While waiting for Mokkal to start explaining, I sat on a chair that creaked beneath my weight, the wood worn smooth from years of use. The dim light in the room cast long shadows, and the faint smell of old books and dust hung in the air, creating a sense of timelessness. I found myself silently pondering the meaning of his previous words, my mind racing with questions.
Who is he referring to?
The silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken thoughts. I could hear the faint ticking of a clock somewhere in the room, each tick echoing my growing anxiety. It felt as if time itself was holding its breath, waiting for Mokkal to reveal whatever truth lay hidden behind his cryptic statements.
“Can you tell me why you’ve sought me out?” he finally asked, breaking the silence.
I took a deep breath, steadying myself. “Sure. One night when I was 13, I got lost while venturing out with my friends and found myself in a cave. Inside that cave, I found a corpse. As I got closer to the corpse, time felt like it was moving slower and slower. When I finally reached it and touched the corpse, it disappeared. That was the first night I had a special dream, and ever since then, they’ve been coming more frequently. Their quantity keeps increasing as time goes on.”
Mokkal leaned back in his chair, his expression contemplative as he processed my words. After what felt like an eternity of silence, he sighed heavily.
“You have fused with a really powerful individual who perished a long time ago.”
Fused with a powerful individual who died long ago? What does that even mean? The words hung in the air like an ominous cloud.
“Wh—What does that mean?” I stammered, confusion swirling in my mind.
He looked at me with pity, and for a moment, I felt small under his gaze. “I’m sorry, kid, but it means that eventually you’ll be replaced by him... most likely.”
What did it mean to be replaced? Would I simply vanish, my existence erased as if I had never been? The very idea sent a chill coursing through my veins. I glanced around the room, seeking something—anything—to anchor me in this moment. The old wooden chair creaked beneath me, a reminder of my physical presence in this reality.
“Replaced? How?” My voice trembled slightly as dread settled in my stomach.
“He’ll revive within your body and you’ll stop existing... Best case scenario, you’ll exist just as he does now—in a state of deep slumber.”
Revive within my body? Stop existing? No way.
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“Can I stop it?” I asked instinctively, desperation creeping into my tone.
“Who knows? Maybe you can; maybe you can’t.”
Is he for real? Am I really going to die just like that? Because I touched some corpse? No way... He didn’t say it’s unpreventable. Can I trust him? He has no reason to lie... right?
---
“How can I prevent it?” After contemplating for a few minutes, I asked him again, urgency lacing my words.
“If you stay as you are, you will surely die,” he replied slowly. “But getting stronger might offer you an opportunity.”
“What’s his name?”
“It might be better not to mention him; it could speed up his revival within you.”
“...Alright. How do you even know who he is though?”
“There’s only one person who could manipulate time to such an extent even after his death.”
Strangely enough, I felt somewhat amused by this revelation—a flicker of irony in my otherwise grim situation. Perhaps this was the remnant of that individual influencing me.
“Why would you touch a corpse though?” Mokkal asked suddenly.
“When I first saw it,” I explained slowly, “it seemed as though it was just a person sleeping. But the closer I got, the more decomposed it became.”
“And who are you calling a kid? I’m 23,” I shot back defensively.
His expression shifted to one of amusement as he answered. “It’s because I've lived for centuries.”
“Really?”
“The stronger you get, the longer your lifespan is. Of course, my aspect has a lot to do with it.” His one eye gleamed with an ancient wisdom that sent shivers down my spine.
“Anyhow,” he continued smoothly, “were there any items with the corpse?”
“No,” I answered honestly.
“I guess it's to be expected,” he said thoughtfully.
“Why?”
“After a person with powers dies, their power leaks out and forms a relic in most cases.”
The weight of his words settled heavily on my shoulders as silence enveloped us once more. The air felt charged with unspoken possibilities and fears.
“How do I acquire powers?” The question slipped from my lips before I could second-guess myself.
He smiled faintly but did not answer immediately. Instead, he turned his gaze toward the window where shadows danced in the fading light. The room seemed to grow colder as if the very air held its breath in anticipation of what was to come next.