Dragon of a Broken World

Chapter 3

I trudged down the stairs, each step heavy and reluctant, as if the weight of the impossible pressed me into the floor. My face was set in brittle calm, a porcelain mask that threatened to c***k at any second. I forced myself to look composed, to pretend as though nothing had happened upstairs, as though I had not just witnessed the impossible.

Inside, a storm raged. Thoughts screamed, questions tangled and collided, but I shoved them all down. I could not afford to unravel now. I had to hold it together.

The living room stretched before me, wide and suffocating in its elegance. Every eye turned the moment I appeared.

My family stood rigid, joined by the Wilsons, Edgar and his parents. Their expressions were unreadable, brittle smiles plastered over thinly veiled judgment. The air between us buzzed with expectation and quiet condemnation.

"You kept our guests waiting, dear," my father said coldly. His voice was sharp, each word a reprimand that cut through my fragile façade.

I met his eyes with exhaustion that went bone-deep. I had no words, no excuses. My mind was still reeling from what I had seen upstairs.

Then, across the room, I saw her. Camelia. My best friend. Her face shone like a beacon in that cold, calculating atmosphere. Relief surged through me, my chest loosening.

For the first time that night, a genuine smile broke through my carefully constructed mask. Without hesitation, I rushed toward her, arms open, craving the comfort and normalcy only she could give.

"Camelia! I’ve missed you," I cried, my voice raw with relief. My arms reached for the hug I desperately needed.

But before I could reach her, a voice cut through the air.

"Don’t touch her."

It was like a shard of glass, grating and jagged. I froze, arms suspended. Slowly, I turned toward the source of the voice. It was Martin Louis.

Fear and shock rippled through me. My heart raced, confusion clouded my mind. Martin was no ordinary guy. He was the son of Mr. Kai Louis, an infamous mafia boss, a drug lord who ruled half the city’s streets.

At school, Martin was a feared menace, the kind of bully no one dared challenge. Even the teachers shrank back in his presence. His shadow stretched long, just like his father’s. His squad of delinquents carried out his orders without question. They peddled hard drugs through the hallways, pushing them onto others under Martin’s command.

For the longest time, I kept my distance. We attended the same school, but our paths never crossed until the day he cornered Camelia and me, demanding that we become his new drug vendors, his latest puppets, just like nearly every other student he had broken into submission. We refused. That was when it all began. From that moment on, we became his prime targets.

Peace became a stranger to us. His boys stalked us, taunted us, shoved us in the halls, making sure we never felt safe for even a second. Weeks passed, but we held our ground and refused to bend.

Finally, we had enough. One day, we decided to slip into his hideout, the place where all his shady deals went down. We gathered evidence, snapping photos in secret, and I reported everything to the police. For a brief, shining moment, it felt like we had won. Martin was suspended and sent to juvenile detention.

But his father’s influence was everywhere, reaching into places we could not see. Within two days, Martin was released on bail. From then on, he swore vengeance, branding us as enemies for life.

When he returned to school, the bullying did not resume in the same way. Instead, it shifted, calmer, quieter, but far more dangerous. He and his boys no longer shoved or taunted us openly, but they watched, always watching, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

And now, there he is, standing in my living room.

"Martin, what… what are you doing here?" My voice trembled.

He smirked, eyes cold, narrowed into menacing slits.

"Oh, she didn’t tell you?" He tilted his head with arrogant satisfaction. "I’m Camelia’s boyfriend now."

My mouth fell open.

"I beg your pardon?" I said, irritation rising. I turned to Camelia, feeling a stab of betrayal twist in my chest. "Camelia… what is this?"

She looked terrified. Her eyes were wide, glimmering with that familiar fear. Her body was tense; she flinched. Her gaze darted from Martin to me like a silent plea.

She reached for my hand and gripped it with trembling fingers. Her lips parted in a soft, desperate whisper.

"I miss you too Elizabeth."

Her voice cracked something inside me.

"What is this?" I spat, voice low and dangerous. A surge of protective fury ran through me. "Can’t I hug my best friend in peace now?"

Martin’s eyes didn’t blink.

"Not under my watch," he said flatly. His words crashed into the room like thunder.

My breath caught.

"What did you just say?" I whispered.

Silence thickened. Everyone shifted, eyes darting, including Edgar.

I turned to Martin, my tone softening but my words firm.

"Under what? Is she a pet to you? Like a possession? I don’t know how all this is happening, but Camelia is my best friend. I would do anything for her. Nothing, not even you, can come between us," I retorted sharply.

The fear on Camelia’s face was unbearable. I barely recognized my friend.

Martin’s anger deepened. His face darkened, eyes narrowing further.

"Why don’t we all calm down?" my father suggested, trying to cut through the tension, but no one was paying attention.

"The truth is, I’m the only one she needs in her life right now," Martin said coldly.

I glared at him, heat and fury coursing through me, remembering everything he had done to us. My hands tightened into fists, voice trembling with barely contained rage.

"No truth has ever come from you. You want to talk about truth now? The only truth here is that this is not normal. You have something against her, and I will prove it."

Gasps spread around the room. My declaration hung there, sharp and undeniable.

"Elizabeth, stop! Enough of your nonsense!" my mother yelled, trying to cut through the moment as if nothing were happening. "Please, everyone, let’s have a seat at the table."

But Martin dominated the space, leaving no one able to move.

"I’m not done here, Mrs. Herithgon," he said, his tone not a request but a command.

My mother froze. No one dared to act, not even when Edgar tried to step forward; his father held him back.

Martin clenched his fists, knuckles white.

"Did you just threaten me, Elizabeth?" he hissed through gritted teeth. "I’d love to watch you try."

Fear prickled along my skin, the hatred in his stare like fire.

Then Camelia spoke, her voice trembling as she tried to defend me.

"Martin, please stop! Elizabeth didn’t mean to say anything that would upset you, so please leave her alone."

He smirked.

"Or what are you going to do about it, Camelia?"

Her courage evaporated. The reminder of invisible chains sank into her shoulders.

"What have you done to her, Martin?" I demanded, fury coursing through me.

"Elizabeth, calm down," Camelia begged, trying to soothe me. Her fear was plain.

Martin’s face twisted. Suddenly, he grabbed my hands, his fingers digging painfully into my skin. His hold was crushing, a silent warning. His eyes locked onto mine, burning.

"You caused this," he snarled. "And you are going to pay."

"Or what?" I shot back, voice steady despite the tremor inside me. "You know I’ll never let you hurt Camelia again. Not ever."

His rage flared. In a shocking instant, he raised his hand to strike me, right there, in front of everyone.

No one moved to stop him, not my father, whose face was a mask of cold calculation; not my sister, who averted her eyes; nor my mother. Not even the Wilsons.

Each and every one of them just stood there and watched. Loneliness in that moment was a physical thing.

But suddenly, as his hand began to fall, the lights flickered. Once. Twice. A third time.

The air changed. It hummed, low and resonant, as if something ancient had been stirred from a long sleep. A force pulsed through the room, heavy and strange.

Martin gasped. Pain twisted his face. His eyes widened with terror.

"What’s happening to me?" he choked.

His grip on my hands slackened. He hunched forward, clutching his ribs. His body trembled; his voice was ragged.

"My ribs… ahhh!" he screamed, collapsing to his knees with a thud, writhing in agony.

I stumbled back, stunned. I didn’t know what was happening, and neither did anyone else. Papers flew into the air as wind whipped through the sealed room. Cushions tumbled from sofas.

The chaos matched the storm inside me, faces draining of color. My sister’s eyes were wide with shock.

We all looked horrified at what unfolded, everyone except one person.

Edgar Wilson. I turned; my heart dropped. He stood motionless, expression unreadable, eyes fixed on Martin’s suffering, not with pity, but with detached curiosity.

Then, as if compelled, my gaze shifted.

And I saw him, the mysterious guy who had appeared in my room earlier. He stood not far from where the chaos raged, his burning eyes fixed on Martin. His lips curved with a faint, amused smile, as if the uproar entertained him.

No one else saw him.

Before I could even breathe, Edgar vanished, and the dark god disappeared too. Both gone in an instant.

All that remained was a choking sense of dread.

At that moment, I felt something inside me snap. I could not tell if it was the stress or the fear, but my mental strength felt like it was draining away, bit by bit.

I could not begin to comprehend where any of this was coming from.

The silence after their disappearance was deafening, a vacuum where chaos had reigned.

Martin groaned on the floor, clutching his ribs, his former arrogance replaced by raw pain.

The commotion slowly subsided, staff hurrying to him, pale and shaken.

Mr. and Mrs. Wilson hurried out, their confidence crumbling into fear.

My father, his usual composure shattered, barked orders at the household staff, demanding to know what had happened. His voice was tight with barely suppressed fury and confusion.

My mother hovered nearby, hand pressed to her chest, eyes wide with fear deeper than shock.

Lina stood still, a mask of stunned silence, her earlier jealousy forgotten in the face of the inexplicable.

Camelia looked as if she had witnessed a waking nightmare.

I was about to step toward her when Martin, despite his obvious pain, somehow forced himself to his feet. His face twisted with hate, eyes locked on me.

"This doesn’t end here, Elizabeth. We’ll meet at school."

I was scared to the point of trembling. Declaring war on someone as dangerous as Martin was madness. Yet, with stubborn ferocity, he seized Camelia’s wrist and dragged her from the scene.

My mind raced, trying to make sense of what I had just witnessed.

I felt a profound isolation, alone with a secret that defied explanation, a burden that clung like a shadow.

My thoughts scrambled for answers. Could I have summoned a ghost, truly? Was I losing my mind?

What role had Edgar played in this unfolding drama? Was he a pawn like me in a larger game, or was he the one behind what had just happened?

That question clawed at the back of my mind, louder than the whispers in the hallway.

Nothing added up.

I knew no one would believe me on this, not even my family. The world would call me insane. If I didn’t find the truth soon, my thoughts churned, unaware that a far greater threat was already creeping closer.