Chapter 7 : Omitted by Light
1430 Words
Rheon sat quietly as she wrapped the band around his arm. He wasn’t sure if anything made sense anymore. He wasn’t sure if he made sense.
Something changed in his vitals. It was… too steady. Unnaturally calm.As if his heart had learned how to lie.
The nurse furrowed her brow, staring at the screen. “Your blood pressure is… normal. Almost perfect, actually.”
She checked again.No fluctuation. No panic. No irregularity.
Rheon blinked. He could feel the tremble in his fingers, the heat in his ear still lingering… but the machine told a different story.
It was as if his body had decided not to expose him. Rheon walked quickly, almost at a run, but not quite. His shoulders were tense. His palms were cold.
The sun was already tilting low, casting long shadows across the schoolyard as the final bell echoed behind him.
He just wanted to go home. But as he neared the school gate, a group of students was already waiting.
They stood in a loose semicircle, laughing, talking, relaxed… until they spotted him. “Hey. Weirdo.”
Rheon froze.
The tall boy stepped forward from the group, the others falling quiet behind him. Rheon instinctively tried to turn, but the path back was full of students. Teachers. Eyes.
He couldn’t escape. So he slowed his steps… cautiously approaching, as if every inch cost him something.
The tall boy smirked. “Why are you always running from me?”
Rheon didn’t answer right away. The air around them felt too quiet. Even the breeze had stopped moving.
“You guilty about something?” the tall boy added, eyes narrowing just enough.
Rheon took a breath. Swallowed. “No… I’m just not feeling well today.”
The boy raised a brow. “Not feeling well, huh?”
He glanced at his friends, who exchanged vague chuckles, then looked back at Rheon with a grin that didn’t match the weight in his tone.
“You always look like you’re seeing ghosts, you know that?”
Rheon said nothing. His eyes were on the pavement. His heart was loud in his chest again — but only he could hear it.
And this time… he wasn’t sure it was just fear. The tall boy stepped closer, his voice sharper now. “What? You got nothing to say?”
Rheon took a step back. The boy’s hand shot out — not a punch, just a shove to the shoulder. But Rheon staggered. His foot caught the curb, and he fell hard onto the pavement.
Laughter stirred from the group, but it quickly faded as Rheon didn’t move.
The tall boy stepped forward. “Come on. I didn’t even push you that hard. Don’t overact.”
Rheon tried to sit up. But suddenly—
That sound again. A piercing ring. Louder this time. Violent.
His ears burned. The pain shot down his neck, his head pounding like it would split in half. The world tilted. His vision blurred and trembled like heatwaves. His hands trembled against the asphalt.
He gasped. A wet trail dripped from his left ear. Blood.
The tall boy froze, eyes widening. “Holy crap, he’s bleeding!”
One of the boys behind him grabbed his arm. “Let’s go, man. Before a teacher sees.”
“But I didn’t—” The tall boy stuttered, his voice shaken.
“Run!” Footsteps scattered.Then—
“HEY!” The booming voice of the school security guard thundered from behind.
He barged through the gate entrance, face stern. “What are you kids doing?!”
But the boys were already gone, disappearing around the corner of the school wall. The guard started to chase, but stopped. His eyes locked on Rheon.The boy was still crouched on the pavement, clutching his head, blood on his fingertips, breathing ragged.
“…Kid?” the guard said, slower now, walking toward him. “Are you—”
He didn’t finish the sentence.
Because something about Rheon’s eyes in that moment.Flickering with light and darkness beneath the blur — made even the adult pause.
The guard cleared his throat and crouched down slowly, his tone softer now. “Kid… can you hear me?”
The words echoed — not in Rheon’s ears, but somewhere distant, like they were coming through water.
His vision swayed. The sky above him pulsed, colors warping at the edges.
And the voice… it felt far away. He stood alone on a cracked, red plain.
The wind was dry. The sky was empty.
Ash floated in slow, deliberate circles above his head — not falling, not rising. Just suspended, like time itself was holding its breath.
This dream again.
The same scorched ground beneath his feet. The same strange stillness in the air. He had walked here too many nights to count .But tonight… something shifted.
The silence wasn’t complete anymore.
There was a sound beneath it — faint footsteps, slow, deliberate.
He turned. A figure stood in the distance, half-veiled in the ash. Not towering. Not terrifying. But still. Rheon didn’t know them. But some part of him.Deep, aching, and buried, recognized their presence.
They didn’t move. They just watched. He took a step forward. The cracks in the ground glowed faintly beneath him, like old embers stirred by memory. Not fire. Not yet. But heat.
And as he drew closer, he heard it — a voice, soft as breath, almost lost to the wind.
“You’re not ready .” Then the dream pulled away. His eyes opened slowly.
Not all at once. Just a sliver of light leaking through heavy lashes.The brightness stung. The air smelled like disinfectant and something metallic. Machines beeped faintly nearby. A soft rustling. Plastic sheets.
He blinked once.
Then again. Shapes moved in the haze. Voices floated in like echoes from a place far away.
“Rheon-ah… are you awake?” It was his mother’s voice.Trembling at the edges, careful.
“Sweetheart, call the nurse,” she said, turning to someone beside her. Her voice cracked — not out of fear, but relief.
Rheon didn’t move. His body felt heavy. Not just tired, drained. His eyes fluttered again, adjusting.
The ceiling above him was white. The lights too sharp. The world too still. He tried to speak, but no words came out. His lips were dry.
His mother leaned closer, brushing his hair away gently. “You scared us, you know that?”
A soft beep sounded nearby as the door clicked open — footsteps entering. He wanted to say something. But the only thing that lingered in his mind…
…was fire. And a plain made of ash.
The door swung open quietly, and a nurse stepped in, followed closely by a doctor in a white coat.
“Ah, he’s awake,” the nurse said softly, her expression easing. She moved quickly to check the monitor beside him, then gently touched his wrist. “Heart rate’s steady. Breathing normal. That’s a good sign.”
The doctor approached the foot of the bed, flipping through a clipboard. “No signs of trauma. Vitals are strong. We ran a few tests—everything’s within range. Just a fainting episode, likely triggered by stress or fatigue.”
Rheon blinked slowly. His head still felt clouded. Like he’d just woken from something far deeper than sleep.
The nurse gave him a kind smile. “You gave your parents quite a scare, young man.”
After a few more checks and soft-spoken instructions, the medical team left, leaving the room in a gentle hush once more.
His mother sat down at his bedside and reached for his hand, holding it tightly between hers.
“Poor my baby…” she whispered, her thumb brushing over his knuckles. “You’re getting sick when tomorrow’s your birthday…”
Rheon turned his head slightly. The motion felt heavier than it should.
Across the room, his father poured water into a paper cup. He walked over and handed it gently to Rheon.
“Here. Have a drink. You look pale, son.”
Rheon took the cup with shaking fingers, the coolness grounding him.
His father sat beside him now, voice low and firm, the way he always sounded when trying to reassure the family.
“Forget about your birthday, alright? What matters is you getting well. That’s the only thing important right now.”
He glanced at his son’s pale face, then added with a soft sigh, “Maybe it’s all just been too much lately… the exams, school stress. It happens.”
Rheon shifted slightly, blinking harder this time. His lips parted.
- Writer
