THE ARCANE: Birth of Revenge

Chapter 3

"Shhhh. Keep your voice down.” The voice came fast and low, pressed directly against Kael’s ear, followed immediately by a hand clamped tightly over his mouth. The grip was firm enough to silence him, but careful enough not to hurt. Kael’s scream died in his throat, smothered by panic and fear. His body jerked violently in reflex, legs kicking, fingers clawing at the hand over his mouth as terror surged through him.

Beside them, pressed into the shadows, Whitney crouched low, her back against the cold brick wall. Her breath came shallow and quick, her eyes fixed on the street ahead. She didn’t dare move or speak. The only thing she could hear was Kael’s muffled breathing and the sound of boots approaching fast.

Kael’s heart pounded so violently it felt like it might tear its way out of his chest. Every instinct screamed at him to fight, to run, to escape, but the man holding him—Robert, tightened his grip just enough to keep him still. Kael had no other option. His body trembled as he went rigid, forcing himself into silence even as fear burned through him.

The security men rounded the corner moments later. Their boots struck the way in heavy, measured steps as they fanned out, weapons hanging ready at their sides. They moved slowly now, deliberately, eyes sweeping the alley, the intersection, every dark corner and hidden recess. The air felt tight and suffocating, as if the city itself was holding its breath too.

Kael’s eyes widened as one of the men stepped closer—too close. He could see the man’s gloved hand flex near his belt, could hear the faint jingle of equipment as he turned his head, scanning. Kael’s chest tightened painfully. He hadn’t breathed. His lungs burned, begging for air, but fear held him frozen.

Whitney pressed her hand over her mouth to stop herself from gasping.

The security man took another step forward. Then another. Kael felt the stranger’s chest rise and fall behind him, steady but tense. The hand over his mouth never loosened. Robert didn’t blink, even for a second.

Seconds stretched unbearably long. Finally, a voice cut through the silence. “Come on, let’s go back. He’s not here…”

The words landed like a c***k of thunder in Kael’s ears.

The other security man scoffed. “That freak...”

Their footsteps shifted direction. Slowly and reluctantly, the sound of boots faded as the men retreated down the street, their voices dissolving into the noise of the city until there was nothing left but distant traffic and the faint hum of streetlights. Only then did Robert loosen his grip.

The hand lifted from Kael’s mouth, and Kael sucked in air so sharply it hurt, his chest heaving as if he’d been holding his breath for an hour. He bent forward, gasping uncontrollably, his entire body shaking as oxygen rushed back into his lungs. His hands clutched at his shirt as he tried to steady himself, breaths coming fast and uneven.

Whitney stepped closer now, her voice trembling. “Are you okay?”

Kael didn’t answer. He couldn’t. The world still felt dangerous and unreal, like it might collapse at any second. His eyes darted around wildly, searching for movement, for shadows that might suddenly come alive.

Robert took a step forward, giving him space. “Easy, kid,” he said quietly. “You’re alright now.”

Kael’s breathing slowly began to slow, but the fear didn’t leave him. His shoulders remained tense, his small frame coiled as if ready to bolt.

“Come on...” Whitney said gently, rising to her feet. “Let’s go home. It’s dangerous out here, especially for someone your age walking about all alone.”

Kael didn’t respond. But when they started walking, he followed gently.

****

Whitney and Robert’s house felt strangely still when they entered, the quiet pressing in on Kael the moment the door closed behind them. The sound of the lock clicking made him flinch. He stood just inside the doorway, his shoulders hunched, eyes glued to the floor as if he didn’t trust it to stay solid beneath his feet.

“Come on. Sit,” Whitney said softly, gesturing toward the dining table. Kael hesitated, then slowly approached, climbing onto the chair. His legs dangled, unable to reach the floor. He folded his hands tightly in his lap, fingers trembling.

Whitney disappeared into the kitchen. Kael listened as pots clinked and a burner hissed to life.

The smell came next—warm, rich, unfamiliar. His stomach twisted painfully, hunger suddenly roaring to life now that the danger had passed. She returned carrying a plate, steam rising from it in thick curls.

“Here, eat up. You must be hungry,” she said, setting it gently in front of him.

The plate held hot spaghetti and chicken, the sauce glossy and red, the food still steaming.

Kael stared at it. He looked up at Robert. Then at Whitney. Then back at the plate.

His fingers tightened against the edge of the table. Suspicion warred with hunger inside him.

“It’s okay,” Robert said after a moment. “It’s not poison… not like we’d kill you or something.”

Kael slowly dragged the plate closer. His hand wrapped awkwardly around the fork, knuckles white. He lifted it slightly, then paused.

“W… what is this?” he asked slowly, his voice thin and uncertain.

Whitney blinked in surprise. “Oh s**t, you talk?” The words slipped out before she could stop them. She winced immediately. “I... I’m sorry about that. I mean… you talk?”

“Yes,” Kael said plainly.

Whitney nodded, recovering. “Right. Well, that’s hot spaghetti and chicken.”

Robert didn’t say a word. He just stared at Kael, disbelief written all over his face.

“Hot… spaghetti,” Kael repeated slowly.

“Yes, spaghetti,” Whitney said. “Now eat. You need your strength.”

Kael slowly took a bite. Then another. The warmth spread through him instantly, filling the emptiness that had gnawed at him for hours. His shoulders sagged slightly as he began eating faster, hunger overpowering caution. He shoveled food into his mouth clumsily, sauce smearing his lips, chewing quickly like he was afraid it might disappear if he stopped.

Whitney and Robert exchanged a look and quietly stepped toward the kitchen, keeping their voices low.

“What now?” Whitney asked. “Do we take him in?”

Robert shook his head. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Why?” she whispered. “He clearly looks homeless. And harmless...”

“But we still don’t know his history," Robert replied. “We might get blamed for kidnapping.”

“k********g?” Whitney snapped softly. “We saved him, Robert. The f**k you mean k********g?”

“This is America, Whitney,” he said firmly. “Come on now.”

She sighed. “So what do we do?"

Robert thought for a second. "Let’s ask him about his identity. Parents. Or anything at all. A relative?.”

Whitney nodded. “Right. That’s a good idea.”

They turned back toward the table. And BOOM!.

The chair was empty. The plate was clean, wiped spotless. The glass of water sat untouched, a faint fingerprint smudged along its side. Kael was gone. The boy had vanished as quietly as he had appeared.

Whitney’s breath caught sharply. “Robert…”