It was a nice, sunny day—one of those days that begged you to step outside and lose yourself in nature. For Jason, it was the perfect opportunity to breathe in the fresh air, feel the warmth of the sun on his skin, and sketch the images that refused to leave his mind. Usually, he only did that in his room, but today was different. The rain had finally let up after weeks of cold, gray skies. It was a chance to enjoy the rare moment of peace.

  He sat on a bench in the park, flipping open his sketchbook. The park itself was vast, a winding maze of towering trees and narrow paths that twisted and turned unpredictably. If you weren’t familiar with it, you could easily get lost. Jason liked that. There was something calming about being surrounded by nature—birds singing overhead, leaves rustling in the breeze, the occasional ripple on the pond’s surface as a duck glided across. Here, his restless mind felt… lighter.

  "Alright... let’s finish this one."

  Jason glanced down at his drawing. A woman’s face stared back at him—sharp, elegant, haunting. He didn’t know who she was, yet she appeared in his mind almost every day.

  "Just who are you…?" he murmured, his pencil gliding across the page, refining the curve of her lips. On paper, she was a sketch. But in his mind… she was real.

  Long, flowing white hair that shimmered like silk in an unseen breeze, moving as if it had a life of its own. Her features were striking—high cheekbones, a delicate nose, lips that curved in quiet knowing—or dangerous amusement. But her eyes… they were what lingered. Icy blue, glowing like frozen fire, so sharp they seemed to cut through him even now.

  Every time he saw her, something inside him ached. A pull he couldn’t explain. It wasn’t just longing—it was familiarity. Like she was someone he had lost. Someone who had once mattered more than anything.

  "Jason, my man! I knew I’d find you here."

  A sudden weight dropped onto his back, making him jolt slightly. He didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

  Tyler.

  Before Jason could react, Tyler swung over the bench and landed beside him with the kind of easy confidence that made everything feel normal.

  "Good to see you, buddy," Tyler said, grinning as he leaned back, arms stretching along the top of the bench like he owned the place.

  Jason let out a small laugh, shaking his head. "Hey, T. Sorry I didn’t call, I just—"

  "Yeah, yeah, I know. You wanted some alone time to sketch." Tyler leaned in, eyeing the drawing. His grin faded.

  "Again?" He sighed, shaking his head. "Dude, we talked about this. How many times are you gonna sketch her? We checked everywhere. She’s not real, man. If she was, we’d have found her by now."

  Jason smirked. He knew Tyler was right. But that didn’t change the fact that something inside him wouldn’t let this go.

  Tyler groaned, slapping Jason on the shoulder. "Look, I’m just saying, you don’t look as good as me—obviously—but you’re not bad either. There are real girls out there, man. Jess has been eyeing you. Tall, blonde, and those—" He made a gesture. "Yeahhh."

  Jason rolled his eyes. "Come on, T. Stop daydreaming. Don’t you already have a girlfriend?"

  "Sure. But I’m still a man, my friend. Can’t just turn my eyes off."

  Jason huffed a laugh. For now, at least, everything felt normal. Comfortable. But deep down, that nagging feeling remained—a whisper at the back of his mind, something he couldn’t quite hear.

  "You know what?" Tyler reached for the stack of sketches. "Let me see what else you’ve got. You always draw some crazy stuff, but maybe I’ll like it."

  Jason handed him the sketchbook, watching as Tyler flipped through the pages.

  "Hmm… not bad. You could definitely make a living as an artist."

  Jason smiled.

  "But what’s this one? Never seen it before."

  "Huh?" Jason turned his head. Tyler was holding up a drawing Jason didn’t remember making.

  A man, falling.

  He was plunging into the heart of a storm, his body swallowed by a swirling abyss of clouds and lightning. The sky itself seemed to ripple with something unnatural, jagged veins of electricity twisting in chaotic patterns.

  Jason’s fingers twitched as he took the sheet from Tyler.

  "I don’t remember drawing this…" he muttered.

  Tyler let out a short laugh, but it sounded wrong. "Maybe you did it when you were half-asleep, man. You get way too into this sometimes."

  Jason kept staring at the page. His heartbeat had quickened, though he wasn’t sure why.

  "Hey, T… this’ll sound weird, but I feel like—"

  "Let it go, man," Tyler interrupted. He forced a chuckle, but something in his tone was off. Too casual. "It’s just a sketch. Who knows when or why you did it? Probably one of those ‘lost in the moment’ things, haha."

  Jason frowned. Tyler’s grin was still there, but now that he was looking closer, something about it felt off.

  His usual relaxed confidence had a tension beneath it. His hands were gripping his knees a little too tightly.

  Was it Jason’s imagination, or was Tyler… sweating?

  Jason narrowed his eyes. "You okay, man? You look like you’ve seen a ghost."

  "Me? Never been better, haha."

  Again, offbeat. Tyler’s laugh had never sounded so forced. His gaze flickered away, avoiding Jason’s.

  Jason exhaled sharply, deciding to let it drop. "Alright then…"

  He turned his eyes toward the pond, watching the ripples dance across the surface.

  Tyler must’ve noticed his mood shift. "Hey, I know what you’re thinking about," he said. "But it won’t be so bad. Hopefully."

  Jason clenched his jaw. "It’s just one day…"

  "I hate it, man. Every time he’s there, he makes fun of me. Always trying to provoke me. Sometimes when I see him, I just want to—"

  Jason cut himself off, closing his eyes. That feeling again. That strange, burning heat inside him. Like fire, waiting to be unleashed. He swallowed it down.

  Tyler clapped him on the back. "Don’t worry, man. I’ll be there too. Nothing bad will happen. I swear."

  "If you say so…" Jason started gathering his things—but then froze.

  The drawing of the storm was gone.

  He flipped through the stack, scanning each page. Nothing.

  "Hey, T… have you seen that sketch? The one with the storm?"

  Tyler blinked. "Huh? No. I checked the others, but I didn’t see anything with a storm."

  Jason’s stomach twisted. "We just talked about it a few minutes ago."

  But Tyler’s face was blank. No flicker of recognition.

  Jason hesitated. "You know what… forget it."

  His skin prickled.

  He knew he had been holding that drawing. He knew they had just talked about it.

  So where did it go?

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Or maybe… Tyler?

  Jason and Tyler walked side by side, their steps unhurried as they made their way toward the park’s exit. The air was thick with the lingering scent of damp earth from the recent rains, laced with the faint aroma of blooming flowers. The sun hung low in the sky, its golden rays cutting through the canopy of leaves, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow across the path. The world felt softer—almost dreamlike.

  Jason adjusted the strap of his bag, rolling his shoulders as if trying to shake off the strange feeling gnawing at the edges of his mind. “You know… maybe I just misplaced it,” he muttered. “The drawing, I mean.”

  Tyler shrugged, hands tucked casually into his pockets. “Yeah, see? No big deal.”

  Jason glanced at him, frowning slightly. Something about his reaction didn’t sit right. Tyler hadn’t even helped him look for the sketch earlier. And now, he was brushing it off like it didn’t matter.

  “But you really don’t remember?” Jason pressed. “We were literally talking about it.”

  Tyler clicked his tongue. “Dude, let it go. You’re obsessing over some random sketch. It’s not like it was important.”

  Jason narrowed his eyes. That was exactly what made it so strange. It felt important. More than just another page in his sketchbook.

  But arguing wasn’t going to change anything. He sighed, raking a hand through his hair, and turned his gaze ahead—

  Then he saw him.

  A lone figure sat on a bench just off the main path, slightly hunched over, a sketchbook resting on his knee. His posture was relaxed, yet his hand moved with unnerving precision, his pencil gliding across the page in swift, deliberate strokes. There was something almost mechanical about it—like he wasn’t just drawing, but recording something he already knew.

  Jason slowed his steps, unable to look away.

  It wasn’t just the way he drew—it was the air around him. The quiet satisfaction in the curve of his lips. The certainty in his movements, as if each line had already been decided before his pencil ever touched the page.

  Jason’s stomach tightened. Where have I seen him before?

  The thought struck like a spark in dry wood, igniting something deep within him. A memory—buried, just out of reach.

  His gaze drifted downward, watching the man’s hands—the way his fingers moved, the way he gripped the pencil—his mind struggling to place him, to pull the pieces together—

  Then, as if sensing his stare, the man suddenly looked up.

  Jason froze.

  For a brief moment, everything seemed to slow.

  The man's expression shifted—his smirk fading, replaced by something else. Recognition.

  Jason’s breath caught. He knows me.

  His sharp, calculating eyes flickered with something unreadable. Surprise? Annoyance?

  Then, just as quickly, the warmth drained from his face. His gaze darkened.

  With a sharp, almost angry motion, he snapped the sketchbook shut.

  Jason took half a step forward—

  “Yo, Jason!”

  Tyler’s voice cut through the moment like a blade.

  Jason flinched. He turned—And when he looked back—The man was gone.

  Jason’s breath hitched. He scanned the benches, the paths, the trees—nothing. No movement. No trace of him. Like he had never been there at all.

  “You good, man?” Tyler asked, raising a brow.

  Jason hesitated. His chest felt tight, his mind racing. He opened his mouth—then closed it.

  “…Yeah,” he lied.

  He forced himself to keep walking, but his steps felt heavier now, like he was wading through something unseen.

  The unease lingered.

  The feeling that he had just witnessed something he wasn’t meant to see.

  And worse—

  That man had recognized him too.

  Tyler, oblivious to Jason’s inner turmoil, stretched his arms over his head. “Alright then, how about we stop by Chick-fil-A? I’m starving, and you must be too! You know what they say—you’re not yourself when you’re hungry.”

  Jason blinked, forcing a smile. “Haha, maybe you’re right…”

  For now, he decided to let it go.

  But something told him he wouldn’t be able to forget that man.

  Jason shut his locker with a soft clank, his fingers lingering on the cold metal for a second longer than needed. He shifted his weight, scanning the hallway with subtle nervousness. Something felt off. Maybe it was just the growing tension in his chest, or maybe it was the low hum of the TV mounted on the wall nearby, broadcasting an emergency weather report.

  "A powerful storm is expected to hit the town later today. Heavy rain and strong winds are forecasted. Residents are advised to stay indoors when possible."

  Jason exhaled slowly, watching the flickering screen. A storm. Of course. His fingers curled slightly, remembering the missing sketch—the one of a man falling into a storm’s eye. The one that Tyler claimed not to remember.

  “Hey, don’t overthink it,” Tyler nudged him, snapping him back to the present. “And don’t let Nelson get under your skin today, alright?”

  Jason shot him a side glance. “No promises.”

  Tyler sighed. “Look, I know he’s an ass, but you can’t let him get to you. The way he talks, the way he makes people laugh at you—it’s all calculated. He wants you to snap, man.”

  Jason clenched his jaw. He knew Tyler was right. Nelson never laid a hand on him. He didn’t have to. His charisma did all the work, turning a single insult into a spectacle. A casual comment twisted just enough to make Jason look paranoid, unstable. It was always the same—Nelson’s smug grin, the laughter of students who didn’t even know why they were laughing, the heat rising in Jason’s chest, threatening to set something ablaze.

  A light voice pulled him from his thoughts.

  “Jason?”

  He turned to see Jessica standing nearby, her soft smile framed by golden hair. She shifted her weight, fingers playing with the strap of her bag.

  “I was hoping I’d run into you,” she said. “So… any plans this weekend?”

  Jason blinked. The warmth in her tone was unmistakable. He could see it in the way she leaned slightly closer, in the hopeful glint in her eyes. She wanted him to ask her out. But all Jason could think about was the face from his sketches—the woman with flowing white hair and icy blue eyes, the one who existed nowhere but in his mind.

  “Uh… I haven’t really thought about it,” he said, glancing away.

  Jessica hesitated, then smiled again, covering the awkward pause. “Well… let me know if you do.” She turned and disappeared into the crowded hallway.

  Tyler smirked, shaking his head. “Man, you are hopeless.”

  Jason only exhaled, rubbing his temples.

  The class droned on, but Jason barely registered it. Professor Jefferson’s voice faded into the background, lost beneath the steady rhythm of rain hammering against the window.

  It started slow. A few drops. Then more.

  The storm outside churned, heavy clouds swirling like something unnatural was brewing above the town. Jason stared at it, unease coiling deep in his gut. The missing sketch. The man in the park. Tyler’s odd behavior. The storm on the news.

  What the hell is happening?

  A dull ache pulsed at his temples. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing it away.

  Smack.

  A folded piece of paper hit the side of his head. Jason turned, his pulse quickening.

  Laughter rippled through the room.

  Nelson leaned back in his seat, a lazy smirk on his face. “What’s up, Picasso? Dreaming about your imaginary girlfriend again?”

  More laughter. Jason’s fingers curled into fists under the desk.

  Nelson’s voice dropped to a whisper. “You know, people are starting to talk. The way you zone out, obsess over drawings no one else sees? Maybe you’re not all there.”

  Jason’s breath came sharp through his nose. The fire in his chest flared—hot, volatile.

  "Jason," Professor Jefferson’s voice cut through the tension. "Are you paying attention?"

  Jason forced himself to face forward. “Yeah. Sorry.”

  “Good. Focus on the lesson.”

  Nelson leaned back, satisfied. But Jason could still feel the heat burning inside him.

  Outside, the storm darkened.

  Another flick. Another piece of paper.

  Jason clenched his jaw. Stay calm.

  A final crumpled note landed on his desk.

  "Do you hear them laughing, psycho?"

  His fingers closed around it. Too tight. The edges crumpled beneath his grip.

  Then—

  FLASH.

  The world went white.

  BOOM.

  Thunder shook the windows.

  And Jason wasn’t in the classroom anymore.

  Cold.

  It sank into his skin, into his bones.

  Jason knelt on rough stone, shackled in thick, magic-infused metal. The cuffs burned like embers against his wrists, suppressing the fire that yearned to break free. His breaths were ragged, the air thick with the scent of sweat and blood.

  The cloth covering his face was yanked away.

  Blinding light. A deafening roar.

  A coliseum.

  Thousands of faces packed the stands—some cheering, some laughing, some eerily silent. But a few… a few looked afraid.

  They knew.

  This was no spectacle. This was something far worse.

  And then—

  "As I promised you, people of Arrigar!"

  The voice rang out, smooth, theatrical. Jason didn’t need to look. He knew who it belonged to.

  Bellion.

  "The mighty Jason—"

  A pause. A hollow, eerie silence where his surname should be. Like the world itself refused to acknowledge it.

  "—kneeling before you, chained, broken, humiliated!"

  Boots clicked against the stone. A slow, deliberate pace. Bellion circled him like a predator savoring the moment.

  The crowd roared.

  A hand clamped onto Jason’s shoulder.

  Hot breath at his ear.

  "Look at you," Bellion murmured. "Still trying to fight back. It’s useless."

  Fingers dug into Jason’s flesh.

  "And you know what? The real fun is just beginning."

  Then—

  "Bring her up!"

  The cheers turned deafening.

  Jason’s blood turned to ice.

  They dragged her forward.

  Esméris.

  Her long white hair, streaked with dirt and blood, cascaded over her shoulders. The once-elegant dress was torn, sullied by dust and cruelty.

  But her eyes.

  They were still hers.

  Those icy, luminous blue eyes—sharp as a dagger, burning with defiance even as she trembled.

  Jason’s breath caught.

  “Esmé…” His voice barely escaped.

  “Jason…” she whispered. Weak, but unwavering.

  The crowd roared.

  "Kill her!"

  "They murdered our sons!"

  "Make them suffer!"

  Jason barely heard them over the pounding in his ears. His heart drummed against his skull. His hands clenched. The chains bit into his skin.

  Bellion.

  The man loomed over them, golden-trimmed cloak billowing as he drank in the chaos.

  Then—casually, lazily—he crouched beside Esméris, fingers brushing her cheek.

  Jason’s entire body went rigid.

  “BELLION!”

  The name thundered from his throat, raw, furious.

  Bellion paused. Just for a fraction of a second.

  And Jason saw it.

  A flicker of something. A shadow of hesitation in his eyes.

  Then, just as quickly, it was gone—replaced by amusement.

  "What a shame," Bellion mused. His fingers glided lower, tilting Esméris’s chin toward him.

  And then—

  SLAP.

  The sound cracked through the air like a whip.

  Esméris’s head snapped sideways. She crumpled to the ground, her hair spilling over the stone. A thin trickle of blood from her lips.

  Jason couldn’t breathe.

  "No…"

  The word barely left him. Small. Fragile.

  Bellion turned to the crowd, arms wide.

  "DO YOU SEE THIS? THE GREAT JASON—, BROKEN AT LAST!"

  Jason’s vision blurred. His body trembled. The fire inside him clawed, desperate to rise.

  "No…"

  The world flickered—reds, oranges, deep, consuming shadows.

  "No…"

  It hurt. The pressure. The heat.

  His chains burned against his skin.

  "NO! —ENOUGH, YOU INFERIOR CREATURE!"

  CRACK.

  A deafening explosion of golden fire.

  His chains—gone.

  The stone beneath him—shattered.

  The crowd’s cheers turned to screams.

  Jason rose. His flames, blinding and wrathful, turned the coliseum into a raging inferno.

  Bellion staggered back, his smirk finally wiped clean.

  Jason’s fire-filled eyes locked onto him.

  And then, with a voice that rumbled like an oncoming storm—

  "Now it’s my turn."