STRANGE MAGIC

CHAPTER.9

That evening, Darren did not go home. Instead, he walked straight to his friend Joran’s house. The night air was cool, and the village was slowly falling silent as lanterns flickered in the distance. When Darren arrived, Joran was nowhere to be found. He decided to wait, sitting quietly by the small wooden fence in front of the house.

Minutes turned into hours. He waited for nearly two hours, the evening growing darker, the air heavier. Then, at last, he saw Joran approaching from the path, carrying a small sack over his shoulder.

When Joran came closer, he looked at Darren in surprise. “Darren? What are you doing here at this hour?” he asked. “You should be at home by now.”

Darren’s expression was serious. “You shouldn’t be asking me that kind of question,” he said firmly. “I came to see you because there’s something I need to discuss with you.”

Joran frowned, a little confused but curious. “What is it? What’s going on?”

Darren took a deep breath before speaking. “I heard from the trader,” he said slowly, his tone heavy. “He told me that you didn’t deliver the sword like you promised — and that you told him I refused to sell it. He also said we fought, that I nearly killed him. Now he’s spreading rumors, and it’s putting us both in danger. You and I are in danger, Joran. I don’t know the full truth yet, but I can feel something strange coming. We have to be careful who we make deals with.”

Joran’s eyes widened. He hesitated before replying, “Danger? What do you mean, danger? You’re blaming me for this now?” He folded his arms, frustration rising in his voice. “Darren, this is your fault. You should have chosen your business partners more wisely. I told you before that the trader was not trustworthy. Now see what’s happened.”

“I am not the one at fault,” Darren said, his voice sharper now. “You were the one who made the connection. You brought me into this deal, and now you want to act innocent?”

Joran’s expression hardened. “I’m done talking about this. Whatever happens, it’s on you. I don’t want to be involved anymore. Maybe this was your plan all along — to drag me into your mess.”

Darren’s face darkened, but he didn’t raise his voice. Instead, he gave a faint, bitter smile. “I like people who behave this way,” he said quietly, “pretending to be clean when the dirt is on their own hands.”

Without another word, he turned around and left Joran’s compound. The night was silent except for the faint sound of crickets in the distance. His footsteps echoed against the path as he walked alone through the dark streets of Mentliway.

By the time Darren got home, the moon had already risen high in the sky. The light from it spilled through the windows, pale and ghostly. His parents were asleep. Carefully, he went around the house, closing all the windows and making sure everything was in order. He placed his sword beside the bed and finally lay down, exhausted from the long day.

But peace didn’t come. That night, as he drifted into sleep, terrible dreams filled his mind — shadows chasing him through endless corridors, voices whispering his name, and the faint, golden glow of his sword pulsing in the dark.

And just before he woke, he heard a voice — low and echoing — say something that made his heart freeze.

“You cannot run from what’s inside you,

Darren.”

Then, everything went silent.