“Run Josh! Run you smart kid!”

“But-but how about you?” Josh asks.

“I can take care of myself…and about him…” his teacher answers ,hand holding tight on his dagger

“I can’t make sure if I can protect you against him.”

The realm-arts roars , mist emerges around the once known teacher of Josh. Josh has no choice other than to run deep into the damned mist. Run as fast as he can. Run as if he is racing to the moon.

White fog takes up his vision. His breath merges with the fog the moment it flees from his mouth. As if they were the same thing from the dawn of time. Josh couldn’t even see his own hands if he stretched them forward. The road to the front is barely visible , everything is white as a canvas.

His arms are freezing as if it isn’t the spring day of Euth.

The mist isn’t as quiet as he thought. Footsteps , keyboard played melody and the barely noticeable , ghost-like whisper scratches his ears. Making Josh unsure of his own sane. His homeland is way stranger than he was taught.

His ears are sharp on the footsteps that are sometimes closer , sometimes further like a satellite with a strange orbit.

And after running that felt like hours. His footsteps stop. Something red is in the mist , a smell that doesn’t belong on this street slithers up to Josh’s nose. The rusty smell spreads in his memory , reminding himself of the unwanted victory. His already numb feet felt something freezing cold. It cuts on the bruise filled skin as if it is a stylus writing on a wax tablet.

As the unnamed , mountain trembling footstep flows through the mist , Josh grabs what's under his foot. The once familiar leather handle and the blood-dried handguard fits into his hand , like a king back with his crown or a erudite back with their knowledge.

The edge of it shows the drops of the waters that don't match any fluid in rivers and oceans. The drops slowly fall down , reflecting Josh’s face and the burning light in his eyes.

The steps are crushing closer like a falling mountain. The figures are showing as the keyboard melody drops down , the notes of it warps. The blurry figure’s silhouette began to sharpen. Josh could tell the cloth it is wearing , the shape of their face.

And the sword on its hand.

It walks towards Josh , every step heavy as if it can trigger an earthquake.

And the moment Josh saw the figure’s eyes , his realm-arts burned.

Realm-arts: Lullabye of silence.

Ten minutes , Josh counts to himself as the voice of the unspeakable taps on his ears.

This time Josh sees the man’s face. It is the person he sees every morning , every before bed time , every reflection of the swimming pool.

“You…are…”

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

“You.” the man answers.

The droplets on Josh’s blade fall off as if it is a miniature rain. Then the realm-arts’ words come into Josh’s ears.The syllables of it sticks like melting butter under the sunlight. As if the ghosts are speaking.

Josh dodges the ‘Josh’’ sword , then he slams the sword onto the opponent’s spine. Out of nowhere , his sword trembles.

Bam! Josh couldn’t feel his hand from the strong shock , his sword almost slipped away from his hand , tearing his newly healed wound. What is he made of? Josh thinks to himself.

The whisper scratches his ears again , this time telling him something unnecessary. Something that Josh can’t see with his eyes right now , something barely can be understood. That must be the side effect , he thought.

Another sword flashes by. Reflection showing him and…him. Same sword , same clothes , same…him.

“...Only one of us can go , you know that , right?”

“You bargained with him, and this is how you pay.” the new ‘Josh’ says. He is as tall as Josh , but feels like twice as taller as he is.

The words struck Josh like a wardrum. And before the drumstick rises , the ‘Joshes ’ sword falls down. The double reflection of death makes a tiny infinitely repeating mirror tunnel , showing the uncountable Josh’s eyes. Right as the swords reach to him ,he blocks one sword and with his wounded right arm , he slams it on ‘Josh's’ face like a whip.

Five minutes till my future-hearing ends , Josh thinks to himself.

So the whisper of the unnamed nights lingers.

Josh pushes his realm-arts to its limit , ignoring the pain in his right arm. He follows the words of that voice. That voice of a thousand stars.

He twists the bladepoint of the other so-called ‘Josh’ , pushing his sword tip close to his eyes. As Josh gains the upper hand , the other one stabs him from the back.

He managed to avoid it for a few centimeters. But suddenly , the sword slashes Josh’s waist open , piercing his white clothes in half , painting it with blood that spreads to all directions.

Knowing the fight has to end quickly , he bears the bleed and kicks the second ‘Josh’ in his knees. Josh then bursts his strength onto the ‘Josh’s’ sword tip, turning it over and strikes into his face.

The realm-arts' words are almost melting his brain , as if they are slithering out of his mouth. It scorches his mind. He cursed to himself. Josh can’t see the effect and side effects anymore , the future it tells is too far , so far that silver hair is hanging on his almost-broken blue mask.

Then , something goes through.

Josh felt like his entire body was filled with gray clouds.

That is pushed away by the spring wind and pierced through by the Auderheimian aircrafts. Rain that is red showers down from the rain cloud named Josh. The cloud pierced open , falling down from the sky with the red rain. Then , it goes away with the whisper of stars.

Like a statue , Josh crushes down to the asphalt as the scarlet piece of blade extracts from his back.

He looks at the red reflection of himself. The realm-arts effects still tells him something that he wasn’t supposed to know.

And so the stars start to speak.

Thirty seconds…

…

……….

………….

Josh pulls up his clothes , looking for any red-ish cuts. He almost loses a beat of his heart when he slides his finger through his waist. The scars are like fused into his body , he could touch them , scratch them or even try to make it bigger. But the pain is no more.

He looks around , the place looks somewhat from his memory. Josh walks through the uncountable rows of chairs , towards the towering , giant organ.

The dark blue dome shaped ceiling that is hung full of stars. Usually they are connected to cables and shine when it is time for praying. Through the hanging silver , he sees the edges of that timeless bell. A bell that woke him up.

As he stops under the giant copper structure , Josh notices somebody. A woman about twice his age. She is in a deep blue , messenger coat. With dark long hair touching her bags around her belt.

Josh immediately recognized her when she turned around-

The Letter-Writer.