Chapter 1

Aster's phone buzzed in his hand, the screen lighting up with the familiar dread. A notification from his bank. He’d been counting on the deposit—*needed* it—more than he wanted to admit. With a shaky breath, he unlocked the screen.

The account balance blinked back at him, flat, empty.

Bounced. Payment not processed.

His stomach dropped, the sensation all too familiar. But today? Today, it felt like something had cracked in him. There had been something of hopefulness in the back of his mind, a shred of light that perhaps this time, things would be different. But as the digital message burned into his vision, that hope shriveled and died, crushed under the weight of a curse that had followed him since birth.

He stood motionless on the sidewalk, watching the stream of people pass him by, their lives continuing as if his world hadn’t just shifted into oblivion again. It was a strange thing, how the world could keep moving even when your own life had come to a screeching halt.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath.

It was a steady walk to the bank, the sound of his shoes on the pavement the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. The streets felt like they were mocking him—every step a reminder of the endless cycle of misfortune he couldn’t escape.

At the bank, he stood in line, watching the other customers come and go, all of them moving like there was something important in their lives. Something he would never have. Each of them had purpose, a goal, a direction. They didn't have to worry about a paycheck evaporating before they could even touch it. They didn’t know what it felt like to have everything slip through their fingers with a single phone notification.

When it was his turn, the teller barely looked at him, too absorbed in her own quiet misery to acknowledge the man who was already a ghost in this transaction.

"How can I help you today?" she asked, voice flat, distracted.

Aster set the phone on the counter, tapping the screen so she could see the notification. "I got paid today," he said, forcing the words out. "But the payment bounced."

She glanced down at the phone, nodding like it was a routine matter. “Let me take a look.” Her fingers moved across the keyboard as if she had memorized the motions, every movement deliberate, as though it could somehow take less time if she ignored the human being standing in front of her. After a moment, she glanced back up, her eyes cool and professional. "It seems there was an issue on the company’s end. You'll need to contact them directly."

Of course, they’d say that, Aster thought bitterly. It was always someone else’s fault, never theirs. He didn’t even bother to ask any more questions. It wouldn’t change anything. They couldn’t help him.

“Thank you,” he muttered, turning to leave.

Out in the streets again, the day had grown darker, the sky thickening with clouds that threatened rain. It had been like this for the last few days, a constant overcast that seemed to match the weight of his mind. Aster walked back to his boss's office with a sinking feeling, the shadows of the city pulling at him from all sides. He didn’t know why he bothered to hope that maybe today would be different. He should have known better.

He reached the building, a rundown office complex that had seen better days—like him, it was barely holding on. The neon "OPEN" sign buzzed weakly as he approached the door, the flickering light making his pulse race. When he tried the handle, it didn’t budge.

Aster knocked on the door, hoping for something—a sign, a miracle, a human being behind the glass who could help him. He knocked harder, but no answer came.

Frustrated, he stepped back, scanning the parking lot for his boss’s car. His boss had been a flake—always late, always putting things off, promising the world and delivering nothing. But Aster had been desperate enough to believe him when he offered him a job. That had been months ago. Months of hard work, late nights and constant excuses, all for this: nothing. And now?

The office was empty.

He turned to leave but stopped when he noticed a group of his coworkers standing near the back entrance, talking in low voices. Aster hesitated, unsure if he wanted to hear what they were saying. But curiosity won out.

“Hey,” one of them, a woman named Miriam, looked at him with a tight smile. “Did you get your check?”

He nodded slowly. “It bounced.”

Aster had been expecting sympathy, or at the very least, the vague acknowledgment of mutual suffering. Instead, Miriam gave a sharp laugh that seemed too bitter to be real.

"Yeah, it bounced for me too," she said, shaking her head. "No surprise though. You hear the news?"

Aster frowned. “What news?”

“Boss skipped town. Took all the money. Everyone’s checks are gone. We’ve all been *had*."

The words hit him like a punch to the stomach. It was bad enough to be out of a job. But to find out that the man who had offered him work had stolen from everyone—including him—was almost too much to process. It was the final kick in the gut.

Aster’s hands clenched at his sides. “That’s—unbelievable.”

“No kidding.” Miriam's eyes were full of something between anger and disbelief. “What’s he going to do with all of it? Flee the country and live with the Guptas?" she laughs harshly.

The weight of the world pressed down on Aster at her words, heavier than the rain that had started to lightly fall outside. He didn’t even care about the rain anymore. It was just one more thing.

Without saying another word, Aster turned and left. He had no plans now. No leads, no money. No future.

But he couldn’t help the sting of it all—the feeling that no matter how hard he tried, no matter what he did, everything was slipping through his fingers. That feeling had been with him for as long as he could remember, like an old friend, one who never left and only made things worse.

Aster shoved his hands deep into his pockets as he walked, eyes scanning the sidewalks as though he might find something—anything—that would pull him out of the quicksand he was sinking into.

In his peripheral vision, something flickered—just a brief shadow, but it was enough to make Aster’s heart race. He looked to the side, as he the mist started rolling in, thick and swirling in it’s unnatural hues. Aster’s pulse quickened. No. Not now. Not when he was so close to losing his grip on his sanity.

But the world around him kept shifting.

The mist crept in, thickening, taking shape. The edges of his vision distorted, as though reality itself were warping. His chest tightened. It’s happening again. He couldn’t stop it. He knew what was coming, even if he didn’t want to acknowledge it.

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Then, suddenly, the figure appeared.

The robed man—cloaked in darkness, his face obscured except for those burning cyan eyes—materialized directly in front of him, startled, he jumps back, falling out of the way, as in the split second that follows, a minibus taxi roared past him, tires screeching as it narrowly missed where he had just been standing.

Aster hit the ground hard, his body crashing against the wet pavement. His heart hammered in his chest, and for a moment, he lay there, breathless, eyes wide with shock.

The angry curses of the taxi driver broke Aster’s confusion . "Uhlanya! Hlupheki!" The driver curses him in Xhosa, followed by a honk and a screech of tires as he sped off. Aster slowly pushed himself to his feet, his hands trembling. The mist was gone. The figure was gone. The rain started to fall heavily, the cold droplets mixing with the shock still settling in his bones.

The streetlights flickered on as day moves over to night, casting long shadows over the empty street. Aster stood there for a moment longer, trying to catch his breath, feeling the weight of the confusion settle heavily over him.

The vision was gone. But was it really just a hallucination? Or had something else just stepped in to save him?

_________________________________________________________________________________

The rain had turned into a downpour by the time Aster reached his apartment. The sound of water splashing against the pavement was deafening, as if the storm itself was mocking him. His clothes clung to him, soaked through. But it wasn’t the rain that weighed on him; it was the feeling that something had snapped inside of him. He had no job, no money, no way out of the mess his life had become, plus it seemed he was slowly starting to lose his grip on sanity. Each step felt like it took him deeper into a pit, one that he wasn’t sure he could climb out of anymore.

As he rounded the corner to his building, he saw it before he even reached the door.

The rain didn’t let up. It came down in sheets, drenching Aster to the bone, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. He stood there, staring at the pile of his belongings dumped haphazardly onto the sidewalk, His belongings, now thoroughly soaked through, was a perfect reflection of his life—ruined, forgotten, unwanted. His heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice, and no matter how many times he tried to pull air into his lungs, it felt like he couldn’t get enough.

He’d known it was coming. The eviction notice had been there for weeks, a looming threat he could do nothing about. The rent had piled up, unpaid, month after month. His landlady had given him the cold shoulder every time he tried to explain, every time he begged for more time. And now, it had come to this. Aster’s eyes moved over the mess—the clothes that were soaked through, the torn cardboard box with his few remaining belongings—and all he could do was stand there, numb.

He didn’t care that his feet were freezing, that the cold was seeping into his bones. He didn’t care that his stomach was gnawing at him, that his last hope—whatever little there was—had just evaporated.

What was the point?

He stared at the ground, unable to look anywhere else. The lights from the streetlamps cast long, grim shadows, blurring in the downpour. It all felt surreal, like he wasn’t even in his own body anymore. He wasn’t even sure if he was still alive or if he had already drifted somewhere beyond the edge of the world.

This wasn’t living anymore. It hadn’t been for a long time.

‘How did I end up here?’

He ran his fingers through his wet hair, the cold water mixing with the sweat on his forehead. There was no one to blame but himself, right? He’d been given chances—so many chances—and he always fucked them up. Always.

Maybe it had started when his parents died. That was the first crack in his life. His family had been wealthy, successful, admired by the community. They had everything—everything, that is, until they suddenly didn’t, then the accident. It was supposed to be quick—clean. But it wasn’t. They were gone in an instant, leaving behind a life that Aster hadn’t been prepared to live without.

Then came the adoption. He was too young to understand it at first—too small to realize that his new mother had only adopted him for the money. The state grant that came with him was worth more than any love or care she could’ve offered. She locked him in a world of secrecy, cutting him off from everything he might have had a chance at: a future, an education, a life of his own.

Instead, he had been forced into a life he didn’t want, one that existed in the murky shadows of crime and desperation. His foster mother, a woman who claimed she cared for him, had dragged him into the dark underbelly of society. Drugs, scams, extortion—it was all part of the package. She used him, and he let her. Because what else was he supposed to do?

He never had a choice.

Aster shut his eyes tightly, as if he could block out the memories that were rushing back. The shadows of that life still clung to him, no matter how much he wanted to forget them. Every time he’d tried to get out, it felt like his bad luck followed him, dragging him back into the mess.

Now here he was—on the street, standing in the rain, with nowhere to go. His foster mother had died on his eighteenth birthday, the result of a drug deal gone wrong. Aster had tried to pick up the pieces, to make something of himself, but it seemed like everything he touched turned to shit. Every job he managed to get fell apart, every paycheck bounced, every promise broken.

And now—*this*. His possessions, dumped on the sidewalk. His life, scattered like refuse.

Aster’s fingers twitched at his sides, but he didn’t reach for anything. He didn’t want to. There was nothing left to reach for. No last-ditch effort. No spark of life left in him. He had burned through every ounce of hope years ago, and now, there was nothing but the heavy, suffocating darkness of it all.

His mind was numb, like a distant echo of who he used to be. But the real Aster? The person who might’ve cared, who might’ve dreamed of better days? He was gone. That person had died along with his parents, back when life had collapsed around him.

When had he stopped fighting? When had he given up?

He couldn't remember anymore. All he could feel was the weight of the years, pressing down on him, grinding his spirit into dust. Aster’s chest tightened, his body trembling from the cold, but it wasn’t the rain that made him shake. It was the knowledge that nothing was ever going to change.

He wasn’t meant to survive. It wasn’t just bad luck—it was him. Something in him had broken a long time ago, and now there was nothing left but the remnants of what had been. No future. No purpose. No reason to keep going.

What had he been hoping for all these years? A job? A home? Friends? Love? He couldn’t even remember what any of that felt like anymore. All that was left was the hunger, the exhaustion, and the endless cycle of disappointment. It had never been enough.

Aster couldn’t hold back the bitterness that bubbled up in his chest. He laughed, though it didn’t sound anything like humor. It was a hollow, bitter sound that came from deep within him.

Aster let out a shaky breath, closing his eyes against the torrent of rain. He could hear the distant sound of traffic, the rhythm of the world continuing on without him. People going about their lives. Families eating dinner, kids playing in the park, couples laughing together. He could almost see it in his mind—those people, so full of life, of purpose. They weren’t burdened by what he was. They didn’t carry the weight of a life broken from the inside out.

And it was in that moment—standing in the middle of the street, drenched, empty—that Aster realized he didn’t even know if he wanted to be one of them anymore. He didn’t know if he wanted anything at all.

For a while, he didn’t move. He couldn’t. He wasn’t sure if it was the exhaustion from the past few days, the months, the years, or if something in him had just finally shattered completely. He wasn’t even sure how long he had been standing there—minutes? Hours? It didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered.

Aster reached down, his fingers grazing the wet pavement as though he were grounding himself, feeling something solid beneath him. But it didn’t help. Nothing helped.

The people who had walked past him earlier hadn’t noticed him. No one ever did. He was just another face in the crowd, another lost soul on the streets. But that had always been his life. Always. People passed by him like he was nothing, and the world never stopped to give him a second glance.

Maybe, just maybe, that’s all he was—nothing.

He was just… nothing.

Aster’s legs gave out, and he sank to the curb. His body shuddered as the cold soaked deeper into his skin. But it wasn’t the cold that made him feel hollow. It was the emptiness inside him, the complete and utter absence of anything to live for. He was used to the pain, the hunger, the exhaustion. He had become numb to all of it. But this… this was different. This was surrender.

There was no fight left in him.

No future to look to.

Nothing to hold on to.

His eyes fluttered shut, and the rain pelted down on him like it was trying to wash away the last remnants of a life that had already been forgotten.

Aster didn’t know how much longer he sat there, but when he opened his eyes again, the world hadn’t changed. It was still raining. It was still cold. The lights from the streetlamps still flickered, and the city around him still buzzed with the same mechanical rhythm it always had.

But inside him, everything was still.

And that was enough. Because at that moment, he realized he didn’t care about anything anymore.

The rain kept coming. It didn’t care. The world didn’t care. And Aster didn’t care.

And so, he stayed there, broken and empty, no longer searching for a way out, because there was no way left to escape.