Chapter 4 Portal

HE LED ME UP the stairs to the last door on the right, though he hesitated before even opening it.

“This room is vacant at the moment; however, it used to belong to an old friend of ours, so please try not to touch many things in the room.”

“Of course.” I agreed and then added. “As long as you bring what I asked for.”

Amusement sparked across his face, making him an open book compared to the other man. He seemed to be just as tall as the other man, easily over 6'4. However, the first man had the build of a soldier. This man was more built for building things, with a mind that seemed to be three steps ahead of even his own body. His hair was a wild mess of white sticking out in untamed tufts, as if he had either just rolled out of bed or had been too deep in a project to bother smoothing it down.

Smudges of grease streaked across his face and hands, evidence of long hours spent working with machines or technology. His sharp blue eyes are filled with intelligence and an almost manic curiosity. Constantly darting around as if assessing everything in the room at once, while probably thinking just as fast. Even his clothes had clearly seen better days, sewn together from different fabrics and reinforced in places where the seams had probably given out long ago. The sleeves of his jacket were uneven; one was rolled up to the elbow while the other hung loose, both stained with oil and grease.

His boots had scuff marks from years of use, wearing down the leather, along with his gloves. Even if they had started as a matching pair, they were now tattered, barely holding together at the fingertips. Despite his rough appearance, there was something alive about him; an energy crackled beneath the surface, as if he was always one thought away from a new invention or a reckless decision. Basically, he was the taller version of me when I dived deep into one of my inventions, though I have at least never let myself go as much as he seemed to have. My inventions were a big part of who I am.

I could never live without them, but they're not everything to me, like they seem to be to this guy. I gave him a nod before I slipped into the room, closing the door behind me. I didn't even bother to sit down before I started glancing around the room. The air was thick with dust, the kind that clung to everything like a second skin. It swirled in lazy patterns with every step I took, making it obvious no one had been in here for years.

The stillness in the air felt heavy and untouched, as if the room itself had been holding its breath, waiting for someone to return and disturb it. Drawings covered the walls, some pinned haphazardly while others were curled at the edges where the adhesive had failed. They depicted all kinds of things, but the majority were creatures twisted, nightmarish things with too many limbs, hollow eyes and gaping mouths lined with jagged teeth. Among the creatures were strange Landscapes places that looked warped and wrong, as if reality had stretched too thin. There were also people, some drawn in meticulous detail while others were sketched so hastily they were barely more than silhouettes.

There were so many of those drawings that it made the room feel crowded, as if I wasn't alone and instead was being watched by hundreds of faceless eyes. Near the bed, a pair of boots sat neatly on the floor, coated in thick layers of dust. Years of use had cracked and worn the leather. Yet they remained in their place as if waiting for someone to slip them on again. Dust coated the sheets and blankets on the made bed.

The fine layer of dust dulling the fabric’s original color, rendering it lifeless and gray. Against one wall stood a desk, just as dusty as everything else, while the surface of it was littered with unfinished drawings. Some were half erased, others abandoned mid-stroke, the pencil still resting where someone had left it, as if the owner had planned to return at any moment but never did. Faint smudges of graphite and ink stained the wood, and in the dim light, I could make out the faded outline of a handprint as if someone had leaned there for hours, lost in their work. The entire room carried an Erie sense of abandonment, not just a space left to gather dust but of a life interrupted.

Someone had once lived here, breathed here, created here, and then simply… stopped. Why did they stop, though? What exactly happened to them?

AS I WATCHED THE surveillance from one of my curfew nightmares, I couldn't help but smirk. “It seems your brother is finally back, my little nightmare maker.”

I told the sweet little thing who knelt in front of me, and his head jerked up from the bowed position he usually stayed in. His usually dead eyes widened in surprise when they saw the image in front of him.

“Though from the looks of him our mutual friend must have taken away his memories and his old abilities I wonder how she expects him to survive in this world like that hmm no matter I should probably move up the day of the trials to honor his return what do you think my little nightmare maker?”

He turned his head to face me, and any of the emotions I had seen earlier were long gone, replaced with the familiar deadness I had grown accustomed to. I wasn't surprised, but I had secretly hoped they would remain a little longer. It makes me miss the spitfire he was when I first imprisoned him; the curses is used to spit out along with the glares he would send me would secretly make me grin. Actually, I was going to steal this sweet little one first, but he ran home to his brother who took his place, and while I usually wouldn't be so keen to let my true target switch places. His brother was willing to do anything to keep this sweet little one out of my hands, so I decided to indulge him until I grew bored and replace him with his brother.

However, he had to be stolen by her, which pissed me off to no end, especially when he didn't come back. She would never keep him against his will, which meant he thought being stolen wouldn't be a breach of our contract. He was wrong, so wrong.