Twins’ Room - Howl of the Beast

The night was unnaturally dark, the kind of blackness that swallows all light, extinguishing the stars and cloaking the world in a veil of shadow. Lucian could feel the cold seeping into his bones as he raced through the twisted woods behind his family’s estate, heart pounding in his chest like a war drum. His feet barely touched the ground, the earth beneath him slick with the damp chill of an unnatural frost. Each step sent a jarring vibration up his legs as the uneven terrain of the woods slowed his desperate flight.

The trees loomed overhead like sentinels, their skeletal branches stretching outwards, twisted into grotesque shapes that swayed, burdened by a presence felt yet not visible. Each limb seemed alive, grasping, reaching for him, the black bark glistening as though wet with some dark substance. Lucian’s breath came out in ragged gasps, each exhale a small cloud of mist in the frigid air.

He did not know where he was running to—only away from the things that pursued him. He could hear them now: the howls. Deep, guttural sounds that reverberated through the trees, shaking the very air around him. They were no longer distant. They were closer. Too close. Lucian did not dare to look back, but the urge was almost unbearable, as though some unseen power pulled at his senses, taunting him with something horrible lurking just out of sight.

His legs ached, every muscle screaming in protest as he pushed through the brambles that whipped at his face, leaving stinging welts on his cheeks and hands. The forest felt different now, the familiar trails replaced by a labyrinth of undergrowth and hostile shadows. The path twisted and coiled around him like a serpent, the once cosy woods contorted into something malevolent, watching, waiting.

A flash of movement caught the corner of his eye—something too fast to track, too large to be anything natural. His heart lurched in his chest, and an icy spike of terror shot through him. The howls grew louder, closer, as the creatures that haunted his dreams for weeks closed in. He could feel their presence now, not just hear them, as though their very essence gnawed at the edges of reality itself.

Lucian stumbled as the ground beneath his feet grew uneven. He barely caught himself on a nearby tree, its bark cold and slick under his fingers. For a moment, he glanced up, and through the gaps in the dark canopy, he could see the night sky, once filled with stars now shrouded in a suffocating mist. A reddish moon hovered above, casting a faint glow that only heightened the eerie atmosphere.

Ahead, the flicker of flames appeared in the distance, bright and wild. His home. The stone walls of the Daiwik estate were barely visible through the growing smoke and encroaching darkness, but it was there, a beacon amidst the hellscape the woods had become. But something was wrong. The flames that licked the edges of the trees weren’t natural; they twisted and writhed as though they were alive, consuming everything in their path but leaving no light, only destruction.

Panic surged in his chest as Lucian forced his legs to move, despite the overwhelming dread that slowed him down, his limbs as heavy as led. He knew what awaited him in that house, but there was nowhere else to go. The wolves were behind him, their growls filling the night like a death knell.

As he broke free from the last of the undergrowth, he felt the ground shift beneath him, like ash ready to crumble into nothingness. He stumbled, collapsing onto the cold, jagged stones of the patio. The once-grand facade of his family home loomed ahead, but it was not as he remembered. The walls were blackened with soot, gaping holes where windows should have been, and the roof had caved in, exposing the gutted interior to the night sky.

The wolves were closer now. He could hear them, the low growls like a constant hum of impending doom. His legs gave out, and Lucian collapsed to his knees, his palms scraping against the sharp stones. His breath hitched as a wave of nausea and terror rolled over him.

He scrambled forward, desperate, pulling himself into the house. Inside, it was worse. The destruction was total. The air was thick with smoke, every breath a struggle as his lungs burned. Moonlight streamed in through the cracks and holes in the walls, casting an eerie glow over the charred remnants of his home.

Lucian’s chest tightened with dread as he moved further inside, his eyes scanning the debris-filled room. And then he saw them. His parents. They laid twisted, crumpled amidst the destruction, motionless. Their immovable forms were soaked in a dark, glistening red pool, the moonlight reflecting off it in cruel, cold light. Lucian’s breath caught, a wave of grief and horror surging through him as his eyes fixed on the bite marks carved into their necks. Deep. Ragged. The unmistakable signs of a wolf’s fangs.

His vision blurred with tears, his hands trembling as he reached out, fingers hovering just above his mother’s cold skin. A strangled sob escaped his throat, but before he could touch her, the sound of a howl split the air—a long, mournful cry that sent a shiver down his spine.

His head snapped up, and through the gaping hole in the wall, he saw them. Four shadowy figures moving with deliberate, predatory grace across the yard, their massive forms illuminated by the flickering firelight. Their eyes—yellow, glowing like embers—were fixed on him, watching, waiting.

Lucian tried to stand, but his legs were weak, his body frozen with fear. The wolves moved closer, and the air grew colder with each step they took. His heart pounded in his chest, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. He was trapped.

A rustling behind him made him whirl around, just in time to catch a glimpse of movement—a massive, dark shape looming in the shadows. Two glowing yellow eyes peered at him from the darkness, and a low, guttural growl filled the air. Lucian’s blood ran cold.

The beast stepped forward, its muscular frame towering over him, teeth bared, claws scraping against the floor as it prepared to lunge.

Lucian's scream echoed in the shattered remains of the house as the werewolf leaped toward him, jaws snapping—then everything went black.

Twins’ Room - Unknown Power

Lucian jolted awake, his body trembling violently as his scream reverberated through the dimly lit attic. His chest heaved, each breath sharp and ragged as though he had been running for miles. Sweat beaded on his brow, cold and slick against his flushed skin, trickling down his face like a slow, creeping reminder of the nightmare that still clung to him. The familiar creak of the old house settling in the stillness of dawn seemed distant, muffled by the pounding of his heart in his ears.

For a long, agonising moment, his wide, wild eyes darted around the attic, seeking reassurance in the rustic details of the room—the sloped wooden ceiling, the worn beams that stretched above, the two simple beds, one on either side. But the comfort of home felt out of reach. His mind was still tangled in the dark tendrils of his dream, the echoes of the howling wolves still ringing in his ears, their yellow, glowing eyes burned into his vision. He blinked, trying to clear them, but they persisted, as if lurking just out of sight, waiting for him to close his eyes again.

"Lucian!" a voice called, cutting through the fog of his panic. A hand, firm yet gentle, gripped his shoulder. Lucian flinched, his breath hitching as his body tensed. But the familiar warmth of his brother's touch pulled him back from the edge.

Leon knelt beside him, his face pale with worry, his dark blond hair tousled and wild from sleep. His wide blue eyes, so much like Lucian’s, were full of concern. The dim morning light from the small dormer window behind them framed his features, casting soft shadows on the floor, but to Lucian, everything felt distant, detached, as though the world was just a shade too dark.

"Another nightmare?" Leon’s voice was soft but resonated with the countless nights he had spent waking to his brother’s cries. His brow furrowed deeply, and the lines of worry etched into his young face made him look far older than his twelve years.

Lucian pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, willing the images to fade, but the memory of the wolves—those beasts, their growls, their snarls, the feel of their hot breath—clung to him like a second skin. His whole body shook as though the fear from his dream had followed him into the waking world.

"They’re getting worse, Leon," Lucian whispered, his voice trembling as much as his body. His hands fell to his lap, revealing eyes still wide with terror. "I can’t stop them... Every night, it feels more real. I’m there. It’s like I’m trapped in the nightmare, and it’s happening all over again."

Leon shifted, sitting beside Lucian on the edge of the bed. The wooden frame creaked under the added weight, and for a moment, the sound grounded them both, reminding them of where they were—safe, in their attic room. But Leon’s expression remained troubled. He ran a hand through his hair, a habit he had when he was thinking hard, struggling to find the right words.

"It’s just dreams, Lucian," Leon said quietly, though his tone lacked the conviction of his words. "Dreams can’t hurt you."

"No..." Lucian shook his head slowly, his gaze fixed on the beams overhead, his eyes distant as if he were still watching the scene unfold. 

"It’s more than that, Leon. I can feel it—the heat of the fire, the ground beneath my feet... even the pain. When I woke up this time..." His voice faltered, and he lowered his gaze, hesitant. He lifted his hand and rested it on his knee, feeling the rawness through the fabric of his nightshirt.

Leon’s brow furrowed further. 

"What is it, Lucian?" he asked, leaning in, his voice barely above a whisper as though he feared the answer.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Lucian peeled back the thin blanket covering his legs, revealing his knees. They were scraped and red, raw as though he had fallen on jagged stones. Leon gasped, his eyes widening in disbelief as he reached out, his fingers hovering over the fresh wounds, too stunned to touch them.

"How...?" Leon stammered, his voice full of confusion. "When did this happen? You’ve been in bed all night!" His gaze snapped back to Lucian’s face, searching for answers that didn’t make sense.

Lucian’s heart raced. He swallowed hard, his throat tight, the confusion and fear overwhelmed him. 

"I didn’t fall... well, at least not here." His voice wavered, barely more than a whisper. "It was in the dream, Leon. I was running in the backyard, trying to get away from the wolves. I stumbled. I fell. And when I woke up... this." He gestured weakly to his freshly scraped knees, his face pale as the realisation solidified in his mind.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The room was deathly silent save for the faint creaking of the house and the distant rustle of the wind outside. Leon’s mouth opened, then closed again, at a loss for words. He looked between Lucian’s face and his knees, trying to make sense of the impossible.

"Lucian..." Leon began, his voice tight with disbelief. "Dreams don’t leave wounds. This... this isn’t right." His hand finally settled gently on Lucian’s arm, grounding him in the moment.

Lucian met his brother’s gaze, his wide eyes shimmering with a mix of fear and desperation. 

"I know," he admitted, his voice breaking. "I don’t understand it either, but it’s happening. It’s not just dreams anymore. Something’s changing. I don’t know what it is, but... it’s getting stronger. Every night, it feels like it’s taking more of me, like... like I’m losing control."

Leon clenched his fists, his jaw tightening as his mind raced. His older brother's instinct kicked in, wanting to protect Lucian from whatever this was, but the helplessness gnawed at him. 

"We can’t let this go on, Lucian. We need to tell someone—Father, maybe. We can’t keep this a secret any longer."

"No!" Lucian’s voice rose suddenly, shaking with fear. "We can’t tell Father. He wouldn’t understand. And Mother..." 

He paused, his voice softening with guilt. 

"She’s already so worried about me. I don’t want to make things worse for her." 

His shoulders drooped, the secret he carried becoming almost unbearable.

Leon sighed deeply, his grip on Lucian’s wrist tightening slightly, as if trying to lend him strength. 

"Alright," he said after a moment, his voice gentler, though still laced with concern. "We won’t tell them. Not yet. We’ll figure something out."

Lucian managed a weak, grateful smile, though the fear still lingered in his eyes. 

"Thank you, Leon," he whispered. "I don’t know what I’d do without you."

The room, bathed in the soft, pale light of early morning, felt calmer now, but beneath the surface, the tension still simmered, like a fire waiting to reignite. Lucian lay back down, his body still trembling slightly as the remnants of the nightmare slowly faded into the background. But deep inside, he knew that the battle was far from over. Whatever power stirred within him, it was growing—stronger, darker, more dangerous—and soon, it would no longer be something he could hide.

Leon sat beside him, his mind clouded with worry as he glanced out the small window. The vast woods stretched out beyond, dark and mysterious, their secrets hidden in the mist. And in the quiet of the attic, both brothers felt crushed by the uncertainty of the unknown, the fragile bond between them the only thing keeping the darkness at bay.

As the morning light grew stronger, pushing back the lingering shadows, the unanswered question lingered, What was happening to Lucian—and what terrifying power was awakening within him?

Brothers in the Attic - Trick of the Light

The first light of dawn began to seep through the small dormer windows of the attic, casting a delicate glow that softened the rough edges of the worn floorboards. The room, nestled under the sloping beams, felt like a secluded haven, removed from the rest of the world—a place where secrets could remain hidden and where the strange happenings of the night might be forgotten. The faint rustle of the trees outside and the gentle creak of the house settling were the only sounds, both brothers cocooned in silence after the unsettling events that had shaken Lucian awake.

Leon shifted on the edge of Lucian’s bed, his body restless with thoughts he could not quiet. His dark blond hair, still tousled from sleep, fell loosely across his forehead, framing his pale face. His eyes, deep blue like his brother’s, flicked toward Lucian, full of curiosity and concern. The resemblance between the twins was undeniable, but there was a softness to Leon’s features that set him apart. Where Lucian’s face often bore the marks of worry and introspection, Leon’s was alive with youthful energy, even now, after the lingering fear of the nightmare.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Lucian, the seventh and youngest child of the Daiwik family, sat hunched on his bed, knees pulled to his chest. His gaze was fixed on the floor, his mind still caught in the nightmare's grip. His slim frame trembled slightly, the white linen of his nightshirt crumpled from his restless sleep. His face, though boyish, bore the expression of someone far beyond his years, and the star-shaped birthmark on his left cheek, shared by all the Daiwik siblings, seemed to gleam faintly in the growing light—a silent reminder of the strange legacy passed down from their father, Thomas. Unlike the other children, Lucian’s mark seemed to burn brighter, a reflection of something deeper, something stirring within.

The moon was faint but still present in the early morning sky. The weak sunlight cast long, fading beams across the floor. The pale light only heightened the sense of isolation in the attic, where the two boys often retreated. It was Leon who finally broke the silence, his voice hesitant, laden with the question that had been pressing on his mind since Lucian had bolted awake.

"Lucian," Leon began slowly, his curiosity piqued yet laced with unease, "do you think... Do you reckon your nightmares are somehow tied to your... tricks?"

The word lingered between them, hovering in the stillness of the moment. Lucian flinched at it. He had never liked referring to his strange abilities as ‘tricks’, though that’s what they had always called them. It made them sound harmless, like small illusions or sleight of hand. But he knew, deep down, that they were far more than that. They first started on their twelfth birthday on first of may this year and he had kept them secret for as long as he could, but Leon had seen too much—he and their sister, Linda, had witnessed moments that Lucian couldn’t explain, things that frightened him even though he tried to brush them off.

"I don’t know..." Lucian whispered, his voice barely audible, still not meeting his brother’s gaze. His eyes remained fixed on the faint light through the window, his mind far away. "Maybe they are..."

Leon leaned forward, his expression serious, studying his twin with an intensity that made Lucian feel vulnerable. 

"Can you tell me... how you do them? The ‘tricks’? How does it work?" Leon’s voice was steady, but there was an underlying urgency, a need to understand what had been hidden in plain sight.

Lucian braced himself, drawing a deep breath before speaking. 

"Sometimes... they just happen," he admitted, his voice trembling slightly. "It’s not like I can control them."

Leon sat up straighter, leaning closer to his brother. Though they were identical, Leon's features were softer, more open. His blue eyes, a mirror of Lucian’s, sparkled with a mixture of fear and excitement. He wasn’t scared of the tricks, not like Lucian was. For Leon, it was something wondrous.

"When do they happen?" Leon asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as though speaking too loudly might disturb the delicate balance between them. "Is it when you’re angry? Or scared?"

Lucian hesitated, his brow furrowing as he tried to find the right words to describe something he barely understood himself. 

"It’s not just when I’m angry," he said slowly, his eyes flicking toward Leon, uncertain. "Sometimes... It's when I’m really nervous. But it happens when I’m happy too."

Leon’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. 

"Happy?" he echoed, the disbelief in his voice evident. "What happens when you’re happy?"

Lucian bit his lip, his gaze dropping to his hands, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his nightshirt. 

"It’s hard to explain," he confessed, his voice small. "It’s like... something inside me just wants to get out. When I feel something too strongly, it just happens. Like... like that time in the garden on our birthday, when all the flowers bloomed at once." 

He glanced at Leon, his face pale, uncertain. 

"I didn’t mean to do it. I just felt so... full of something. And then it happened."

Leon’s eyes widened in amazement. 

"That’s... incredible!" He grinned, his curiosity deepening. "Can you show me something now? One of your tricks?"

Lucian looked at his brother, his face full of uncertainty. 

"Now?"

"Please, Lucian!" Leon pressed, his face lighting up with excitement. "Just a small one. I won’t tell anyone, I swear. You know I won’t."

Lucian sighed, his gaze moving back to the window. The woods outside seemed peaceful now, but they reminded him too much of the nightmare—the wolves, the fire, the howls. But Leon’s eagerness was contagious, and despite himself, Lucian felt a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. His twin’s enthusiasm always had a way of pulling him out of the dark places in his mind.

"Alright," Lucian relented, though his voice carried a note of caution. "But I can’t promise anything... I don’t always control it."

Leon nodded eagerly, his eyes wide with anticipation. 

"That’s fine! Just show me."

Lucian took a deep breath, steadying his racing heart. He glanced around the attic, searching for something simple to demonstrate with. His eyes landed on the small candle resting on a wooden shelf by the wall. 

"Pass me that candle," he instructed, nodding toward it.

Leon scrambled to grab the candle, placing it carefully in Lucian’s hands. Lucian closed his eyes for a moment, focusing. His heartbeat quickened, but he forced himself to calm his breathing, feeling the familiar pull deep inside him, that strange force that he still did not fully understand. Slowly, he opened his eyes, staring intently at the candle’s wick.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a faint wisp of smoke curled from the tip, and, seconds later, a small flame flickered to life.

"Whoa!" Leon exclaimed, his face lighting up with awe and excitement. "That’s just like last time!"

Lucian, nodding to Leon, gave a small, tired smile. 

"Yeah! It’s not much, but it’s something that’s easy for me to do.” Lucian  shrugged, “I mean… it’s still just a flame."

"Can you do more?" Leon asked, his voice still filled with wonder, his eyes gleaming.

Lucian hesitated. 

"Well... there is one other thing," he admitted, glancing at Leon with a warning look. "But you have to promise me, Leon. You can’t tell anyone. Not even Linda."

Leon raised his hand solemnly. 

"I swear! I won’t tell a soul."

Lucian took another deep breath, feeling the familiar exhaustion coming over him even before he began. 

"Alright," he said quietly, "but it takes a lot out of me."

With slow, deliberate movements, Lucian clapped his hands together and then raised them, palms facing the air. For a moment, nothing happened, but then tiny orbs of light began to form, glowing softly like fireflies. They floated upward from his palms, drifting lazily through the air, casting a gentle, ethereal glow around the room.

Leon’s jaw dropped in awe, his eyes wide as he watched the glowing orbs dance around them. 

"What... what are those?" he asked in amazement, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I call them... Lucian’s glowies," Lucian said with a breathless chuckle. His face had gone pale, and the strain of the trick was starting to show. The lights twinkled like stars, filling the attic with a soft, pale magical light. But Lucian’s vision was beginning to blur, the familiar fatigue of exhaustion settled over him, pulling him toward unconsciousness.

Leon’s smile faltered. 

"Lucian? Are you alright?"

"I’m fine," Lucian whispered, shaking his head, his voice weak. "It’s just... it makes me dizzy."

Just as Lucian began to lower his hands, trying to catch his breath, the attic door creaked open, and both boys froze. Standing in the doorway was their oldest brother, Leopold, his tall figure casting a long silhouette across the room. His long dark brown hair, still tousled from sleep, framed his sharp, serious features, and his piercing blue eyes narrowed at the sight of the floating lights.

"What in the world is going on here?" Leopold’s voice cut through the soft glow, his expression a mixture of confusion and suspicion.

Lucian and Leon exchanged a panicked glance, both of them caught completely off guard. Lucian quickly closed his fists, and the lights vanished in an instant, leaving the attic bathed only in the soft, pale light of dawn.

"NOTHING?!" they both said in unison, their voices shaky, hearts racing. Leopold shook his head in confusion, muttering to himself as he turned away. 

"Must’ve been a trick of the light..."

Brothers in the Attic - Brothers United

Leopold stood at the doorway, his tall frame filling the space as the morning light from the small dormer window cast long shadows over the attic’s floorboards. His blue eyes—those piercing Daiwik eyes, inherited from their father—were usually stern, but now, they softened with concern. The star-shaped birthmark on his left cheek, shared by all the Daiwik siblings, caught the pale light, seemed to stand out. Leopold was the eldest of the Daiwik family, twin to Lena, and bore the responsibility of their modest household as future head of the family, a role he took seriously. Too seriously, Lucian often thought.

In his hands, Leopold carried a wicker basket, likely on his way to fetch fresh eggs from the farmyard, but his gaze lingered on Lucian and Leon, his attention drawn to the spot where the bluish glow had faded moments before. He frowned, his brows knitting together, though he said nothing of it.

“You alright, Lucian? You look really pale…” Leopold’s voice was steady, but there was an unmistakable tension behind it. The usual authority in his tone was replaced by a quiet worry that made Lucian’s heart clench. 

“Lewis just told me downstairs that he heard screaming coming from here earlier.”

Lucian sat up straighter, running a hand through his dark blond hair in an effort to hold back the shivers and exhaustion from the tricks he just performed to Leon. His mind raced, searching for a believable answer. What could he possibly say? That his nightmares were becoming more vivid, more real, like premonitions of something dark and uncontrollable? The whole truth felt like a burden, but he wasn’t ready to share it, not even with Leon, who had been his confidant since birth.

“I’m fine,” Lucian muttered, his voice strained as he glanced briefly at Leon. His twin, sitting on the bed next to him, gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod of encouragement, though the worry never left his face.

Leopold’s frown deepened as he stepped further into the attic, closing the door behind him. The soft thud of the latch echoed in the stillness, a quiet but resolute sign that this conversation wasn’t going to be avoided.

“You’ve had another nightmare, haven’t you?” Leopold’s gaze sharpened as he observed Lucian’s reaction, his eldest-brother instincts taking over. “You’re still looking shaken, come, just tell me what’s going on.”

Lucian’s stomach dropped. The mere thought of explaining what he had been experiencing—of the wolves, the fire, the impossibility of it all—sent a wave of dread washing over him. He turned to look at Leon, hoping for some escape, but his brother avoided his gaze, clearly feeling guilty for having shared more than Lucian was ready to reveal.

“Sorry…” Leon mumbled, his shoulders hunched as if to shield himself from Lucian’s scrutinising stare.

Leopold’s eyes remained fixed on Lucian. 

“Leon told me weeks ago,” he continued, his tone steady but softening with a hint of sympathy. “I’ve been keeping an eye on you since.”

The admission struck Lucian like a blow. Weeks? How long had Leon been confiding in Leopold? His chest tightened with a sense of betrayal, but it was quickly overshadowed by the realisation that they were all worried about him. Leopold’s expression softened, and he shot a glance at Leon, who was staring down at the floor. 

“Don’t blame him,” Leopold added gently. “He’s just worried about you.”

Lucian shifted uncomfortably, feeling his eldest brother's concern, impossible to ignore. He was not ready to share the full truth—not with Leopold, not with anyone. How could he explain something he barely understood himself? 

“It’s just dreams,” Lucian whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. “I don’t know why it keeps happening.”

Leopold sat down on the edge of the bed, his brow furrowing deeper. 

“Lucian, dreams don’t make you scream like that.” His voice carried a quiet firmness, the same tone he used when discussing serious matters, and it sent a shiver of unease down Lucian’s spine. “You’ve always been... different.”

The implication in Leopold’s words lingered, filling the room with an undeniable tension. It was a thought that Lucian had tried to suppress for years, but his oldest brother’s observation only confirmed what Lucian had feared. He was different, and not in the way any of them understood.

Leon, who had been silent until now, finally spoke up, his voice cautious but filled with an underlying conviction. 

“Maybe they’re not just dreams.” His words were soft. “You’ve done things—things no one else can.”

Lucian shot Leon a sharp look, his heart quickening in panic. 

“What do you mean?”

Leon hesitated, glancing nervously between Lucian and Leopold, knowing he was treading dangerous ground. 

“You know what I mean, Lucian,” he said carefully. “The tricks you do... You know… and the thing with lights.”

Leopold’s eyebrows shot up, his attention now fully on Leon. 

“Tricks? Lights?” he asked, his voice edged with confusion. It was clear that the mention of such things had caught him off guard.

Leon quickly backtracked, realising he might have said too much. 

“I… Well I, I just mean... Lucian’s good at some stuff, like making things look different when we play. That’s all.”

But Lucian’s fists clenched at his sides, his frustration bubbling beneath the surface. 

“It’s not much,” he muttered, his tone harsher than he intended. “I get lucky sometimes... and I’m good at some… well, tricks… you know? Nothing much really.”

Leopold’s gaze moved between the two of them, the wheels turning in his mind as he tried to piece together the fragments of information. His sharp eyes studied Lucian, not with suspicion but with the careful, guarded concern of an older brother who had always taken on more than his share of responsibility. He let out a deep worry sigh.

“Ok… Alright, whatever it is, Lucian,” Leopold began, his voice softening with warmth, “you don’t have to hide it from me or the others. We’re your brothers. We’re just trying to help, alright?”

Lucian felt a lump rise in his throat at Leopold’s words. For so long, he had relied on Leon—his closest friend, his confidant—but Leopold had always been more distant, focused on the family business, on becoming the responsible head of the Daiwik household. Yet, here he was, offering his support in the face of something none of them truly understood. A warmth spread through Lucian’s chest, even as the lingering unease from the nightmares hovered at the edges of his mind.

“Yeah… sure…,” Lucian whispered, his voice barely audible. “Thanks”

Leopold stood up, placing a firm hand on Lucian’s shoulder. His grip was steady, reassuring, like the solid presence he had always been in their lives. 

“Think nothing of it, Lucian. Now,” he said with a small smile, “you lads need to get washed up. Lena and I are making breakfast this morning, Mother is still demanding us to help after Martha’s dismissal and, for heaven's sake, tend to those wounds, Lucian. They appear most dreadful!”

Lucian shot him an annoyed look, but there was a playful glint in his eyes that he couldn’t suppress. Leopold chuckled, ruffling Lucian’s hair before turning to leave. As he walked toward the door, his eyes flickered briefly down to where the bluish glow had disappeared earlier. For a moment, his expression tightened, a flicker of something unreadable passing across his face, but he said nothing. He simply nodded to himself and exited the room, leaving the door slightly ajar.

Once the door clicked shut, Lucian and Leon exchanged a glance. Leon raised his eyebrows, a mischievous grin creeping onto his face. Lucian couldn’t help but smile back, Leon’s small slip, forgotten, their bond as strong as ever, even in the face of the unknown. They both started to laugh, the sound filling the small attic, chasing away the final traces of unease that had clung to the room.

As their laughter echoed in the room, Lucian felt a small spark of hope ignite within him. Maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t have to face this alone after all.

But even as the moment of relief washed over him, the questions remained, unanswered and looming. What were the ‘tricks’, really? And how long before they spiralled beyond his control?