longer than usual.

The sky was grey, the breeze cold, and Hollowcreek seemed quieter than it should be. No dogs, no children, no sounds of life. Just the crunch of their feet on the gravel.

When they stopped in front of the small white house, Josh looked at Tyler.

The other didn't move immediately, just observed the building, his body tense, his eyebrows furrowed.

"There's something wrong," he murmured.

Josh frowned. "You always say that."

"This time it's different." Tyler crossed his arms, his voice lower. "This whole town has always had a strange energy. Like it's a vortex, a hole waiting to swallow something. But now… it seems like it's started swallowing for real."

Josh tried to laugh, but the sound died before it left his throat. "You're saying Hollowcreek is… alive?"

"I'm saying it's waking up."

The silence between them grew heavy.

Tyler took a deep breath, stepped closer, and without a word, rested his gloved hands on Josh's shoulders, a light and careful touch. His eyes, for a moment, seemed less cold.

"Trust me," he said. "No matter what happens."

Josh just nodded.

Tyler looked away and raised his face to the sky, as if listening to something no one else could hear.

The wind blew the leaves on the trees, and a metallic noise sounded from somewhere nearby.

Josh looked at the lamppost just ahead. A crow watched him from above, motionless, its head slightly tilted. Another cawed in the distance.

He felt a shiver run up his spine.

Tyler slowly removed his gloves. His pale hands shimmered faintly, blue light breathing through the cracks between his fingers like smoke trying to escape.

Without another word, he turned, pushed open the door to Mel’s house, and stepped inside.

The sound of the hinges scratched through the quiet morning, the kind of sound that makes the air hesitate before following.

The smell hit first, lavender and metal, like someone had tried to clean grief out of the room.

Mel’s mother was waiting in the living room, her eyes red, her hair in disarray. The exhaustion on her face had depth, the kind carved only by long hours of fear that refused to end.

She led them down the narrow hall. The walls were covered with photos, paper edges curling from the humidity, colors washed to ghosts. Her hands shook as she clutched a handkerchief that had already lost the battle against her tears.

When the door opened, Josh’s chest tightened.

Mel was lying in bed. Her hair was scattered across the pillow like spilled ink, her chest rising and falling slowly, too slowly. Her skin was pale, almost translucent, her lips parted just enough to breathe.

On the nightstand beside her, her glasses rested on top of a half-open book, its pages crumpled and cornered as if she had fallen asleep mid-sentence. The red heart pendant on her necklace caught the faintest bit of light from the window, but it was dull, its color almost gone.

In her arms, a small sheep plush was pressed against her chest. One of its button eyes was missing, and a patch of fabric had come loose near the ear, the stuffing visible like a wound trying to close itself.

Josh’s eyes wandered. On the opposite side of the room stood an old wardrobe, its surface covered with taped-on drawings, dozens of them. Pencil lines, markers, smudges. A recurring figure: a tall man holding a torch, sometimes surrounded by smoke, sometimes by light. Underneath him, smaller white creatures appeared, big-eared, horned just barely. And beside the torchbearer, always the same shadow of a man looking at him.

Josh couldn’t tell if it was the same figure or a different one every time.

He stepped closer, the floor creaking beneath him. A low hum seemed to vibrate through the air, as if the drawings whispered to each other when no one looked.

Tyler sat on the edge of the bed and placed his bare fingers on Mel’s forehead. The blue light swelled softly, reflecting against the heart pendant, staining the air for an instant before fading.

Her mother’s voice broke behind them. “She just… fainted. Amy and I were having tea. She came running in, saying things I didn’t understand… and then she fell. She hasn’t woken up since.”

She pressed the handkerchief to her face. The sob that followed cracked the air in half.

Tyler rose and went to her. His hands were steady when they closed around hers, cold, but not cruel. His eyes locked onto hers. “Breathe,” he said softly. “She’s still here. She just needs to rest. It isn’t your fault.”

The blue glow flickered again, this time gentler, weaving calm into the room. The woman’s breathing slowed, her sobs softening until they became just tremors in the silence.

Josh watched from the doorway, his hands buried in his pockets. He didn’t know whether what he felt was awe or fear. Tyler looked human for a moment, and somehow that made him more frightening.

When they left the house, the air outside felt different, sharper, colder, filled with the smell of distant rain. Amy was waiting on the porch, shifting her weight nervously, her thumb tapping against her thigh.

“Well?” she asked.

Tyler looked at the ground before answering. “There’s magic there,” he said, voice low. “Ancient. I can’t decipher it yet. But it’s poisoning whatever it touches.”

Amy swallowed hard. “Could you see what happened?”

“No,” he replied. “Her mind is either protected… or contaminated. I couldn’t get through.”

Josh crossed his arms. “But you saw something.”

Tyler hesitated. “In her mother,” he murmured, finally.

Amy stared, waiting for more, but he only frowned, his gaze distant, as if chasing a thought he didn’t want to catch.

“She needs rest too,” he said at last.

And then he started walking away, his steps heavy, eyes fixed on the ground, shoulders stiff like he was holding back something that didn’t belong to him.

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Amy was still pale when they left Mel's house.

The cold wind beat against her face, and Josh noticed the girl's hands trembling slightly, even when she tried to hide it.

Tyler walked a few steps ahead, silent, his dark coat swaying in the wind.

When they reached the car, Amy stopped and took a deep breath. "I don't know what to do," she confessed, her voice low. "She was so full of life yesterday… and now…"

Josh placed a light hand on her shoulder. "You can't blame yourself. It's not your fault."

"But it feels like everything here is… wrong," she replied, looking at the cloudy sky. "As if the whole town is sick."

"Then come with me," Josh said suddenly. "Stay at my place today. We'll find a way to distract ourselves."

Amy looked at him, surprised, but exhaustion won out. "Alright. I guess I don't have anywhere else to go, anyway."

The three of them walked back towards the town center.

They stopped at a small market to buy some basics, bread, fruit, candles, more coffee. Josh separated from them, saying he had other errands to run.

When they met up again, Amy turned with a half-smile. "Need a ride to carry all that?"

Josh raised an eyebrow. "You have a car?"

Amy gave a small click of her tongue and pointed across the street.

A beautiful, old 1972 Ford F-250, blue, was parked there, with a brand-new leather bench seat and a keychain hanging from the rearview mirror.

Tyler looked at the vehicle and then at her, incredulous. "You're telling me you had this thing all this time and let us walk miles through town?"

Amy shrugged, her tired smile returning. "I figured you guys needed the exercise."

"Of course," Tyler murmured, rolling his eyes. "Modern sainthood has a sense of humor."

When they got to the mansion, Josh barely had time to open the gate. Tyler was already impatient, he snapped his fingers and, in seconds, the grocery bags floated in the air, carried directly to the kitchen in a perfectly coordinated parade.

Amy watched it all, enchanted, her eyes shining.

Josh crossed his arms. "Tyler!"

The other looked at him with irritation. "What now?"

"There's company."

Amy laughed, shaking her head. "At this point, Josh, I think it's hard for anything to really surprise me."

Tyler sighed theatrically, still making the objects levitate. One of the last things to land was the glass aquarium, which he spun in the air before letting it drop with controlled force onto the counter.

"Please tell me you didn't buy that for decoration," he said, his tone dry.

"It's for the rat" Josh replied calmly.

Tyler froze. "For the what?"

"The rat" Josh repeated, as if it were obvious. "He needs a decent home."

The aquarium began to tremble in the air, and Josh raised his hands in alarm. "Tyler! Easy!"

"You bought a glass palace for that tailed pest!" Tyler retorted, indignant.

Amy laughed loudly, leaning against the counter. "You two are a lost cause."

Josh tried to hide his smile. "Go on, put the aquarium down slowly."

Tyler huffed, rolled his eyes, and with a dramatic gesture, set it down gently.

"One day, Josh Dun, that creature is going to bring you more trouble than you can imagine."

"I doubt it," said Josh, giving the glass a light tap. "He seems to like me."

Tyler crossed his arms. "So do demons, apparently."

The afternoon fell lazily over Hollowcreek, and the mansion seemed more alive than normal.

The smell of chocolate came from the kitchen, mixed with the soft sound of Amy humming some unknown song as she washed fruit.

Tyler was in the living room, reading in silence, when he heard knocks at the door. He stood up with a dramatic sigh and went to answer.

On the other side stood Val and Kenton, the two of them huddled, their faces tense, but with that glint of curiosity in their eyes.

"You came alone?" Tyler asked, arching an eyebrow.

The two nodded silently, exchanging quick glances.

"Brave," he murmured, opening the door and stepping aside to let them in. "Or reckless."

Amy appeared from the kitchen, drying her hands on her apron. When she saw the two, she broke into a wide, welcoming smile.

"Oh, look who's here! Come in, come in! I made carrot cake, but Tyler's trying to pretend he doesn't want a piece."

"Lies," Tyler retorted without emotion, going back to the sofa with his book. "I just don't want sugar that tastes like guilt."

Amy laughed, shaking her head. "Ignore him, kids. He was born grumpy."

Val and Kenton relaxed a little at her gentle voice, approaching the counter. It was then that Val pointed with her chin at something on the counter.

"So… what's that?"

The glass aquarium shone in the afternoon light, with clean wood shavings, a tiny house, and even a little dish of seeds.

Before Amy could answer, footsteps sounded on the stairs.

Josh was coming down with a shoebox in his hands and a proud smile on his face. "Ah, great, you're just in time. I want to introduce the new resident here."

He reached the counter, opened the box, and carefully tipped its contents into the aquarium.

The little rat jumped out, sniffing the air, its nose twitching with curiosity.

Kenton took a step back, and Val wrinkled her nose.

"Ew" she said. "That's gross."

Josh shrugged. "He's clean. And a lot friendlier than some people."

Amy hid a laugh behind her hand. Tyler, however, just looked up from his book, observing the scene with pure boredom.

Josh tilted his head, watching the rat explore its environment. "What should I name him, huh?"

Val crossed her arms, thoughtful for a second. "How about… Garbage?"

Josh was immediately offended.

The rat stopped moving, looked at her, and let out a small, indignant squeak, as if it understood.

Tyler closed his book slowly, resting his elbow on the arm of the chair.

"As incredible as it may seem," he said, his voice calm and venomous, "I was thinking the same name."

Josh shot a murderous look at him. "You two are cruel."

Tyler stood up, straightening his shirt sleeves. "No. Just realistic."

Val stifled a laugh, following Tyler into the hallway.

The two stopped near the door and, in perfect sync, said: "Stupid rat."

The little rat raised its front paws and let out a high-pitched, offended sound.

Josh sighed, grabbing a small piece of bread and tossing it into the aquarium. "Ignore them, buddy. They don't know how to appreciate a good friendship."

Amy giggled softly. "If he starts talking, I won't doubt anything about this place anymore."

Josh looked at her and replied, with a tired half-smile: "Neither will I."

A week passed in a blur.

Time seemed to have stopped in Hollowcreek.

July dissolved into a white, heavy sky, and August arrived with cold winds that blew through the trees on the hill, howling like a warning.

Mel remained in the same state. Sleeping, breathing, but with no life in her eyes.

Debby visited her mother every day, bringing small potions, infusions, and bitter herbs. The smell of chamomile, mint, and rue seemed to follow her wherever she went.

She prepared the teas, said sweet words, and fed her with spoonfuls that seemed like affection and guilt at the same time.

Meanwhile, Josh watched time run as if he were trapped inside a broken clock.

The days blurred together, and his great-aunt's necklace grew warmer with each dawn.

He dreamed of voices whispering his name and always woke at the same time with the feeling that someone was watching him.

On the eighth sleepless night, he decided he needed to do something.

He needed to understand.

The next morning, he wrote a quick note for Tyler, who was sleeping peacefully.

Went into town. Be back in the afternoon.

But he didn't just go into town.

He went to Debby's shop.

She received him with the same sweet smile as always, but there was something different.

Perhaps it was her gaze… too sharp.

"Josh," she said, adjusting her apron with trembling hands. "I thought you'd given up on me."

"Given up?" he smiled slightly. "You're the only person here who seems to know what they're doing."

Debby let out a brief chuckle, but her eyes didn't smile along.

Hours later, they were at the mansion.

The sun streamed through the stained glass of the main room, casting colored spots on the wooden floor.

Debby turned slowly, looking at everything with a mix of fascination and melancholy.

"It's… different," she murmured. "The house has a presence. Can you feel it?"

Josh leaned against the staircase, crossing his arms. "I think I can."

"That's good," Debby replied, touching the banister delicately. "Old houses are like people. When they stop talking… it's because they're dying."

Josh looked away, unsure whether to laugh or worry.

They went to the library.

The air inside was dense, almost humid. The curtains were half-open, letting in a milky light that seemed to swallow the colors.

Josh turned on the lamp on the table. "So… what exactly are we looking for?"

"Anything about vital energy, ancestral magic, essence transfer," Debby replied, taking off her coat. "Or about what's killing the children."

Josh watched her for a moment. She seemed so sure, so convinced, her movements calculated, her voice calm.

He always wondered how she managed to maintain that control while everything around them seemed to be crumbling.

Debby ran her fingers over the books, reading the worn titles: *Lunar Protection Rituals, Bloodline Inheritances, Echoes of the Underworld.*

Josh picked up a thinner volume, its spine almost illegible.

"And this one?"

"Read the name."

"Daemonis Cordis," he read, stumbling over the Latin. "Heart of the Demon. Lovely."

"Lovely," Debby repeated, smirking. "But never open it."

Josh looked at her suspiciously. "Why?"

"Because I've already read it. And what has been seen once… never sleeps again."

He set the book aside carefully.

The sound of creaking wood echoed between them, and for a second, Josh swore the lamp flickered.

They spent hours there.

"Agnes read everything," Josh commented. "History, astrology, medicine… and magic, of course."

Debby ran her finger along the leather spines. "A fascinating woman, your aunt. They say she could even cure what had no name."

"Did you know her?"

She smirked. "Let's say I've heard stories. Many."

They leafed through books, jotting down passages, discussing ancient terms that seemed invented.

Josh tried to keep up, but most of the words seemed like another language.

"Do you understand all this?" he asked, leaning over her notebook.

"Not all of it," Debby replied. "But I feel it. Magic is a language before it's a sound. It's like breathing; if you think too much, you lose the rhythm."

Josh laughed nervously. "Sounds like something Tyler would say."

"Perhaps he's not as wrong as you think," she said, glancing at him.

The silence that formed afterward was thick.

Josh felt the necklace warm again, pulsing against his chest.

He tried to disguise it, adjusting his collar.

"Can I ask you something?" Debby said, breaking the silence.

"Sure."

"Do you really believe in all this? In magic, in seals, in… curses?"

Josh thought before answering. "I believe in everything I can see. And lately, I've seen too much."

"But believing," she insisted, "is surrendering. And to surrender, you need trust."

"In you?" he asked, half-joking.

Debby smiled slowly. "Perhaps."

Josh looked away, trying to hide his blush.

"Well… you seem to know what you're doing."

She took a step forward, her tone lower, almost a whisper.

"Not always what we know is what we should do, Josh."

The clock read five-thirty when Josh noticed the sun beginning to set.

He closed the book in front of him and stretched. "I think that's enough for today, huh? My head's going to explode."

Debby didn't answer.

She was standing in front of one of the highest shelves, her gaze fixed on something.

Josh felt the necklace grow so hot he had to move it away from his chest.

Debby noticed, her gaze fixing on the pendant.

"That necklace… does it always glow like that?"

"No." He lied.

"And when did it start?"

"After you gave me the bottle." He lied again.

"Interesting…" Debby said, her gaze sharp.

Josh looked and laughed nervously. The necklace kept glowing.

Debby didn't reply.

She just approached. The sound of her heels on the old floor was rhythmic and calm, but there was something unsettling about that calm.

She bent down slightly beside him, her body almost touching his.

"May I see?" she asked, her voice too low.

Josh nodded and held the stone between his fingers, offering it.

"This here," she murmured, "is a mark of protection. Ancient. Very ancient." She showed him a small symbol carved into the stone, almost imperceptible.

"Protection from what?"

Debby tilted her face, so close he could smell the herbs that always accompanied her. "It depends," she said. "Protection from what's outside… or from what's inside."

Josh tried to laugh, but the sound died in his throat.

Debby moved away gracefully, standing up.

"Have you tried opening the basement since that day?"

He shook his head. "No. After what happened, I preferred… to leave it closed."

"You did well," she said. "But at some point, you'll have to go back down there."

She began walking among the shelves, observing the books with attentive curiosity.

Josh broke the silence after a while. "Do you think what happened to Mel has something to do with this?"

"I don't think so, dear." She looked over her shoulder. "I know."

He stood still for a moment, not knowing how to respond.

Debby approached one of the corner shelves and ran her fingers along the edges, her eyes narrowing.

That's when she stopped.

The smile vanished.

"Josh," she called, her voice different, tense, sharp.

He went to her. "What is it?"

"Look."

An entire shelf was empty. No books. No trace, except for the lighter mark in the dust where they had been. It was as if someone had carefully removed everything.

"I swear this wasn't like this," Josh said.

"When was the last time you were here?"

"Last night. I left everything… the same."

Debby ran her hand over the clean wood, her face hardening.

"I don't like this."

"It's okay, maybe Tyler took–"

"Tyler wouldn't know what to look for," she interrupted him dryly. "And even if he did–"

Josh swallowed dryly, waiting for her to continue.

She looked at him, her eyes shining with an intense green hue.

"Someone is meddling with what they shouldn't," she said simply.

Silence returned.

The house seemed to be listening.

Josh looked around, feeling his heart race for no clear reason.

The curtains fluttered, though no window was open.

A book fell from the highest shelf by itself.

Debby didn't move.

"It's late." The sound of the voice cut through the silence like a blade.

Tyler was leaning against the doorframe, half-shrouded in the library's gloom, the weak lamplight tracing bluish lines on the contours of his face.

The clock read eight-thirty, but time seemed stagnant. No sound from the town, no wind, not even the rustle of the trees outside.

Only the sound of Josh's heart beating too fast in his chest.

Debby turned slowly. The dark green dress moved like a living shadow. "It's late?" she repeated, her tone too smooth to be genuine.

"For you, always." Tyler replied, taking a step inside. The air seemed to tremble.

Josh looked at him, not understanding where that silent hatred came from. Tyler rarely lost control.

But now, every word seemed like a spark about to ignite something.

Debby crossed her arms, assessing him with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I thought you didn't care what happens in this house."

"I don't," he said. "But it bothers me when parasites pretend to help."

Josh opened his mouth to intervene, but no sound came out. The necklace burned hot, to the point of scorching. He felt the same buzzing as the first time the basement "woke up."

Tyler and Debby kept staring at each other, as if the world had shrunk to that small space between them.

The light flickered. The lamp swayed.

Josh looked at the ceiling, feeling the air thin.

Tyler took another step. Debby stood firm, but the smile had vanished.

Energy accumulated in the air, an unseen force that made the papers on the table tremble.

"You don't belong in this place," Tyler said, and his voice was different, low, deep, almost inhuman.

"And you think you do?" Debby retorted.

The floor shuddered.

Dust from the books danced in the air.

Tyler raised his hand, and blue began to spread through his fingers like liquid fire.

Josh saw the light slide through the air and cling to the shelves, illuminating them. The blue pulsed, cold, but alive.

Debby sighed, tired, and extended her arm.

From her palms sprouted green branches, thin and long, crawling across the floor and climbing the walls. The sound was of roots growing in seconds, cracking the wood, snaking up to the ceiling.

"Stop!" Josh shouted.

But they didn't even hear him.

The blue and the green met in the middle of the room, creating a sphere of light and dust.

The books opened by themselves, pages turning as if wind were flipping through them.

Josh threw himself backward, protecting his face. The necklace on his chest shone brightly, intensely, as if wanting to respond to their energy.

A crack ran across the floor. The rug moved as if something alive were underneath it.

Tyler kept his eyes fixed on her, his jaw tense, his hair falling into his eyes.

Debby seemed to float, the branches growing around her body, a dense green aura emanating from her.

For a moment, Josh thought she was going to attack him.

But then, Debby blinked, and everything ceased.

The branches withered instantly, falling to the floor and turning to dust.

The blue dissipated, and Tyler gasped, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

"Enough," she said simply.

Her voice was calm, but her eyes… her eyes were full of something dark, as if they knew more than they let on.

She smoothed her hair, turned with elegance, and walked to the door.

Josh watched her in silence, still breathless, as she said:

"See you later, Josh. Take good care of your house."

And she disappeared down the hallway without looking back.

The silence left behind seemed heavier than before.

Josh looked around, the floor covered in dust, the pages still trembling, the light flickering.

The necklace suddenly cooled, and he realized the red glow had gone out.

"Tyler…" he murmured, turning around.

Tyler was still there, but his gaze was distant, his eyes slowly returning to their normal color.

Josh took a step forward. "What was that? Who–"

"It's time for bed."

The voice came out firm, dry, emotionless.

Josh blinked, confused. "What? Now? After–"

"Now," Tyler repeated, and all the shelves trembled again.

Books fell. The lamp went out. The air seemed to contract.

Josh froze.

When he breathed again, Tyler had already disappeared from the room.

He went up the stairs slowly, his heart still racing, his body light as if he were outside himself.

In the hallway, the sound of the wind seemed to whisper his name through the cracks in the windows.

The bedroom door was ajar, the weak moonlight passing through the glass and bathing the floor.

Blue and red reflected there.

Tyler was already there. Lying down. Facing away. Naked.

Josh stopped in the doorway for a moment, trying to decide whether to speak or pretend nothing happened.

The other seemed asleep, but the way his chest rose and fell betrayed contained rage.

Josh sighed, took off his t-shirt, and threw it onto the armchair.

Then he took off everything else and lay down beside him, the mattress sinking with his weight.

"You're terrible at goodbyes, you know?" he murmured.

Silence.

"And you're great with light shows too."

Nothing.

Josh moved closer, pressing his nose against the nape of Tyler's neck. He smelled of metal and wine.

"I'm still mad, you know?"

Tyler remained motionless, but Josh felt his body relax a little.

With a small smile, Josh dared to hug him, an arm slipping around his waist, saying nothing more.

For a while, the only sound was their breathing.

The world might be collapsing outside, but there, in that room, there was only the soft sound of Tyler's heart beating under his hand.

And when Tyler finally turned over, half-asleep, his arm pulled Josh back.

Neither of them said a word.

The silence was enough.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

Josh was walking.

Or thought he was walking. The floor beneath his feet made no sound, as if he were floating a few inches above it.

Everything around him was too white, too clean, so vast it hurt.

But the silence… the silence was what scared him most.

When he took his first step, something echoed like a distant crack, and the lights came on.

Thousands, millions of them.

Suddenly he was in a market. An endless market.

Aisles stretching beyond sight, shelves rising to the sky, stacked with products that had no name.

Empty bottles. Labels without letters. Packaging without color.

Josh walked slowly, trying to understand.

The floor seemed made of glass, and beneath it, a dark liquid moved, pulsing as if it were alive.

The air smelled of ozone, and each breath felt lighter, almost nonexistent.

He turned left, then right.

All the shelves were the same.

But the signs hanging from the ceiling began to change.

First, they were just symbols. Then, words.

YOU WON'T ESCAPE.

Josh stopped. The sound of his own heartbeat filled the silence.

He took another step. Another sign.

THERE IS NO WAY OUT.

Another.

GIVE UP.

The letters seemed to move on their own, pulsing, alive.

He started walking faster, his feet sliding across the smooth floor, his eyes trying to find a direction, any direction.

But the aisle never ended.

The light flickered, the air grew heavy.

Josh felt his legs grow weak, as if his body were no longer his. He no longer knew if he had been walking for minutes, hours, days.

Time didn't exist there.

And then, in the distance, he saw it.

A shadow.

Small, distant, moving slowly between the shelves. He tried to call out, but no sound came.

The shadow turned and began to approach.

First, with slow steps. Then, faster. Faster.

Josh backed away, stumbling, trying to run, but the floor seemed to grab his ankles.

The shadow grew, took shape. It had no face, but seemed to smile. And before he could react, it reached him.

The world went black. Everything turned dark.

And then, in the darkness, something glowed.

A room. Small.

Kenton was there.

The boy was sitting on the floor, his gaze empty, his skin pale as wax.

In front of him, an open book, and he was writing.

Without stopping.

The pen scratched the pages at an impossible speed, as if something were moving him.

Josh took a step forward. "Kenton?"

The boy didn't react.

He just kept writing, his eyes fixed on a distant point.

And then, the sound came.

First, a murmur.

Then, hundreds of voices.

Thousands.

All speaking at once, whispering words Josh couldn't understand.

The air vibrated. The pages of the book began to move on their own, as if breathing.

Kenton lifted his face. His eyes were no longer green.

They were white. Bright. Empty.

The book opened once more, and from it began to pour… names.

Names written in black ink that dripped from the pages like blood.

They rose, spread, began to cover the boy's body.

His neck. His face. His hands.

Josh tried to reach him.

But when he touched the air between them, everything dissolved.

The letters turned to ash.

The floor cracked under his feet.

And the darkness swallowed him.

He woke up.

With a start, his entire body drenched in sweat, his heart racing.

The cold pre-dawn air came in through the window, and the room was plunged in gloom.

The sound of fine rain against the glass was the only sign that the world still existed.

Josh breathed rapidly, trying to understand where he was.

The necklace burned, pulsing against his chest as if it had a heart of its own.

Then he felt the touch.

A firm hand on his shoulder. Cold. Real.

"Josh."

Tyler was beside him, eyes half-closed, hair messy, voice rough with sleep.

Josh turned, lips parted, still trying to find the words. The room seemed to spin.

"It's Kenton," he managed to say, panting.

Tyler was silent for a moment, his gaze sharp.

Then blue glowed faintly in his eyes.

"I know," he replied. "I felt it too."

The wind outside picked up, howling through the cracks in the window.

The house breathed.

And the night, once again, seemed to wake up.

Chapter Text

All my vices carry me

I'm easy prey for what satisfies me

If I love, I love so much it hurts

If I drink, I drink until I collapse in the bar bathroom

If I buy a piece of candy, I don't even suck on it

I just go ahead and crush it between my teeth

Cigarettes I don't smoke, I chew them up in one drag

If I'm not going to eat the entire pan of brigadeiro

I don't even bother

I live on excesses

When a sadness hits me

I always die.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

Josh couldn't sleep after the dream about Kenton. It wasn't just images; it was layers of silence stuck to his skin like dust.

When he closed his eyes, he saw again the aisle of endless shelves, the nameless lights, the empty bottles, and the sound of hundreds of voices whispering words that weren't words.

Awake, the room seemed too big. Asleep, it seemed too small.

He stayed in between, sitting on the edge of the bed, counting the beats of his own heart and trying to remember Kenton's face before everything turned white.

Tyler didn't say anything, just stroked his back for a while until he fell back asleep.

Dawn arrived slowly, first a cold gray slipping through the stained glass, then a sliver of light that crossed the carpet and climbed the wall, until it touched Tyler's profile.

Tyler seemed calm, but not entirely. Josh had learned to identify the other's false rest by the way his fingers clenched, even without gloves, as if holding something invisible.

When the ray of sun touched the curve of his shoulder, the gleam bounced back off the ring on the table, scattering a dot on the ceiling. Josh watched that dot pulsate. He thought of Agnes.

He thought of Debby.

He thought of Mel, motionless.

He thought of Kenton with colorless eyes, writing nonstop, and the book breathing.

The necklace against his chest warmed slightly, as if saying 'I'm here'.

And he just sat there in silence.

He got up when the staircase clock chimed six times, even though he wasn't sure if it was six or if time in that house had another way of marking hours. He put on yesterday's pants, a clean t-shirt over it, the hoodie over the t-shirt. Tyler opened his eyes as if he'd been awake for a long time.

"Still kinda dark," Josh said, tying his laces.

Tyler answered with silence. Just watched.

His silence weighed in different ways each day. That morning, it weighed like rain about to fall.

They went down together when the hallway grew brighter. The wood groaned under their feet, and the stained glass on the staircase cast blues and reds on the banister.

As he opened the door, the cold garden air came in smelling of wet earth, pine, and something metallic Josh couldn't name.

Amy was standing outside, leaning against her pickup truck, her denim jacket full of pins glowing faintly, like tired stars.

She lifted her chin in a short greeting. She didn't smile. Her eyes had entire nights piled up in them.

"Good morning," Josh said.

Amy nodded and opened the driver's door. The leather seat was new, but the truck still sounded like a memory of a Sunday fair. Tyler passed through the gate in silence, pulling on his gloves.

The three of them set off in silence. Hollowcreek was waking up less than usual. The trees along the road leaned a little more than they should, and some crows hopped from one pole to another as if it were all prearranged.

The sky looked like an iron lid.

Amy broke the silence with a low voice.

"Have they been following you too?"

Josh glanced at her, then at the rearview mirror, where a crow perched on a wire and watched them pass.

"Yeah."

She inhaled, her fingers drumming on the steering wheel, and continued.

"This town is way too creepy. Since I got here, I feel like something's been emptying me out. It's like I've aged two years in a few months. Sometimes I wake up and my hands feel different. My skin. The way the light touches me."

Tyler was looking out the window, his profile hard, attentive to some frequency the others couldn't hear.

When Amy parked at the curb on Kenton's street, Tyler got out of the car in silence and walked ahead.

He took off his gloves, opened the door, and then the hallway swallowed him.

Amy and Josh looked at each other like people checking if the other is also on the outside of the world.

"I'm going in," Josh said. "Is that okay with you?"

Amy forced a half-smile, one of those used to protect other people from one's own fear.

"Go ahead, kiddo. I'll hold down the fort out here."

The crows cawed in the distance. The sound scraped the air like a nail on glass.

Josh walked through the garden with slow steps, looking at the house with his hands in his hoodie pockets. The walls were low, painted an old beige that had once been more vibrant. The garden smelled of mint and cold water, and the living room curtain trembled, though there wasn't enough wind for that.

Kenton's mother was in the living room, her eyes red, an untouched cup of tea in her hands.

Someone was praying softly somewhere near the kitchen. When Josh entered, she lifted her face. Relief and distrust fought for space in her eyes.

"Good morning," Josh said, softer than he intended.

Tyler already had that expression he used when he put his whole body into a task.

The faint blue Josh had grown accustomed to seeing in the other's eyes hadn't appeared yet. Instead, an unusual attentiveness, like a cat sniffing a crack.

"We were waiting for you," Tyler said to Josh, without taking his eyes off the woman.

Josh swallowed dryly. On a table, some old photographs lined up told small stories.

A blond boy with crooked teeth holding a hockey stick, the same house in winter, a shaggy dog with cream-colored spots, the sun on a piece of wall.

Kenton's grandmother appeared from the hallway with something in her hand. Her white hair was in a bun, her simple dress with blue flowers. She said something Josh didn't understand, fast, liquid, like water over stones.

Tyler replied in the same language, in the same tone, and the sound of that dialogue relieved some tension Josh didn't even know he was holding.

It was Italian, Josh recognized by the rhythm and by two isolated words he'd heard in late-night TV movies. The grandmother nodded, crossed the room, and touched Tyler's forearm.

A dog came running from the hallway, her paws skidding on the waxed floor. She stopped in front of Tyler, gave a short growl, a low bark, her ears alert.

Tyler hissed, an almost silent sound, a line of air that didn't seem to fit in a human body. The dog took a step back, confused, undecided between aversion and curiosity.

"Callie," said a young, firm voice from the end of the hallway. Kenton's sister, Josh deduced, her features were similar.

She was wearing a large hoodie and her hair was in a ponytail. "What's with you?"

The scolding came gently, but sharp. The girl took the leash and led the dog out of the room, its tail still indecisive in the air. Josh felt very confused and overwhelmed; it was so much happening at once.

The grandmother made a gesture with her hand; the object Josh had seen looked like a golden necklace with a cross. She asked them to follow her.

She led them down the narrow hallway, past walls with family portraits from various eras. There was an old diploma with gold letters, a small crucifix, and a yellowed poster of a youth team, boys with round cheeks and scraped knees.

They stopped in front of Kenton's door. The grandmother touched the wood with her fingertips, murmured more Italian, and pushed.

The room smelled of clean laundry that hadn't seen the sun for days. The window let in a pale, insufficient light, creating a pasty half-darkness in the air.

Josh noticed the King Kong poster tacked above the desk, almost new, with the recent title, the gorilla silhouetted against a sky full of clouds, holding Jessica Lange in one hand and a military jet as if it were a toy in the other.

The edges glimmered in the faint light, and one corner was starting to peel off the wall.

On the shelf, a hockey helmet with scratches and duct tape, two blade skates resting like a pair of birds at rest, two hockey sticks leaning, a crumpled water bottle.

On the nightstand, next to the unlit lamp, a photo of Kenton smiling. On the frame, someone had drawn a heart in blue pen.

Kenton was lying in bed, covered up to his waist, his white t-shirt rising and falling very slowly. His face was smooth, too smooth, and his dark eyelashes cast shadows on his skin. He looked asleep. It wasn't sleep. It was a pause in time.

Josh knelt beside the bed. He lowered his face to the pillow, where the smell of shampoo mixed with dust and something cold.

He ran his hand through the boy's hair, slowly. He felt a foolish urge to shake the world until things went back to the place they were before they started breaking.

"I failed you," he said, not realizing he had spoken aloud.

Tyler touched his shoulder. It was a factual touch, measured, like placing a glass on a table. Josh moved half a step away.

Tyler took off his gloves, one, then the other, folding them like someone folding memories.

He sat on the edge of the bed, pressed the tips of his fingers to the boy's forehead.

The blue appeared, but dim, like fire under glass. It reflected throughout the room.

Josh held his breath without meaning to.

"Clouded mind," Tyler said, almost to himself, but in a way Josh could hear. "Poisoned. There's something spread here. It won't open. It won't let me in."

Josh nodded, his heart blowing against his ribs from the inside. The room from the dream and this room overlapped, and for a second, Josh saw the shelf extend to the ceiling of the impossible market, and the nameless lights flicker in the corners.

He staggered back and leaned against the closet behind him.

"It's this room," he said, more firmly. "It's exactly this one. In the dream, he was here, sitting on the floor. Writing. The book was…" He bent down in an automatic movement, as if obeying a memory. "Here."

He slid his arm under the bed, his fingers feeling for dust, a lost screw, a coat button.

When his fingers touched paper and leather. He pulled.

It was a thick notebook, dark cover, corners rounded from use. A diary. There was a sticker with a drawn target stuck on the side.

A label with the school's name, the name space filled with a boy's handwriting and a signature trying to be an adult's.

Josh opened it to a page in the middle. Ordinary things. Practice notes, a shopping list, a drawing of a pink-haired girl playing the piano. He felt the immediate urge to stop.

He closed it again, squeezing his fingers on the cover.

"It's personal. I'm not going to read it."

He turned to the last pages, just to check if there was anything beyond the everyday left there.

The last few pages seemed drawn by another person. Nervous scratches, intersecting lines, symbols that weren't any alphabets Josh knew.

Some circles with overflow, mixed letters that, if looked at quickly, seemed to move. The pen lines had different depths, as if someone had pressed too hard, as if the ink wanted to pierce the paper.

"Tyler," Josh said, holding the diary like someone holding an animal that might bite.

Tyler looked up, and for a moment, was in total concentration.

He placed his hand on the cover, very cautious, almost touching it with the air before actually making contact. When his fingers finally touched it, he shuddered all over, as if a current passed from the paper to his bones.

He recoiled so fast that his foot hit the bedpost. The blue vanished and left a void that glowed for a moment, like heat rising from asphalt.

"No," he said, and the voice came from a place Josh knew little about. "No. I haven't felt that in a long time."

Josh tilted the diary against his leg, the cover pointing down, fear and curiosity fighting inside him. He needed to understand. He needed to find some point of light to put his hand on.

"What is it?"

Tyler didn't answer immediately. He looked at the window, at the lamp, at the skate blades, as if all the objects had a word to say and he needed to choose which to hear first.

"The same thing that's spread around," he said finally. "But condensed. A remnant of something big, trapped inside here. Like smoke that hasn't found a crack."

Josh took a deep breath. He thought of Mel. He thought of Amy at the steering wheel, and what she had told him.

He thought of his own body, the interrupted nights, the necklace that burned like a fever that neither worsens nor improves, just exists.

"I need to save the children," he said, and the thought opened inside him like a book being ripped in two.

It wasn't just Kenton or Mel. There were other names he didn't know yet, ownerless voices that already weighed in the air, empty gym mats and leaned-up bicycles and blackboards with incomplete roll calls. He needed to find a thread. He needed to find a way.

Tyler was already getting up.

"We have to leave here now."

Josh looked at him like someone facing a mirror that doesn't reflect the same image.

"Now?"

"Now."

He hesitated. The diary weighed in his hands with the exact weight of an object that doesn't want to be let go. The impulse was to put it back, exactly as it was, with the spine facing the wall.

The tension in his neck said Tyler was hiding things from him.

The tension in the room said any extra movement would make the air scream. Josh turned to the hallway to go first. He took two steps, three, and noticed the wrong silence behind him. He stopped. Turned his head. Tyler hadn't followed him.

Josh returned to the bedroom door.

Tyler had his back to him, paralyzed, one shoulder a little higher than the other, as if holding his breath. His gaze was no longer on the boy, nor the window, nor the poster.

It was fixed on the nightstand.

Josh followed the axis of that gaze until he found the object.

A red beanie. Simple, made of thick wool, a faded red. It had a fold near the edge and a pulled thread forming a small, disobedient arch.

Tyler looked like a statue that had just learned to breathe and decided it was better not to.

Josh recognized in him something he only saw when the other woke in the middle of the night and took a second too long to remember he had a human body. It was fear. Fear in its pure state, hanging in the air like a smell.

He reached out his hand, too slowly. Touched the edge of the beanie with his fingertips, as if testing the temperature of a bath. Then he picked it up for real. Brought it to face level.

He slid his fingers over the texture until he reached the core of the wool, where the weave was softer. He looked inside.

The tremor started there, very subtle, at the corner of his mouth, and went down to his wrist, and then spread. The next second, Tyler shoved his hand inside the beanie.

First slowly, then hurriedly, like someone feeling around a pocket where they believe they left a talisman.

Josh took a step forward. "Tyler."

The other jumped an inch, as if the name pulled his body back to the ground. The beanie lowered, his fingers stopped.

"It's time for us to go," Josh said, with a calm he didn't have and borrowed from somewhere.

Tyler nodded.

He passed by him quickly, without touching him, and crossed the hallway like someone leaving a room where they heard their own name spoken from the wrong side of the wall.

Josh watched his back until he disappeared into the bend of the living room. He looked at the room one last time.

The King Kong poster seemed darker. The skate blades glowed and went out like eyes. The light in the window pretended to be normal. The nightstand was clean.

The beanie was no longer there.

Josh closed the door slowly and felt the click of the lock like a poorly placed period.

He walked back through the house, the hallway now narrower, the wall closer to his shoulder. When he entered the living room, Tyler was standing before Kenton's grandmother. She was holding both of his hands, now gloved again.

She was speaking in Italian, a rough and sweet song. Words Josh didn't understand, but which hit a place in the body where no language was necessary.

Tyler was smiling like a child. Not the smile Josh had known until then, made of a quirked lip and a blade behind the teeth. It was another. A smile open on the calm face of someone who, for one exact minute, didn't remember any dark place.

The grandmother took a small package from the sideboard. A checkered cloth wrapped something carefully. She tied two ends with a knot. Handed it to Tyler with both hands.

Tyler leaned close to her, brought his mouth to her ear. Whispered something Josh didn't hear.

The old woman's sigh was that of someone receiving news and nodding in agreement with life itself. Her smile grew, accumulating light in the wrinkles around her eyes.

She blessed him with an ancient gesture and let him go. Tyler took a step back, holding the package against his chest as if it were both fragile and heavy at the same time.

He met Josh's gaze unintentionally. There was something liquefied in that look, one half asking to stop and one half asking to run.

Kenton's mother thanked him with a voice that hadn't been used since yesterday. The sister appeared again in the hallway, the dog halfway, this time without a growl, just ears high, neck tilted.

Josh touched his pocket.

"Let's go," he said, and the word was less an invitation than a bridge.

They went to the door. The hallway was left behind faster than it should have been. The light from outside came in with the smell of rain and metal. The crows kept their distance but didn't give up.

Amy was at the wheel, her hands on the rim, her eyes on nothing and on everything.

They got in. The truck started on the first try. Tyler placed the package on his lap, his hand on top, his fingers still. The road pulled the house behind them like a ribbon.

Josh looked in the rearview mirror, out of habit, and faced the house one last time before sighing, defeated.

The way back was too long. Amy drove slowly, the tires drawing noises on the damp curves of the road.

No one said anything. The air inside the truck seemed thick, as if the words had been dissolved in smoke and no one knew the formula to bring them back anymore.

Hollowcreek passed by outside with its arched trees, its swaying power lines, its guard crows on the poles.

The sound of the engine was the only thing reminding the trio that the world was still moving.

The mansion appeared at the top of the hill. Amy parked in front of the gate and, for a moment, no one had the courage to open the door.

Tyler was the first to get out. Then Josh. Amy came last, her hands shoved in her pockets, her eyes heavier than her body.

They entered. The echo of their footsteps spread through the hallways and rose to the ceiling, getting lost in the stained-glass frames. The house seemed to watch them, silent and expectant, as if waiting to hear a verdict.

They gathered in the main room. The same red and blue stained glass tinted the walls with a tired light. Josh stood still for a few seconds, looking at the floor. He took a deep breath before speaking.

"I can't understand, I don't get why this is happening," Josh clutched his necklace, looking anguished at the portrait of his great-aunt.

Amy sat on the arm of the sofa and fiddled with the ends of her braids, not really looking at him.

When she spoke, her voice was low and dry. "It's not just Mel, or Kenton. There are other sick kids. The families are terrified, they're talking about canceling the return to school because of the panic. It's stopped being just a rumor."

Josh looked up and saw the reflection of the stained glass tremble on her face. The silence that followed tasted like rust.

Tyler, leaning against the window ledge, seemed too distant. When he finally broke the silence, the question came sharp.

"And do you still plan on leaving like you said?"

Josh didn't answer. His locked jaw was answer enough. He felt it as a provocation.

Tyler kept staring with a cold gaze.

"You think I don't notice, Tyler. You've been hiding things, you think you're clever, but your arrogance could cost us dearly."

Tyler opened his mouth a few times but fell silent.

"You need to trust us, Tyler. Whatever is happening here is already out of control."

"It's not that simple. This is ancient stuff, ancestral magic. I've never felt it so concentrated before. I've never felt so terrified." Tyler touched his own arm and looked away, apprehensive about exposing himself like that. "It's... it's hard to explain."

"Then at least try."

"There was something in the people, not just the children. It was hunger. It took the youngest more fiercely, but somehow it was already rooted in the adults. I felt it when I touched them. It was like a disease of old age, touching their bodies, their bones, feeding on them, slowly digesting them. I saw something consuming them little by little. It was terrifying. I couldn't do anything. I felt powerless." Tyler hid his face in his hands. "Centuries of practice, studying and perfecting myself, and it's all useless, because I can't do anything now."

Amy looked at him with pity and impatience, like someone who knows what the other feels but can do nothing.

Josh spoke again, louder.

"There has to be a way. These gifts, all of this... it can't be for nothing." The anger rose along with the desperation, and the necklace around his neck responded with a brief heat. "I don't want to run anymore. Something needs to be done. Now!"

Tyler watched him expressionlessly. The air around him seemed to vibrate. There was a spark in his eyes, a flash mixing pride and doubt.

He left the room without a word and returned minutes later with a heavy box in his hands. The old wood, covered in dust, creaked at the joints. For the first time, Tyler didn't make the books float.

He carried it with his arms, his whole body bent, the sound of his footsteps echoing gravely on the floor.

The box landed on the mahogany table with a dry thud. Dust rose, dancing in the light.

Josh took a step back, distrust in his eyes.

"Is this what I think it is?"

Tyler smiled mischievously.

"These are all the Moonwell grimoires. All 16 generations. A piece of each of them lies here, their spells guarded through time. I rescued them from the library less than 48 hours ago," he said with pride as he dusted off his hands.

Josh looked at him with contained fire, his eyebrows furrowed, his fingers trembling with fury. He said nothing.

Tyler shrugged and started handling the books from the top, naming each witch, each bloodline. He showed the tome of Elara Moonwell, who created the reverse mirror spell.

The one by Florence, who turned water into distilled liquor.

Or Beatrice's, who enriched the family by discovering a method to extract energy from the stones of their own land.

Each book had its mark, its handwriting, its weight of centuries.

Amy approached, her eyes scanning the worn leather covers. No words needed to be said. This was the heart of the Moonwell family spread out on the table, and now beating again.

They spent hours like that. Josh reading with trembling hands, Amy jotting notes on loose sheets,

Tyler reciting phrases in Latin and translating them into tired English. They were searching for anything that explained what was happening in Hollowcreek. A pattern, a symbol, an omen that would say when the evil began.

From time to time they stopped, stretched, exchanged weary looks, and returned to the search. The clock on the wall lost its rhythm and the wind outside began to blow in circles.

It was Tyler who broke the spell of fatigue.

He took the package he had received from Kenton's grandmother, still wrapped in the checkered cloth. He untied the knot carefully, like someone opening a relic. Inside was a small baking pan covered in parchment paper, and the smell of burnt sugar and fennel spread quickly through the room.

Amy laughed to herself, watching Tyler take out the contents – a lemon tart with a wine crust.

They ate unhurriedly, talking about everything and nothing.

Amy told a story from when she was a child and thought thunder was the footsteps of giants.

Josh pretended to believe her.

Tyler, with a corner-of-the-mouth smile, said that maybe it wasn't a lie.

When the day began to fade, the orange light came through the stained glass and spread the warmth of dusk over the table full of books. Amy yawned, looked at the clock, and said she needed to go before the sun disappeared.

Tyler nodded, and Josh offered to walk her to the truck.

She refused with a touch on his shoulder, a gesture that felt like a disguised hug. She told him to be careful, and that if anything new happened, she would come back without a second thought.

Josh stood on the porch, watching the truck go down the road and disappear behind the trees. The house grew quiet again.

Tyler was still in the living room, calmly stacking books, his face lit by the last light of day.

When Josh approached, he saw one book remained at the bottom of the box. A volume of dark leather, older than all the others. The spine marked with symbols that looked burned in.

He opened it and searched the inside cover for the name.

His fingers traced where a quill had likely once traced to write it.

The necklace around his neck didn't just warm up; it vibrated now too, in excitement, like someone giving a welcome.

"Who is this?" Josh said, showing the name to Tyler.

"That is Agatha Moonwell. The first witch of your line."

Josh felt the weight of the book in his hands as if the leather were breathing. The name on the inside cover seemed to burn under his fingers, a stroke of ancient ink refusing to die. 

Agatha Moonwell.

The first. The origin of everything.

He thought of the basement, of the thing pulsing down there, that purple light breathing beneath the house, as if the hill had a body of its own and was about to wake up. If there was a secret capable of explaining that, it had to be there.

With a dry mouth, he opened the grimoire. The pages exuded a smell of smoke and burnt leaves. The letters danced under the flickering lamp light.

At the beginning, drawings of familiar plants and runes. Household spells: healing, harvest, protection against cattle disease.

The more he leafed through it, the more his frustration grew. They were just old words, recipes, and symbols he had seen in other volumes.

Amidst the pages, many of them were torn out and ripped; something was missing there, something that should have once been the answer. In its place, only useless information.

No mention of what pulsed in the basement. No clue about HollowCreek, or the children.

The necklace burned. His blood pounded loudly. He closed the book forcefully and threw it away. The sound echoed through the room, muffled.

Tyler was there. No words. He just approached and touched his arm slowly, with a gesture more human than usual. A brief touch, but whole. Josh didn't react.

The touch turned into a hug. Tyler enveloped him calmly, his chin resting on Josh's shoulder.

Neither of them said anything for long seconds. Only the sound of the wall clock and the distant wind.

Josh resisted, his shoulders rigid.

"Tyler… please."

"I know, Josh. I know you're distressed," he replied in a low voice, the tone of someone trying to hold back time with their hands. "But it's getting late. Let me prepare something for you."

"I'm not hungry." The voice was muffled behind his hands.

Tyler nodded, without arguing.

"Then let's go upstairs, take a bath, and clear our minds."

Josh let Tyler lead him up the stairs; he said nothing, just stared blankly at nothing.

Why did he care so much about this?

Josh felt the weight of guilt; he knew deep down this was happening because of him.

It had to be, because inside his bones and flesh, Josh felt it.

Tyler sat him on the edge of the bathtub and prepared his bath.

Then he undressed and helped Josh undress, both in silence.

Then the two got into the bathtub. Josh positioned himself between Tyler's legs and leaned back against his chest.

The silence was heavy but comfortable.

"There's nothing to be done," Josh whispered, the words like dust between his lips. "There's nothing."

"We are doing," Tyler retorted, and the sound of his voice was an anchor in the darkness. He ran his hands over Josh's back, under the water, his fingers drawing maps on wet skin. "You're not alone in this."

Josh didn't answer. His body began to tremble, a fine tremor that sprang from the marrow.

It wasn't from the cold. It was anguish.

"Josh?" Tyler's voice, close to his ear.

He turned his face, resting his head against the warm dampness of Tyler's shoulder.

Tears streamed warmly down his face.

"It's my fault, Tyler, deep down I know. All of this is happening because of me."

Tyler held him against his own chest as if he wanted to pin him there.

"We don't know what's happening, Josh. There's something behind this, but I don't believe it's your fault. The town has been whispering for a long time. Agnes knew something she never told me. Before she fell ill, she walked around the house talking to herself. She prepared everything for your arrival. All the events of the last few days... I don't believe anything is a coincidence."

"Even so–"

"Even if it has something to do with you, it would never be your fault. You're such a sweet boy. You care about the children. I can feel your essence." Tyler caressed Josh's cheeks, his cold fingers touching his warm tears, then moved down and played with his lips. "Josh, you have so much potential. I haven't seen someone with your ease for abilities in years. I suspect not since Agatha. Please don't underestimate yourself like this."

Josh turned his face to look at him for a moment, then relaxed back into silence.

The bath came like a warm blackout. The water hitting his skin seemed to strip away the weight of everything that had happened. When he got out, the house smelled of herbs and the hot wax from the many candles.

Tyler was the first to enter the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed, his face serene and impossible to read.

"Lie down," was all he said.

Josh obeyed. The cold sheet stuck to his damp skin. He felt Tyler adjust the pillow and push the hair from his forehead.

They intertwined their legs as usual.

For a moment, everything seemed simple.

The world went black.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

August passed like a dream in slow motion. Time in Hollowcreek warped.

Days felt like weeks, weeks turned into echoes. When the wind began to bring the damp smell of leaves, Josh realized autumn was coming.

Something in him had changed. The spells that once required effort now responded naturally. He felt the air move under his skin, the heat rise in his palms, the vibration of the world pulse beneath his feet.

It was a cold morning when Tyler took him to the backyard behind the house. The lawn was covered in dry leaves and a light mist danced over the ground. The sun was barely rising, filtered by branches and clouds.

"Today we train for real," Tyler said, raising his hands. "You've understood the theory. Now you need to feel."

Josh took a deep breath.

Tyler began to explain, his voice low and firm, as if reciting a creed.

"There are seven main gifts, seven keys that connect the visible world to the invisible." He raised one finger. "Telekinesis. The ability to move objects, or people, with the mind."

Josh closed his eyes. The leaves around them moved. Some took flight, spinning in the air as if they wanted to listen.

"Concilium," Tyler continued. "Mental control. Manipulating another's will. It's dangerous and addictive. Every time you enter someone's mind, you leave a mark and bring another back with you."

The wind blew. Josh swallowed dryly.

"Pyrokinesis. Creating and manipulating fire with the mind. Fire is not an enemy, but it's not a friend either. It's a beast that only respects those who aren't afraid to burn."

Tyler created a flame with his hands, but this one was blue.

Josh watched, fascinated. Tyler extinguished the flame with a soft blow.

"Divination. Seeing the past, the future, what is hidden. It's not a window; it's a mirror. And you don't always like what it reflects."

The air began to vibrate. The sound of crows came from afar.

"Transmutation. Displacing oneself between two points, breaking distance. But every jump demands a price."

Josh's eyes widened.

"Descensum." His tone lowered. "The Descent. Diving into the world of the dead, crossing the border and returning. It requires much practice, and there isn't always a way back."

The wind seemed to stop for a second.

"Finally, Vitalum Vitalis. The transfer of one's own life energy. A breath of life given or taken. It is the cruelest and the most sacred gift."

Josh fell silent. The world seemed to spin around them.

Tyler crossed his arms.

"The Moonwell family has always had a predisposition for pyrokinesis. Fire runs in your blood. It's natural, instinctive. Some witches stopped there, satisfied. Others expanded. Few reached mastery of two gifts. And there are the exceptions. Agnes managed to have four."

"And Agatha?" Josh asked.

Tyler looked at him. The wind hit, scattering leaves.

"Agatha mastered them all."

The name hung in the air, heavy and sweet, like a spell.

Tyler approached and snapped his fingers. A small flame appeared in the palm of Josh's hand. His eyes widened. The flame trembled, orange, then blue.

"Control your breathing," Tyler said. "Fire responds to calm, not to anger."

Josh tried. The flame grew, then shrank, then split into two small tongues that danced on his skin without burning him. He smiled. For the first time in weeks, he smiled for real.

Tyler extinguished the fire with a gesture.

"So… you want to learn how to burn things without turning into barbecue?"

Josh rolled his eyes. "I want to learn how to light a campfire without looking like an idiot with a lighter."

Tyler made a simple gesture with his hand. The air vibrates, the wind bends the leaves, and suddenly a blue flame sprouts from his fingertips – smooth, alive, dancing as if it had a will of its own.

Josh tries to imitate, closing his eyes and concentrating, but only a timid spark comes out.

"Congratulations, you've just invented the magical mosquito."

They spent hours there, Tyler teasing, Josh trying. With each attempt, the fire comes a little stronger.

Until, without realizing it, Josh gets it right. A small red flame appears in the palm of his hand. He smiles like someone who just won a war.

Tyler feigns disinterest, but the corner of his mouth betrays a disguised pride. "Don't stare at it too hard," he warns. "The flame senses when you doubt."

Josh raises his hand and, on an impulse, makes the flame take shape—a butterfly, made of trembling fire. Tyler arches an eyebrow, impressed.

"Okay, that was... pretty."

"Pretty?" Josh laughs. "That was incredible!"

"Don't get carried away, Moonwell. You still don't know how to put it out."

Josh blinks, and the fire goes out with a snap.

"Now I do."

Tyler shrugs. "Lucky beginner."

They end up sitting on the ground, laughing, the smell of earth and smoke in the air.

Josh blows on the heat still dancing between his fingers and looks to the side.

Tyler watches him with that look that mixes provocation and care.

"Want to know the secret of fire, Dun?"

"What is it?"

"It only responds to those who aren't afraid of getting burned." Josh stared at the other. Tyler had that bright, cunning cat-hunting look in his eyes.

He caught himself staring too much—at Tyler's mouth and the way it looked when it formed a smile. His crooked bottom teeth and the way he bit his lips when he was totally focused on something, or how he ran his tongue over the corner of them after making some teasing remark and then turned away, hiding his smile in self-satisfaction.

Tyler was like a magnet to him. He wanted to know him more, he wanted to understand his mind, he wanted to know what Tyler was hiding from him. He didn't know what this feeling was, and it was driving him crazy.

He felt his eyes burn in their sockets and his whole body warm up. This time it wasn't just the necklace on his chest, but something coming from inside him.

"That's enough for today, before you set this forest on fire."

He gathered the objects, closed the grimoire that was on the stone, and walked ahead. The crows cawed in the trees. Josh followed him.

On the way, he looked at the horizon. The sky was gray, and the cold made the air feel thick.

Tyler was the first to pull the back door open and enter. Josh entered the house but went in the opposite direction from him. Josh felt a hand pull his hair back lightly.

He turned and saw Tyler on the other side of the room, staring at him. Bright blue eyes.

"Tyler?"

"Hm."

"I need to see the basement."

Tyler stopped, his expression frozen.

"Now?"

"It's been a while. I need to see."

He didn't answer. Just turned and kept walking.

The stairs were damper than he remembered. Each step groaned under their weight. The smell of metal and wet earth filled the air. When he got down there, his heart raced.

The basement seemed different. The walls breathed a lilac vapor. The air pulsed at intervals, as if it had its own heartbeat.

That thing in the center, the same one he'd seen weeks ago, was bigger now. Thick, black roots intertwined on the ceiling, forming a living dome.

There was no longer the shape Josh had seen the first few times; now it was a kind of pulsating, deformed purple sphere, wrapped in twisted branches. Sparks rose and fell, getting lost in the air. The sound was a mixture of breathing, thunder, and voice.

Josh approached slowly. The vibration seemed to pass through the floor and rise up his legs. The light intensified with each step.

With each pulse, his head throbbed.

Josh approached, hypnotized, and then something called his name.

"Qui nomen meum invocat?" he said firmly.

The sphere pulsed stronger, as if responding. The air grew heavy. A deep buzzing began, and the walls seemed to tremble.

And then he heard it.

Screams. Distant, then close. Voices of children, of women, of men, all overlapping in agony. He brought his hands to his ears, but the sound came from within.

The necklace burned like a hot iron. His vision blurred. The floor spun.

Josh took one step, then another. The light enveloped him.

Josh fell into the small lake that had formed there, waters springing from the center of that being.

His body trembled, his vision darkened.

And then everything vanished.

Chapter Text

Luna, tu

Quanti sono I canti che risuonano

Desideri che attraverso I secoli

Han solcato il cielo per raggiungerti

Porto per poeti che non scrivono

E che il loro senno spesso perdono

Tu accogli I sospiri di chi spasima

E regali un sogno ad ogni anima

Luna che mi guardi adesso ascoltami

♩  ♪  ♫ ♬ ♩  ♪  ♫ ♬ ♩  ♪  ♫ ♬ ♩  ♪  ♫ ♬ ♩  ♪  ♫ ♬♩  ♪  ♫ ♬ ♩  ♪  ♫ ♬ ♩  ♪  ♫ ♬ ♩  ♪  ♫ ♬ ♩  ♪  

Time has been passing quickly.

At least, that's what Tyler thinks every time the sun changes position and the mansion's window glass begins to turn golden.

Lately, he's been noticing this more than he'd like.

It's not as if time has truly accelerated, he has simply learned to pass through it like someone crossing a room.

Being immortal is a kind of anesthesia.

You start by remembering everything, every sound, every face, every smell of rain, and then the memories get jumbled. Life becomes too long to fit inside your head, and time mixes together, forming a warm mass of indistinct recollections.

Sometimes he feels the world spins too fast, other times, too slow. But on most days, he just feels the world spins without him.

Tyler has lived for centuries. He has seen snow fall in places where now there is only smoke. He has watched cities grow like weeds and then become ruins.

He got used to watching. And watching doesn't hurt as much as living.

But ever since Josh arrived, he has been feeling time again.

Time became visible, tangible. He can feel the days changing color, the hours gaining texture. Time, which was once a blur, now pulses.

Josh makes time have a smell again. The smell of wood, of coffee, of burnt paper.

October has already begun, and the air in Hollowcreek has a taste that mixes honey and rust. The Moonwell property is covered in dry leaves, a thick layer of orange and brown covering the ground.

The wind makes them spin, dancing over the porch steps, accumulating in the corners of the walls. Each leaf seems to hold an ancient gleam, as if the sun had left pieces of itself there.

Tyler watches the lawn and finds it beautiful.

It's rare for him to find anything beautiful.

Beauty always scares him, because it usually comes before loss.

But there, with the smell of pine and the distant sound of crows, he feels a serenity he cannot name. The color of the leaves hypnotizes him, makes him remember other lives, other autumns that didn't end well, but were beautiful nonetheless.

Josh is on the other side of the yard, his hands raised, his eyes half-closed. Concentrated.

Trying to make the impossible seem natural.

Tyler watches in silence, leaning against the nearest tree, arms crossed, his scarf swaying lightly in the wind.

Since they began training, Josh has been learning at a speed that makes him uncomfortable.

Pyrokinesis came easily, fire seems to like him, it obeys with enthusiasm, like a dog calling its owner.

As with any Moonwell.

But then telekinesis came soon after, with less than a week Josh was already levitating objects easily around the house.

Now he's trying Concilium, mental control, a gift that requires precision, calm, and an almost intimate connection between master and apprentice.

Tyler watches him approach, his light steps making the leaves sigh under his soles. Josh stops nearby, much closer than he should, and stares at him with a mixture of expectation and stubbornness.

His hand touches Tyler's arm, trying to mimic the gesture he saw before. The touch is warm, alive, almost electric.

Tyler looks up without moving the rest of his body.

Josh takes a deep breath, as if about to cross a portal. "Is it working?" he asks, his tone low, anxious, too beautiful to be ignored.

Tyler lets the silence last a few seconds before answering. "You're making me die of envy. I could never do worse."

The irony comes out light, almost lazy.

Josh rolls his eyes, a quick smile escaping before he can disguise it.

The wind blows, scattering leaves between them.

Tyler pretends not to notice that something changes every time Josh smiles. It's one of those small internal catastrophes he's learned to pretend he doesn't feel.

Josh returns to his concentrated posture. His hands tremble slightly, and the energy he's trying to control dissipates like smoke. The air crackles between them, hot and cold at the same time.

After a while in silence, Josh speaks, without looking. "You never told me what happened on the day in the basement."

The sentence falls to the ground like a stone. Tyler blinks slowly.

He doesn't like remembering that day.

The image of Josh passed out on the floor, his body convulsing, his mouth uttering words too ancient to echo again.

He remembers the exact sensation when he touched him, the cold burning inside, the voices whispering names that didn't belong to this century.

Josh, pale, his eyes rolling back, reciting in Latin like a cursed monk.

He said things Tyler hadn't heard in centuries.

Lines of warning, prophecies. Passages that spoke of the heart of the hill and about a bearer who would light the fire of ruin.

Seeing Josh there, fragile and possessed, reminded him of something he himself had once been a boy full of power and fear.

He doesn't want to think about it. He doesn't want Josh to know what he saw.

Tyler looks away, pretends to adjust his gloves. "Nothing much happened."

Josh moves closer, his tone becoming firm. "You heard me."

"I did."

"And then?"

"And then nothing."

The silence grows between them. The branches sway, and the distant sound of a crow cuts through the air.

Josh crosses his arms, his expression tense. "If you don't want to tell me, I'll read your mind."

Tyler lets out a brief, humorless laugh. "Good luck to you, then."

But he didn't expect Josh to take it seriously.

The air changes.

It's as if the world is holding its breath.

The leaves stop falling, and the wind vanishes.

Tyler feels his own heart stop for a second, not from fear, but from recognition.

Josh is motionless, his eyes now red, shining like liquid fire. His hair begins to float slightly, as if the air had density.

When he speaks, the voice doesn't sound human.

"Me prohibere non potes, immortalis, sum omniscius et nihil me nunc impedire potest."

The sound vibrates through the ground.

Tyler feels his body react before his mind understands. The ancient words hit something in him, a dormant memory.

Josh extends his hands and grabs him by the wrists.

The touch is searing. A fire directly on his skin.

For a moment, the blue that lives inside Tyler tries to react, but it's swallowed by Josh's red. 

He feels the power invade, as if time, blood, and the very air are burning.

He pulls his hand back forcefully. The sound is dry, the breaking of something invisible.

The wind returns, and the world breathes again.

Josh blinks, confused. His eyes return to their normal color. "Tyler?" he asks, his voice trembling. "What was that?"

Tyler keeps his gaze on the ground. "Nothing. I'm fine. Just… a brief episode."

Josh takes a step forward. "Did I say something?"

Tyler turns his back. "No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Are you really sure, Tyler? You–"

"We're done for today." His voice is too calm not to be a warning. "Go rest. I'll stay here."

Josh hesitates. The concern in his voice is genuine.

But Tyler doesn't turn around.

He just stands still, listening to the sound of footsteps fading away, until silence fills everything once more.

Then he looks at his own hands.

The gloves are scorched.

The leather torn, the fabric darkened.

He removes them slowly.

Underneath, the skin is wounded. Red, burned, with the exact marks of Josh's fingers imprinted like hot iron.

Tyler runs his fingertips over the wounds and watches the blue light appear, pulsing under the skin. The regeneration begins, but it's slow. Much slower than normal.

He sits on the ground, his back against a tree trunk, the cold of the wood seeping through his coat.

He takes a deep breath and watches the sky, that orange sky that always seems the same, but for some reason, today seems more alive.

The leaves keep falling. Some touch his shoulder and get stuck there. He doesn't remove them.

He thinks about how Josh made him feel something he had forgotten. Pain, perhaps. Or the simple fact of being alive enough to get hurt.

Josh was like a small torture. Tyler liked a torture.

The silence that follows is good. A silence full of sound, the rustling of leaves, the distant echo of crows, the air breathing between the trees.

Tyler closes his eyes for a moment.

He thinks of Josh, the way he talks, the way he smiles when he gets a spell right, the adorable frustration when he can't.

He thinks of how the necklace on Josh's neck glows differently when he gets emotional.

He thinks of how time, around him, has started moving again.

Maybe that's it.

Josh makes time move.

Tyler opens his eyes again. The wounds haven't healed yet. The pain is small, bearable, but constant. A reminder that something has changed.

He rests his elbows on his knees and looks toward the horizon, where the Moonwell mansion seems to breathe along with the wind.

That old house, full of echoes, has witnessed centuries of spells and tragedies.

But now it holds something new, the sound of laughter, the smell of coffee, the human warmth Tyler thought he had forgotten.

He lifts his hands once more. The skin regenerates slowly, the blue pulsing at intervals.

But something is wrong.

The energy flowing through him is unbalanced. Josh's touch left traces, an interference.

His body reacts as if touched by an opposing force.

And yet, he feels no fear.

He feels curiosity.

Tyler looks at his own reflection in the distant window of the house.

For a second, he thinks the glass reflects two of him.

He blinks, and the reflection returns to normal.

He leans his head against the trunk and sighs.

The wind picks up, cold, and carries a handful of leaves through the air.

He thinks of tomorrow, of the silent promise he made to himself to fix everything.

Tomorrow, perhaps, time will stop running so fast.

For now, he just stays there, motionless, listening to the world age slowly.

The sun sets behind the trees, and the sky turns to wine.

Tyler closes his eyes again.

The world, for a moment, seems whole.

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It was a Monday. Tyler knew.

See, Tyler never knew what day it was.

The calendar had meant nothing to him for a long time.

Being immortal had that habit of dissolving the edges of time.

But today, he knew, for the same reason as always. Because he felt it in his skin.

The air in the mansion smelled of dry leaves, burnt sugar, and promise.

Promise not in the sense of destiny, but in the sense that something was going to happen, even if it was small, and that was enough to pull the world out of inertia for a few minutes.

Josh was in the kitchen, walking around animatedly, and Marianne Moonwell's grimoire floated behind him like an obedient little dog.

The book kept opening and turning pages by itself, a ruby light trembling beneath the letters, and occasionally it let out a discreet flash when it recognized a passage that demanded attention. Josh, with the excitement only he possessed, read and murmured, read and smiled, read and stumbled over an old word and pretended he had understood it.

The Moonwell kitchen seemed more alive when he was there. The wooden floor groaned softly, the windows fogged by the cold outside blurring the edges of the world, and the old iron stove had a glow that seemed its own.

Spread across the counter were jars, vials, and small bowls with herbs and powders labeled by hand.

Josh performed a somewhat clumsy choreography of grabbing, sniffing, checking the grimoire, going back, measuring with his eyes, pouring into the pot, and checking if the flame was just right.

Tyler didn't help. Not that he couldn't. He just preferred to watch.

He liked to watch. He liked noticing how Josh's custom-made black shirt molded the muscles of his back when he stretched his arm to reach a vial on the shelf.

He liked the way his hair caught the orange light from the flame. He liked the little sound his shoelaces made dragging on the floor when he turned too quickly.

He liked, most of all, the way Josh trusted that the world would cooperate if he tried hard enough.

The grimoire listed the ingredients and Josh repeated them aloud as he picked each one, like someone answering roll call in a magic school.

First, he took dried poppy petals, sniffed them, and sneezed, laughing to himself at his own stubborn nose.

Then came angelica root, cut into small yellow discs, with that sweet, earthy scent.

He opened a jar of dark honey, thick like melted night, and poured a generous spoonful into the pot, where a translucent mixture was beginning to boil slowly.

Next, lavender ashes kept in a cloth bag. He opened it and sprinkled it with his fingers, like someone sowing a garden in January.

The quartz powder came in a frosted glass jar, he tapped the bottom lightly and let a bright trail fall, like lunar sand. Then it was the turn of the coarse lunar salt, which clinked in the spoon before falling, and each grain seemed to emit a tiny sound, almost a micro-bell.

Finally, a small dropper of myrrh oil, which he squeezed twice, and two drops fell slowly and perfectly, leaving a trail of aromatic resin that clung to the air.

Meanwhile, the soup of colors inside the pot thickened and thinned alternately, obeying words that Tyler knew and preferred not to say out loud.

He stayed leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, just watching. The world fit in there.

It fit in Josh's excessive attention, in his almost childish patience in following instructions he didn't fully understand, in the wind of Hollowcreek hitting the window and making the stained glass in the next room cast little spots of color down the hallway.

Josh looked at the grimoire carefully, the object moving closer to his face to help him read better, and spoke without turning his head. "I need something."

He took two steps, craned his neck toward the garden as if the garden would answer, and announced with the satisfaction of someone finding the last puzzle piece, "Purple sage."

The word hung beautifully in the air. Purple sage. Tyler knew exactly what purple sage did.

It wasn't just any herb. It was one that opened the mind, stretched the boundaries of dreams, pulled visions like someone pulling back a curtain.

The mind became big, too big, and if the person wasn't ready, they could get lost in the hallway of their own echoes. Tyler knew this in an ancient way, with memories that smelled of wet smoke and old notebook ink.

He crossed his arms more firmly and answered before Josh could ask. "I'm not getting any sage."

His voice came out flat, but with the invisible smile of someone who is absolutely in control. Inside, he thought, just to himself, and the thought came like a little arrow, purple sage opens the head, boy.

What recipe is this silly boy trying now, after all the previous ones went wrong out of pure stubbornness.

Josh stopped, looked over his shoulder with furrowed brows and a line of frustration on his mouth.

He turned to face him, seemed like he was going to argue, and then vanished. He didn't disappear with a noise, or light, or smoke.

He just vanished. The kitchen gave a hiccup of air. The flame under the pot shrank. The grimoire shook in the air like a startled bird.

Tyler didn't move. His whole body knew what had happened and chose stillness.

He waited. A half-second of silence. A light snap. Josh reappeared in the same spot, exactly the same spot, panting, his cheeks flushed with victory, his hair a bit more disheveled, and with a handful of purple leaves in his hands.

"It's fine," he said, displaying the leaves like someone presenting evidence. "I already have some here."

Tyler looked at him like someone appreciating a well-executed act of irreverence. Disbelief and approval walked together in his blue iris.

For a moment he was tempted to smile broadly, but decided to preserve his own icy reputation.

He breathed, held the silence in a straight line, and only asked, calmly, "What recipe is this now?"

Josh lifted the grimoire and bit his lip slightly, which was his way of admitting he had gotten himself into a murky part of the text. "Something about luck." He tilted the book, as if the letters would align by themselves. "I still mix up some runes."

Tyler extended his hand without hurry. "Let me see." The red light surrounding the grimoire went out like an ember under snow, and a blue mist lit up around the edges.

The book crossed the air and landed in Tyler's hands with the docility of a bird recognizing its old owner.

He stroked the cover with his thumb, felt the texture of the leather, recognized a small scar the cover had gained in 1903, when Marianne narrowly escaped a stove disaster.

He opened it to a page in the middle, without looking at the number, like someone opening it by the memory of its weight.

He read a few lines. The handwriting was firm, slanted, with ornaments that betrayed a writer very sure of what she was writing.

He sighed softly, with the affection of someone reuniting with a friend who remains stubborn. "Why are you trying this," he asked, raising his eyes just enough to aim at Josh. "I thought your divination skills were good enough."

Josh swapped the spoon to his other hand, wiped the first one on his pants, which already had spots of honey, quartz powder, and soot, and answered with the sincerity of someone who trips and laughs at their own stumble. "Oh, that's what it's for then."

"It is," said Tyler, turning his head back to the page a little, "but with a few extra things." The corner of his mouth lifted, as if the book had told a joke made for people who were already alive in the wrong decade.

Josh, distracted, picked up a large piece of cheese from a plate and offered it to the rat in its aquarium.

The rat emerged from its little house with all the dignity of someone who pays rent in testimonies and audacity, took the cheese with both front paws, and instead of nibbling it, stuffed it whole into its mouth. Whole.

It vanished. Not even a crumb.

Josh's eyes widened, he laughed to himself, and whispered an ultra-surprised "my God."

Tyler couldn't hold back a small laugh, a sound mirrored in the back of his throat, almost unseen. "That's a reflection of your influence," he commented, without taking his eyes off the book. "Everyone in this house has lost their common sense."

Josh shook his head, and his hair moved as if it had a life of its own. "Okay, then," he said, looking again at the bubbling mixture. "Just check that I'm doing everything right, okay."

Tyler closed the grimoire with his palm, made a minimal gesture, and the book floated back to Josh's side.

The pages aligned to the passage he was using, almost as if Marianne had tugged on her great-great-grandson's ear.

"I'm not going to supervise anything," said Tyler, and his voice came low and lazy, but it cast a hook. "I hope this potion makes you open your eyes and consider who you've been talking to and trusting."

The sentence hung in the air like smoke that can't decide to rise.

The flame crackled. The old clock in the living room struck a minute nobody asked for. Josh stirred the spoon, but slowly, and the pot responded with timid little bubbles that rose to the surface and popped as if they were ashamed.

The silence wasn't hostile. It was a silence that asked for attention.

Tyler paid attention. He paid too much attention. And when he paid too much attention, he started to see what he never allows himself to see when he's performing his own pose.

Josh stirred the pot in circular motions. He saw how his right shoulder rose a little faster than the left when he leaned in to read a more difficult line.

His face in total concentration.

Sometimes, during lessons, Tyler liked to knock an object over with feigned distraction.

Josh would bend down in front of him, innocently, to pick up whatever it was and hand it to him, then he'd give that gentle look, looking up at Tyler from below.

And God, how Tyler loved to look at Josh in that position.

He would wrap his fingers in the hair covering the younger man's forehead, his forehead almost always sweaty.

He would close his fingers around that hair and pull, forcing Josh's face to look up as much as possible, exposing his neck. Totally vulnerable.

Josh would look at him, confused, with pleading eyes.

Like the pathetic puppy he was.

It was like a small torture. Tyler liked a torture.

Oh God, his body was responding to that. Tyler shook his head.

Josh read another line, this time with his lips, just forming the words without sound. He took a small handful of poppy petals and dropped them into the mixture.

A golden smoke rose, slow, like a veil in slow motion.

He smiled broadly, that smile that should be illegal to use indoors. "Did you see that," he said, not hiding his joy, "are you paying attention to the recipe?"

Tyler was exactly behind him now, almost glued to him, and the air seemed warmer between the two of them, as if the entire kitchen had moved its walls closer.

"No, Josh," he replied, softly. The word landed just a few centimeters from the nape of Josh's neck, like a secret kept behind the skin. "I'm not paying any attention to the recipe. Only to you."

Josh froze. His whole body. His arm stopped mid-circle. The spoon hung suspended.

The fire continued. His breathing, not so much. "You're paying attention... to me?" he repeated, and his voice came out with too much air, almost transparent, almost a plea for the moment not to end.

"Yes," said Tyler, and the syllable was a short promise.

Josh frowned, still speaking quietly. "Like, in a friend wa–"

His hand rose slowly, without any rush, like someone climbing stairs that lead to a familiar room.

His fingers touched the nape of Josh's neck.

The skin was warm, alive, pulsing under his fingertips. A shiver ran in the opposite direction, climbing up Tyler's hand like a spark that decides to burn backwards.

"Oh," he murmured, in a tone that was half laugh, half discovery. "Not in a friend way. Okay. Okay."

Josh laughed, but it was a nervous laugh, the kind that escapes on its own to avoid confessing the rest.

"Okay. Okay." He didn't know where to put his hands. He stirred the pot just to have a task, just so his body wouldn't betray the heart that had already run ahead.

Tyler brought his face closer to Josh's ear. His voice also came closer, and the heat of his speech touched Josh's skin. "Shut up, idiot."

There was no cruelty.

There was playfulness.

There was the kind of command a king gives when he's laughing at his own crown. Josh shuddered.

His neck responded before his head could choose what to think. The body has its own spells.

Tyler continued, now in an almost gentle tone, but still with the current of sarcasm flowing underneath.

He pressed his body a little closer, now actually touching his body to Josh's. His erection pressed, completely fitted, against the cleft of the sorcerer's backside.

His breath in the other's ear was so close that Josh felt the coolness from his mouth. "dog... pay attention to your stupid recipe."

"I'm trying," said Josh, and it was true. His voice came out lower, looser. "You're making me nervous."

"Alright," Tyler replied, taking a minimal step back, just enough for the column of air to relearn how to circulate. "This is new. A nervous Moonwell in his own kitchen." He left the sentence hanging, like someone leaving a window ajar to see if the wind comes in.

Josh let out his breath in a short laugh, and a blush rose from his collar to his face, painting his cheekbones with a color too pretty for an anonymous day.

He stirred the pot, now obeying the rite of stirring clockwise for eight turns and then counterclockwise for five, as the grimoire commanded. The spoon touched the bottom with a sound of wood scraping smooth stone.

With each turn, the mixture gained a different shine, and little golden sparks popped in the steam, disappearing before they could catch fire on the ceiling.

Tyler moved to the counter and leaned his hip against it, crossing his arms again, but with less armor.

The rat reappeared, as if summoned by some secret association of the house's critters, climbed onto the small log of its little house and stared with black eyes of total attention.

Josh cut a small cube of cheese and offered it, and the rat took it with serenity and, in a supernatural way, swallowed it whole once again.

Josh looked at Tyler like someone who just witnessed a miracle and wants a witness.

Tyler shrugged, but his eyes laughed. "Like I said. The whole house has lost its common sense."

In the air, the smells organized themselves in layers. Dark honey mixing with myrrh oil, burnt lavender appearing like a summer memory, the dampness from the windows suggesting the persistent presence of autumn.

The garden outside, which Tyler now saw as a smear of green and copper, let through a wind that carried a timid pollen, and this pollen landed on the world's spoonfuls without asking permission.

Josh consulted the grimoire again, and the book turned the page by itself, displaying a rune that seemed to move when the eye grew tired. "Where am I gonna get-" he said, almost childlike.

"Infant screams of happiness?" Tyler asked, then signaled with his fingers and one of the cabinets opened, revealing a medium-sized jar that came floating over to Josh. "Careful with that, pour it then use the lid so they don't escape."

Josh nodded, took the container, opened it and poured it into the pot. The little screams slipped inside and Josh, who already held the pot lid, used it immediately.

"I think that's it, it says to let it rest here." Josh let his shoulders slump and leaned against the counter behind him.

"Good boy, very good boy," Tyler walked over to him again.

"Tyler, don't do that."

"Don't get it, dog." Josh sighs in frustration. The younger man approaches to close the used jar and put it away again. He tries to move away but is stopped by Josh, who presses him against the nearest piece of furniture.

Josh is behind him now, pressing his erection against him, just like he had done before. Tyler is on full alert now.

He needs it like living beings need water to live.

He doesn't resist, he doesn't say anything. All he does is let out a moan so coy it sounds more like a meow.

Josh squeezes him and forces him to turn around. There's a china cabinet behind them and the witch slams Tyler's back against it. A thud, and then the sound of Margaret Moonwell's expensive porcelain pieces protested.

Tyler didn't have time to think about how she would slaughter him if she knew this was happening.

Tyler didn't want to know about anything. The only Moonwell he paid attention to now was Josh and his stupid puppy dog eyes, closer to his face now than they had ever been.

He could practically already taste Josh's breath in anticipation. And it tasted like-

Knock Knock Knock

The knock wasn't aggressive. It was insistent. Three medium knocks, a short silence, and two more, as if the person outside was trying to be polite while holding back nervousness.

The kitchen breathed differently. The grimoire closed its pages slowly, like someone retreating hastily in a library.

The rat vanished in a puff of invisible dust. The fire continued, but lower, respecting the interruption.

Josh looked at Tyler, like someone asking for a decision that isn't in the script.

Tyler took a half-step back, and the mask of indifference returned to the exact spot where it always lived. His voice came out smooth, almost playing hide-and-seek with the previous second. "Go see who it is."

Josh concentrated for a few seconds. His eyes turned red, then he closes them and they are normal again.

"It's Debby," he said, with a smile that Tyler immediately hated.

The name sounded like a snap. Tyler lifted his gaze slowly, and the expression on his face transformed into a mix of boredom and disgust, the kind of look that melts any excitement in the air.

"You disappoint me, Josh."

Josh blinked, confused. "What? Why?"

Tyler crossed his arms, his gaze steady, his eyes loaded with something between contempt and sadness.

"Her. Always her. You still don't get it, do you?"

Josh dropped the spoon on the counter, the metallic sound echoing through the kitchen. "I don't get what you have against Debby. She never did anything to you, Tyler."

Tyler laughed low, without humor. "Never did anything? Did you really forget the night of the fight? What she said to you? What she tried to do?"

He looked at him in a way that said everything, the kind of look that cuts through the other like a blade.

Josh sighed, trying to contain his irritation. "Maybe it was a misunderstanding. She's not like that."

"Oh, for sure she's not." The irony dripped from Tyler's voice like sweet poison. "You trust too easily, Josh. One day that's gonna get you killed."

Josh shook his head, his face scrunched in frustration. "I don't want to have this argument now. Can we talk about this later? I need to get some new enchantments from Debby and study them before Halloween."

Tyler stared at him, and the world seemed to stop for a second. "New?" he repeated, his voice cold. "You've been getting enchantments from her?"

Josh hesitated. His gaze lowered, and that instant of silent guilt was the confirmation Tyler needed.

"Josh," he said, low, "do you even understand what you're saying when you do those enchantments?"

Josh shook his head slowly. Shame sketched itself on his expression, a wordless regret.

Tyler closed his eyes for a moment, trying to contain the anger that grew slowly, warm, uncomfortable.

"Please, Tyler… can we talk later? I'm running late." Josh turned, hurried, grabbing the grimoire from the table.

When he looked back, the space where Tyler had been was already empty. "Tyler?"

A soft sound echoed from the floor, the delicate sound of claws being sharpened on the carpet.

Tyler, now in cat form, watched him from the corner of the room. The blue eyes, lit and dense, had a shine Josh had never seen before.

Josh took a step towards him. His hand going towards Tyler's head, attempting a pet. "Hey, don't be like that. I-"

Before he could finish, Tyler lunged and bit his hand hard. The sharp teeth clamping down on his skin with force.

Josh let out a low cry, recoiling. The blood ran down his hand and dripped from his fingers. 

He then cast a sad and drawn look at the cat.

Tyler looked at him from below, a gaze that mixed betrayal and sadness, as if love and resentment had the same face.

Then, without hesitation, he turned and left, disappearing into the hallway, his paws touching the floor silently.

Josh stood still, looking at the open door for a second, then silently turned and left.

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Tyler walked across the property, his body small and light, his black fur glistening under the faint light.

He felt every leaf under his paws, the cold cutting up from the roots, the damp smell of the earth rising to his nose.

In cat form, the world seemed simpler.

Sounds were louder, the wind more alive, time less heavy.

But his thoughts were still too human.

And he hated that.

He passed through the garden, where the purple sage swayed by itself.

He would have picked it for Josh.

He said no, but with half a request he would have given in.

And deep down, Tyler knew it. Because, no matter what he said, he always let Josh do whatever he wanted.

That was the problem.

The sky was heavy, the kind of gray that seemed stuck between the clouds.

Dry leaves covered the ground like a carpet of bronze and rust, and the air smelled of distant smoke.

He climbed the side wall and from there scaled the eaves of the second floor, his movements graceful and precise, as if his body remembered the way on its own.

He reached the highest point of the Moonwell mansion and stopped.

The view from there was broad, almost solemn.

On one side, Hollowcreek stretched out like a carpet of roofs and chimneys. Smoke rose lazily from the houses, dissolving into an autumn sky.

On the other, the back of the property, the dense forest and the lake that reflected the rest of the world.

The sun was already past the middle of the sky.

Tyler looked at all that and felt a strange pang in his chest. Maybe it was longing. Maybe it was anger.

Or maybe it was just tiredness.

He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the wind pass through his fur and skin.

The air came cold, but it carried something different, a light vibration, almost electric.

He opened his eyes and his ears twitched, a distant sound that didn't fit with the rest.

An engine.

Tyler straightened up on the parapet.

At the main gate, Amy's old blue pickup truck was climbing slowly, creaking with every meter.

It stopped, the engine wheezed and fell silent.

Amy got out calmly, her hair swaying, and the yellow dress fluttered slightly in the breeze.

It was a yellow that didn't seem to belong to that place, a shade of sun that defied the dead trees and the iron of the gates.

The light fabric seemed to breathe with her.

On her eyes, the round sunglasses reflected the mansion as if it were a secret.

The military boots hit the ground firmly, and her smile was the kind of smile that said 'I know more than you think.'

Tyler watched her for a few seconds, his blue eyes blinking with curiosity.

She seemed out of place there, and yet perfectly at ease.

He started to descend, jumping from roof to roof with the precision of someone who'd done it for centuries.

His claws scraped tiles, his body stretched in the air and landed softly, almost without a sound.

Amy was already watching him, not with fear, but with a kind of silent fascination.

When Tyler jumped from the last eave, the impact stirred up a whirlwind of leaves.

Blue flames began to rise from his paws, contouring the small body until the air snapped and opened in a brief flash.

Where the cat had been, now he stood, human again, on his feet, adjusting his shirt collar with a precise gesture, his hair messy from the wind, his gaze loaded with self-assurance.

Amy smiled. "Okay… now that's new."

Tyler raised an eyebrow and smirked. "You needed a show to believe me?"

She laughed, the kind of laugh that comes effortlessly, that escapes like music. "No. But I admit it was a good show."

The silence between them was brief, but comfortable.

The wind lifted a few leaves between them, and Tyler thought that if someone looked from afar, they'd swear it was a rehearsed scene.

Amy took off her sunglasses and looked at him directly. "Wanna go out with me? Get some breakfast in town. Or whatever… you wanna call it."

Tyler looked at the sky and then at her. "Breakfast?" he asked, his voice full of mockery. "Amy, it's too late for that."

"Then call it a late lunch," she said, her smile intact.

For a moment, he thought about refusing.

But the way the light hit her dress, and how the wind messed up her hair, made time seem a little less unbearable.

He sighed and adjusted his collar once more. "Alright. But only because you asked politely."

Amy laughed. "You're impossible."

"And irresistible," he added, already walking beside her.

They walked together along the stone path, the sound of leaves being crushed under their steps.

Up there, at the top of the house, the wind kept blowing, carrying the smell of the lake and the echo of a name Tyler would rather not think about.

Josh.

The world always seemed to spin back to him, even when Tyler tried to walk in a straight line.

But for now, the sun was still there, the day was still bright, and Amy had that smile that defied time itself.

And Tyler, too tired to fight it, decided to just let it be.

The pickup truck breathed wearily as Amy turned off the engine.

The early afternoon still had that autumnal freshness that seeps under the collar of the coat and awakens the skin.

Tyler jumped out first, the ground returning the sound of his steps with a short echo.

The diner's facade shimmered with red letters promising coffee, waffles, bacon, milkshakes, as if the whole world could fit into those words.

The stained glass of the sign blinked twice and stabilized. Shining tiles, chrome corners, impeccable glass.

Everything too clean, almost an organized memory of the past.

Tyler walked beside Amy, close enough to feel the light fabric of the yellow dress brush against the wind.

She adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder, and he opened the door before her hand could touch the handle.

Amy smiled at him in the calm way of someone who isn't surprised, but appreciates it. She entered.

Tyler followed her.

The interior was a living photograph. Checkered floor in black and white, rows of red booths with white stitching, red lamps hanging over each table like ripe fruit.

A radio in the back was playing a song old enough to have dust on its chords.

The air mixed strong coffee, clean grease, maple syrup, and the sugar of a freshly blended milkshake.

Amy chose a table by the window. The still-low sun came in from the side and cut the scene into clear lines.

Tyler let her sit first. He kept gestures like that in his pockets, not because he needed to, but because he liked the choreography.

He sat on the other side, took his gloves off for just a moment to adjust his sleeve cuff, and put them back on, a habit that seemed elegant but was really a defense.

The waitress appeared chewing gum, notepad in one hand and pen in the other.

Too young. Hair tied in a bun that didn't want to obey, red lipstick a little beyond her lip line.

She smiled at Amy with automatic friendliness.

When her eyes landed on Tyler, the smile went out like an old light bulb. He looked back at her.

The girl's eyes fell on the gloves. Curiosity. Small prejudice. Small fear.

Tyler moved his hands to his lap under the table, without drama, just moved them, and started staring at the wood grain as if something were written there.

"Good morning. What can I get you?" the girl asked in a voice that had memorized the question.

"We'll have the scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, pancakes, and blueberries," said Amy, confident, her gaze kind.

The waitress wrote it down, her gum making a discreet pop. "That's the Hungry College Boy," she informed with a sideways smile, testing if Amy knew the names of things.

Amy agreed, smiling too. "Perfect."

The pen stopped in the air, her head tilted to the side. "And for the gentleman?"

Tyler looked at Amy as if she were a dictionary. There was a delicate emptiness in his eyes.

Amy understood immediately, turned to the waitress and answered without asking his fate for permission. "A vanilla milkshake, please."

The girl wrote it down and walked away, the sound of her sneaker soles scratching the floor's frame.

Tyler adjusted himself in the seat. Without the waitress's inquisitive presence, he seemed taller in his own skin.

Amy took the opportunity and leaned her body over the table, elbows propped, her dress making that nice fold in the fabric. "How are you," she asked, and it wasn't the automatic question. It was the one with weight.

"Fine," he said simply.

His gaze passed over the window and returned. "Josh has been improving. Quickly." A statement. A hint of pride he didn't want to name. "But nothing that helps with what's happening."

Amy shook her head slightly, a soft no, almost a caress. "I don't want to talk about that now." She took her sunglasses from the top of her head and rested her hand on the table. "I want to know how you are. You."

Tyler held her gaze. He looked impressed not in a theatrical way, but in a small, real way, like someone who forgot it was possible for someone to ask about him for real. "I said I'm fine."

"I heard." Her smile wasn't complacent. It was insistent. "But what's underneath that."

He was searching for the answer when the tray appeared.

Amy's plate overflowed with chaotic organization, eggs gleaming, brittle bacon, sausage rounds threatening to escape, stacked pancakes with butter melting in slow topography, blueberries like tiny blue planets.

Tyler's glass came tall, thick, with the milkshake in a pale shade of vanilla, a red and white straw raised like a mast. He stared at the glass as if staring at an artifact from another time.

Amy took a bite and was happy without apology. Tyler put his mouth to the straw, sipped timidly and stopped mid-way with the expression of someone who found a treasure.

The flavor burst with the perfect simplicity of well-made things. Sweet just right, cold, dense, with a creamy finish that reminded him of childhoods that weren't his.

"Keep going," Amy laughed, seeing the good shock turn into pleasure. Tyler obeyed, and an almost childlike contentment touched his eyes. The sugar opened small windows in his mood.

"And Josh," she returned to the topic, pouring maple syrup on the edge of her plate. "How are things between you two."

Tyler spun the straw to buy time. "As always." The answer came out smooth, and he tried to believe it. "He's the same as always. I'm the same as always."

Amy chewed slowly, observing. "You don't fool me. I see how you look at each other." She placed her cutlery on the edge of the plate and let the sentence rest. "It's beautiful."

"Don't use that word." Tyler set the glass down and looked at his own gloved hand. "I don't want to allow myself to feel that. I've lived too long and I know how that ends. I don't intend to waste time with love."

Amy laughed without malice. "It's ironic for someone who has so much time not to want to waste time."

He didn't smile. "All time is precious." His tone became low, intimate, almost a secret confessed unintentionally. "You invest in something or someone and then you have to watch the person leave. Or wither away until they die. I'm not willing to live that again. Not in that way."

"You're calling love torture," Amy said calmly, not as an accusation, but as someone naming a thing so it stops biting.

"Love is torture," he confirmed, and there were centuries in that sentence.

Amy pulled his glass closer with her fingertips. "You're confusing things." She fished a few blueberries from her own plate and, without ceremony, dropped them into Tyler's milkshake.

They plunged and disappeared, then reappeared spinning, staining the cream blue. "Love is a decision. It's waking up every day and choosing. Choosing to go out there and love someone, with all their flaws, with all the annoying things, with all the fears. It's an act of faith. And of courage."

Tyler brought the straw to his mouth again to avoid answering.

The milkshake now had small explosions of fruit in the middle of the cream, and that distracted the part of his head that was already ready to destroy her argument.

Amy leaned in a little closer to play at changing the conversation with small gestures.

When her hand passed through the space between them, a tiny spark jumped from the tip of her finger and touched the back of his gloved hand. A yellow zigzag so short you could almost doubt it.

Tyler froze his movement and looked at her. "You saw that."

"Saw it." Amy brought her hands back to her own plate, as if she hadn't done anything. "It happened with Josh too."

He moved his hand closer to hers on purpose, without touching. The air between their fingers dawned with another spark, this time clear.

A mini lightning bolt connecting skin to skin for less than a second. It vanished. They both laughed, not mockingly, but with a good scare.

"This is incredible," he said with a curiosity that had nothing theoretical about it. He felt it in his body. "Does it hurt you?"

"No." She tilted her face, implying with sweetness. "You?"

"A little pain is good sometimes." He said it without provocation, just stating the truth he knew.

Carefully, he pulled each finger of the glove, one by one, until he freed his hands.

They lay on the seat beside him, like emptied serpents. Amy watched the gesture in silence. It wasn't just skin. It was trust placed on the table next to the salt shaker.

He stretched his hands over the table, first in the air, then resting his fingertips within reach of hers.

Amy approached slowly. New yellow sparks jumped, thin as hairs of light, weaving a brief network between hand and hand.

They laughed quietly. The world became blurry through their laughter.

Tyler suddenly closed his fingers and held hers, completely intertwining them, both hands joined in a fit that seemed to have been designed before.

It was quick, instinctive, a 'yes' that didn't pass through his head. The effect came in a cascade.

The ceiling cracked. The red lamps exploded one by one as if lit from within too much.

Hundreds of sparks jumped in perfect parabolas, a rain of metal and glass, the white light opening the entire room in a flash.

Someone screamed.

A waitress ducked behind the counter, pulling her colleague by the apron.

A couple in the corner raised their hands by reflex and started laughing nervously. People went to the floor with the sound of menus falling and chairs scraping. Seconds. It all happened in seconds.

Amid the confusion, Amy and Tyler remained holding hands, laughing too, but their laughter had a different weight.

Tyler let go slowly, and the electricity retracted its claws. The radio lost its signal and returned with static. The silent buzz of the post-explosion hovered above their heads like an invisible bee.

Tyler stood up.

The movement was elegant as always, but there was a warm haste in his posture.

Amy stood up too, instinctively, grabbing her bag with one hand and his hand with the other, only to let go a second later.

An employee came towards them with a face caught between irritation and fascination, trying to ask if everything was okay, if they saw, if they were…

Tyler let the question die where it was born. He turned his face and lit up his eyes for an instant. It wasn't a threat. It was a warning. The person veered away, as if remembering the water was boiling.

They crossed the dimly lit hall, the floor reflecting small bright points of glass like newly fallen constellations.

The door opened with a light push. The outside air was colder than before, as if the thermal shock was part of the rite.

Tyler lifted the sleeve of his coat and wiped the glass of a streetlamp on the sidewalk with it. He did it naturally, like someone wiping a drop of water from the corner of their mouth. The light inside the lamp flickered obediently and shone again, sharper.

Amy watched the scene with a smile that needed no caption.

Their eyes met as they, still laughing quietly, left the place.

The cold morning air enveloped them like a freshly washed sheet. The streets of Hollowcreek were damp, and the sun filtered lazily through the trees in the central square.

Tyler walked a step behind Amy, watching how her yellow dress seemed to repel the sadness of the place.

"Did you know you could do that?" she asked, her voice weightless, but with curiosity alive in her eyes.

Amy looked at him over her shoulder, her pinned hair slowly coming loose. She shook her head, laughing nervously. "No. I think… not exactly." The words came out too fast, stumbling over each other. "It's new. Or… maybe old. I don't know."

Tyler arched an eyebrow. "Where are you from, anyway?"

Amy took a deep breath, like someone preparing for a lie that needs to sound true. "It's complicated."

"Complicated is usually the interesting part."

She laughed. "I'm… from a place very far from here."

"Everyone says that."

"No, seriously," she continued, gesturing with her hands. "It was a normal day, I was going to the beach, the pickup truck full of stuff, and then… it happened. I don't know how to explain, it was like… you know that Barbie movie?"

Tyler stopped walking. "Barbie."

"Yeah."

"The doll."

"Yeah," she confirmed, shrugging. "The travel part. Just like it."

Tyler blinked a few times, trying to find logic in the absurdity. "Okay. The Barbie."

They were already arriving at the square, the ground covered in leaves that stuck to the soles of their boots.

A colder wind blew, carrying the smell of coffee and wet metal. Amy stopped near the bandstand and rested her hands on the iron railing. "I can show you what I mean. I just need paper and a pen."

Tyler nodded, slipping his hand into the left pocket of his coat and pulling out a small, dark-covered notebook, the same one he carried to jot down his observations.

He handed it to her.

When he put his other hand in the right pocket to get the pen, something different happened.

The touch was dry, hot, as if the fabric had trapped a lightning bolt.

Images jumped into his mind in disjointed flashes. An unfamiliar room, a metallic taste and… cookies?

His body reacted before his mind. He pulled the object out forcefully and threw it far away.

"Shit," he hissed, his heart out of rhythm.

Amy bent down and picked up what he had thrown.

A thin sharp x-acto knife, of a strange design, metallic, the handle with details that didn't match anything she had ever seen in 1984. She spun it between her fingers, the light reflecting in smooth curves.

"Do you recognize this?" she asked, looking at him.

Tyler was still breathing fast, his gaze fixed on the object as if it could bite. "It's not mine. And I have no idea how it ended up in my pocket."

Amy examined it carefully. "It doesn't look like it's from this time. The finish is different, kind of too modern."

Tyler ran his hands through his hair, irritated. "Dammit." The sound of the word was low, but sharp. "I've never felt anything like that."

"What?"

"Everything." He looked at his own bare hands, remembering the glove forgotten at the diner. "When I touched it, it was like opening the wrong door."

Amy closed the object and carefully put it inside her bag. "Then maybe we've found another door."

Tyler averted his gaze to the square. The trees swayed as if whispering something he didn't want to hear. The wind chilled the air between them.

"Shit." Tyler was putting his hands in and out of his coat pockets. "Shit!" he repeated, this time testing his pants pockets. "I lost my gloves, I must have left them at the diner."

Amy just watched, her dress fluttering, the bag hanging lightly on her shoulder. "It's fine, we were leaving anyway."

Tyler didn't answer.

The echo of the touch still pulsed inside his head as the sun began to hide behind the clouds.

From the shadows of the town square gazebo, Debby emerged. Silent as a snake sliding through dry leaves, she came with that thin, poisonous smile, her eyes shining with something cruel. Behind her, Josh followed, docile, his expression lost between guilt and loyalty.

Tyler felt the anger rise before he even understood the reason.

"Look who it is," said Debby, her tone syrupy and sharp. "Amy. What a surprise. Those drawings on your arms… are they real? Or just another attempt to look special?"

Amy didn't answer. Her chin lifted, and her eyes behind the glasses reflected the orange light of the late afternoon. Tyler took a step forward before she needed to open her mouth.

"Pity some people confuse personality with poison," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Debby arched an eyebrow, her smile remaining firm, almost amused. "Watch your tone, Tyler. Not everyone is what they seem. Be careful who you associate with."

He crossed his arms, about to respond, when he noticed her gaze fall on his hands.

Debby's gaze faltered for a second, and she moved away, as if his mere touch could burn.

"Josh," she called, her voice now low, vulnerable, the opposite of her usual authority.

Josh hesitated. "I… I'll finish things here. We'll talk later."

Tyler just nodded, without the strength to argue. He watched as the two walked away.

Debby laughing, Josh trying to keep up with her, the sound of their voices mixing with the cold breeze of the evening.

Amy put her hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry. She doesn't have the power she thinks she has."

"I don't care what he does." He tried to sound indifferent. "I have other plans for tonight."

Amy laughed, amused. "You're terrible at pretending."

He looked at her sideways, and a small, tired but sincere smile emerged. "Yeah. I know."

The sun stared back at them from behind the trees of Hollowcreek as they decided to return. The afternoon was already turning into a reddish twilight, and Moonwell Manor rose in the distance, shrouded in the night mist.

The air was denser, and the cold from the hill carried a silence that seemed to announce something.

Tyler walked beside Amy, the weight of the last hours still hanging between them.

She fixed her hair with her fingers and watched the sky. He, on the other hand, seemed restless, his gaze fixed on the ground, his hands in his pockets, as if each step took him to a place he didn't want to revisit.

She left him at the entrance to the mansion, the sky now stained with deep blue and blood. The moon was beginning to rise on the horizon, huge, alive, tinged with red. A blood moon.

Tyler entered. The echo of his steps filled the emptiness of the foyer.

♩  ♪  ♫ ♬ ♩  ♪  ♫ ♬ ♩  ♪  ♫ ♬ ♩  ♪  ♫ ♬ ♩  ♪  ♫ ♬♩  ♪  ♫ ♬ ♩  ♪  ♫ ♬ ♩  ♪  ♫ ♬ ♩  ♪  ♫ ♬ ♩  ♪  

O meu relógio bate zero, zero

E essa Lua cheia traz um sentimento

Eu fico louca pra te ver, isso parece um fogo

Arde de vontade, quero mais um pouco (pouco, pouco, pouco)

Juro que eu tentei não deixar rolar

Mas seu beijo é bom, dá pra viciar

Não dá pra dormir sem te ligar

Acabei de me apaixonar

♩  ♪  ♫ ♬ ♩  ♪  ♫ ♬ ♩  ♪  ♫ ♬ ♩  ♪  ♫ ♬ ♩  ♪  ♫ ♬♩  ♪  ♫ ♬ ♩  ♪  ♫ ♬ ♩  ♪  ♫ ♬ ♩  ♪  ♫ ♬ ♩  ♪  

The house breathed with him, the walls creaking in an almost organic way. He climbed the stairs slowly, his blue eyes reflecting the glow of the moon entering through the windows.

Josh's room was open. It was the largest in the house, with a balcony that overlooked the entire town of Hollowcreek.

The cold wind passed through the curtains, making them dance to the rhythm of the moonlight.

Tyler entered in silence.

Without hurry, he began to take off his clothes, piece by piece. The large coat fell onto the armchair, the shirt followed the same path. His skin gleamed pale under the red light.

The air seemed to vibrate around his body, charged with energy.

Lastly, he let his underwear slide down his legs, kicking it to the side.

He stood at the edge of the balcony, naked, the moon before him like a watchful eye.

He closed his eyes and let the light touch his skin.

It was hot and cold at the same time, a heat that came from within, an ancient vibration that ran through his veins like a call.

He felt the power pulsing beneath his skin, his youth rekindling as if the moon itself was returning everything time had taken. Each breath was a spark, each heartbeat an ancient spell being reborn.

He felt alive, but wounded. Strong, but empty.

It was then that he heard laughter.

He opened his eyes and leaned over the balcony parapet. Down below, coming up the stone path that led to the fountain, were Josh and Debby.

She was saying something and laughing, her fingers playing with his coat. Josh seemed awkward, averting his gaze, but he didn't pull away.

Tyler watched. Silent. Motionless.

When they stopped near the fountain, Debby turned to him, and the kiss came without hurry, intentional, invasive.

The world stopped.

Tyler felt his blood boil. The power responded before reason. The windows trembled, the curtain spun in the wind, the air in the room grew heavy.

He took a step back and pulled, with violence, the silk robe from the wooden hanger, the sound of the fabric tearing the silence.

He descended the stairs with the robe thrown over his shoulders, the anger pulsing blue beneath his skin.

Josh opened the door seconds later, his face still flushed and a timid smile on his lips.

Tyler was already there, standing on the staircase, his eyes shining with cold flames. "You. Filthy creature. Pathetic dog."

Josh stopped, surprised. "Tyler, what's wrong?"

"And you play the innocent."

A quick gesture, and the air exploded around him. The invisible force pushed Josh into the center of the room, his body falling heavily to the floor.

"It was just a kiss," he said, trying to get up.

"Just a kiss." Tyler's voice came sharp. "I tolerated you playing friends with her. But this… this was too much."

The floor began to vibrate. The lights flickered. Pictures tilted on the walls. The entire house seemed to breathe along with his fury.

"You can't treat me like this," Josh shouted, and his tone changed.

The air began to heat up.

His skin glowed, a golden light appearing at the edges of his body, his power responding to the pain. Heat filled the room, the floor cracking slightly under their feet.

"All you do is complain," Josh said, approaching. "You hide behind secrets, behind this mask. You knew what was happening and you stayed silent. You felt it when it all began. And while the children and adults suffered, you just watched."

Tyler retreated. The cold wall touched his back.

Josh was now so close that the heat burned his face.

"She's helping me," Josh continued, his voice hoarse, firm.

The younger man pressed his body against Tyler, trapping him, and then pressed his forearm against his neck.

"Debby and I are trying to fix it. And you? What did you do to help?"

Silence fell like a sentence.

Tyler stared at him, his eyes moist and his voice barely coming out. "I was raised by you," he said finally, his voice choked. "I dedicated my life to you like a faithful servant. I ignored my own desires, remained in this house out of love and loyalty. When you left me, I was the one who raised your progeny. I taught them what you asked. I kept your secrets. Centuries and centuries."

He breathed with difficulty. "Everything I did was for you. At your request… Agatha."

The name made the air freeze.

Josh looked at him, the fire dissolving in his eyes. The anger turned to guilt, and the power calmed.

He took a step forward, closing the distance. He touched Tyler's face with delicacy, and the cold and heat met.

The kiss came like a silent collapse. Sweet, tense, full of everything that was never said.

The house reacted.

The walls trembled. The lights exploded in a flash of blue and red. The wind entered through the windows, knocking down curtains and papers. Their energies mixed, rising through the ceiling.

Josh tasted the salt of Tyler's tears. He stopped and stared at the man before him, running his thumb over the tear tracks.

"Please, Tyler, no provocations this time, let's see this through..."

Tyler bit his lip and stroked Josh's face in response before pulling him in for another kiss.

Josh teleported them to his room. Tyler fell onto the mattress, dizzy from the sudden shift, sprawled out, robe half-open. The witch slowly removed his linen shirt from the edge of the bed in front of him.

The moonlight illuminated his body. A small vial appeared in his hand, it made a sound as the witch opened it and poured the contents onto his palm.

He leaned over the bed, his right hand extended, while the other gently parted Tyler's legs.

Tyler obeyed, mewling softly and covering his face with his arm. Josh applied the product to Tyler, spreading it over his cock, balls, and his hole.

Josh penetrated him with one finger slowly under the other's watchful gaze, and it didn't take long for him to find his spot.

Tyler moaned loudly, his body writhing on the mattress from the sensation. Whatever Josh had used grew warm on his skin.

Josh smiled before kissing his inner thigh, working his way up with kisses and licks to his groin.

After a few minutes, a second finger joined the first and Josh began to stretch Tyler open, slowly.

Almost like a mild torture. Tyler liked a torture.

The entire house lit up with a reddish glow.

His cold, Josh's heat, the sweet smell and the sound of wet kisses.

Tyler felt himself melting.

The taste of vanilla filled his mouth when Josh finally kissed him. His tongue was firm and demanding, dissolving what little control Tyler had left.

Josh's hands held him tightly, one on the nape of his neck, the other on his waist, pulling his body against his own.

There was no more anger. Only the desperation of lost time, the weight of a broken promise.

Josh moved against him, his body warm and solid. His hand slid along the seam of the robe, pushing the fabric aside to expose the pale skin of Tyler's shoulder.

He kissed there, then bit down hard. Tyler gasped, needy, tearful.

Josh responded with licks and kisses.

He pulled back slightly, his face just inches from Tyler's. "I love you," he whispered.

They looked at each other for a long moment, the air vibrating with energy.

Tyler didn't reply.

Josh sat up on the bed, Tyler's robe falling open further. He removed his own shorts, and his cock appeared, hard and red in the dim light.

Tyler watched him, breath caught.

Josh pulled him onto his lap. The robe slipped off completely, leaving Tyler's body naked against his.

He placed his hands on Tyler's buttocks, pressing his fingers against the already prepared hole. "Do you want this, Ty?"

Tyler could only manage an unintelligible mumble, his head falling onto Josh's shoulder.

Josh lifted him slightly and positioned him, his cock touching Tyler's entrance.

He pushed in slowly.

Tyler's world came undone.

Moan after moan escaped his mouth beyond his control.

"Oh heavens." He hugged Josh tightly.

Josh slid in to the hilt, his cock filling Tyler completely.

"You're so tight," Josh whispered in his ear, his voice hoarse. "I've been crazy to finally do this."

Tyler began to move, slowly at first, then faster, finding a rhythm that made them gasp together.

Josh's body was a map of muscles and heat under Tyler's fingers.

His kiss was hunger, the movement of his hips was possession.

The red light in the room grew stronger with each movement, pulsing like a heart.

Tyler felt their magic mixing in the air, dense and electric. His mind was empty, he could only think of Josh's heat inside him, the sound of skin against skin, the smell of sweat and vanilla.

Tyler's eyes glowed bright blue, Josh understood the signal when the other began to contract around him.

Everything lit up in blue as Tyler came on Josh's stomach.

With erratic, out-of-rhythm thrusts, Josh came inside him. The older man felt the witch's body vibrating against his.

He let himself fall back onto the bed, he trembled as Josh slipped out of him. He felt the other touching his entrance, spreading the come that dripped from it.

With his soiled hand, Josh smeared it on Tyler's chest and stomach. Marking him. "Mine." 

Then he licked the remainder.

Tyler rolled his eyes. "What is wrong with you Moonwells? Bunch of perverts."

The red and blue light mixed and faded.

The house fell silent again.

Josh lay down beside him, pulling the blanket over them both. He hugged Tyler from behind, his face buried in the other's hair. The scent of lavender and rain made him close his eyes.

For a while, the only sound was their breathing falling into sync.

"I miss when you were only mine," Josh whispered, his voice low and hesitant.

"I could say the same about you," Tyler said, his hand found Josh's forearm resting on his chest, their fingers intertwining.

"Debby apologized, said what happened the other day was a misunderstanding," Josh pulled their bodies close again.

His semi-hard erection nudged against Tyler's buttocks, asking for passage between his cheeks once more. He could feel the head of Josh's cock practically sliding, touching his balls.

"Nothing that girl says will change my opinion of her-" Tyler moaned as Josh grabbed his cock and began to pump it.

He moved away to get the bottle again. "I liked this. Amy gave it to me." He came closer and applied a generous amount to Tyler's cock and his own, then, moving near, began to jerk them both together.

Tyler moaned and moved against his warm body.

"Tyler, if you only knew," Josh said. "how much I love you."

Tyler shook his head, without turning. "Y-you don't know what you're saying, dog."

"Yes, I do," Josh kissed his shoulder. "Not Debby, not anyone, could ever make me feel what I feel with you."

Tyler turned to face Josh. His eyes were sad, but there was no more anger. "I don't want to go through that again Josh, I don't want to watch another fragile mortal I love die."

The younger man kissed him, cutting off the sentence. "That doesn't matter right now, let's live in the present and we'll figure it out later."

The confession hung in the air, heavy and true.

Tyler closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them, the sadness had been replaced by a weary resignation. "I… " He ran his hand through Josh's hair. "I love you too."

He leaned in and the two kissed slowly, as if they had all the time in the world.

Then they reached their peak together.

Josh and Tyler had sex several more times that night.

Tyler's body, energized and recharged by the Moon, could handle that routine for a week if Josh demanded it.

So after some lazy sex with both lying on their sides and Josh holding Tyler's leg firmly, they both yawned and fell asleep.

Tyler woke the next morning to the sound of the telephone downstairs. He felt the weight of Josh leaving his side and then drifted off again.

When he woke up, Josh was coming out of the bathroom wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist. Steam billowed behind him. The smell of shampoo and aftershave lotion filled his nostrils.

Tyler squirmed lazily in bed. Josh approached and climbed onto the mattress, his weight dipping it. His body was completely wet.

Tyler hated this habit of Josh's.

Sometimes he would leave the bathroom without drying off, then stop near him and shake his wet hair just to irritate him.

Josh positioned himself over him and then gave him a tender, wet kiss on the lips. Tyler grumbled in response.

"Good morning, kitten," Josh kissed his neck and slid his hand down, enveloping Tyler's fully hard cock.

"Hmmm," Josh began slow movements. Very slow. Painfully slow.

It was torture. But Tyler liked a good torture.

His eyes closed and he surrendered to the pleasure.

Josh stopped and looked at him, amused. "Tyler..." he chuckled. "Are you purring?"

Tyler opened his eyes, the moment broken. "You're an idiot?"

Josh smiled apologetically and continued stroking Tyler until he came, moaning against his kisses.

"Josh... please," he pushed his bare butt against the fabric of Josh's towel, but he moved away.

"Not now, Tyler, I need to go into town." Tyler whined petulantly.

"Josh, please-pleaasee-"

"It's not Debby, it's Mark, I promise," Josh was putting on a clean shirt, he turned to the mirror, buttoning it up. "He called early this morning and we arranged to meet about the house." Tyler fell silent.

As Josh was leaving, Tyler called out to him and said, "Whatever decision you're going to make. Be prudent." Josh nodded and disappeared through the door.

Tyler sat there for a moment, his legs off the bed, staring at Josh's shirt as if confronting a recent memory.

He picked up the garment with both hands, brought it to his face, and took a deep breath. Josh's scent was there, clean and warm, mixed with the remnants of the night.

The sensation came like a controlled shiver down his back. He held his breath, let it out slowly, and put the shirt on. The fabric fell lightly over his shoulders, a bit large, the hem brushing his hips.

He stood up, pulled on a pair of pants from the floor, and left the room.

He descended the stairs without hurry, the wood creaking slightly with each step. The mansion seemed suspended.

He crossed the main hallway, running his hand over everything at finger height, the back of a chair, the cold edge of a sideboard, the polished brass of a lamp, the raised detail of a painting.

A touch per object, distracted, as if testing the reality of things without commitment.

He stopped in the kitchen doorway and leaned against the frame, arms crossed. The light came in through the window above the sink and hit the glass aquarium, leaving bright streaks on its sides.

Inside, the little rat was rummaging in the wood shavings with its paws, burying its snout, coming up, stopping to scratch its cheek with a tiny paw.

"Seems it's just the two of us again," Tyler said, in a tone that was neither complaint nor joke, just a statement of fact.

The rat noticed the voice and gave a little jump, its black eyes wide for a second. It stood on its tiptoes, sniffing.

Tyler approached the counter slowly. "I come in peace."

He opened the refrigerator, rummaged in the vegetable drawer, and took out a firm carrot. He placed it on the cutting board, sliced it into rounds, then into small cubes. He held a piece against the glass, so the scent would pass through.

"I know these are your favorites."

The rat came forward, with both caution and eagerness. It took the cube with its tiny hands, sat back on its haunches, and began to nibble with focus, its teeth working quickly, silently.

Then it looked up at him for two or three seconds, as if acknowledging a kindness, and went back to eating.

"You're welcome," said Tyler, almost at the volume of a thought.

The sound of knocks on the door interrupted the silence. Two, then a third, a little weaker.

Tyler moved away from the doorframe in an automatic gesture, smoothed the front of the linen shirt slightly, and crossed the hall.

He opened the door expecting to see Josh's figure leaning against the frame, a crooked smile, any unimportant phrase that would resolve the morning. It wasn't him.

Val was on the threshold, her face pale and her expression unfocused. Her eyes held entire nights. Her lips were pressed together, her hands restless, squeezing her fingertips.

Tyler tried to lift his chin to maintain the distance he was accustomed to giving back to the world. His voice, however, came out with a crack of worry. "You shouldn't be here. It's dangerous."

Val took a step, stopped. "Debby is acting strange," she said, and had to breathe before continuing. "All the adults are. I… I have nowhere else to go."