I grew up in a town where people believed in things I never did.

Angels.

Demons.

Guardian angels.

Chosen children.

To outsiders, it sounded like stories—old, dramatic, exaggerated. But here, people didn’t just tell those stories. They lived by them. They trusted them more than logic, more than proof, more than anything real.

And I hated that.

Not because I was scared of those stories.

But because everyone expected me to believe them too.

I was born into a family of priests. Not ordinary ones—respected ones. People looked at my family like we were closer to the divine than everyone else. Like we had a role to play in something bigger.

According to them, we did.

They said one of my ancestors was a chosen child. Someone blessed by the gods themselves. Someone who had a guardian angel—an actual divine being—assigned to protect them from all evil.

And now, they believed history would repeat itself.

That another chosen child would be born in our family.

Between me… and my elder sister.

Of course, they chose her.

She believed in everything. Followed every ritual, every prayer, every rule. People admired her. Trusted her. They looked at her like she was already chosen, just waiting for confirmation.

And me?

I didn’t believe in any of it.

So to them, I was the problem.

The ungrateful one.

The one who didn’t deserve something so “sacred.”

Honestly, I didn’t care.

I didn’t want to be surrounded by people whispering things like “You’re special… you’ll bless us… you’ll change our lives…” It felt suffocating. Fake. Like I wasn’t a person anymore—just a story they wanted to believe in.

So I ignored it all.

Until something happened that I couldn’t explain.

It was a normal evening. Nothing strange. Nothing unusual. I was just walking through the house with my cousins and a few of my aunts. We were talking about random things, laughing like we always did.

Everything felt… ordinary.

And then—

CRACK.

The sound came out of nowhere.

Before I could even understand what was happening, the floor beneath me gave way.

For a second, I felt nothing.

Then I dropped.

My foot went straight through the wood, my body losing balance as the ground disappeared under me.

I didn’t even have time to scream.

Someone grabbed my arm.

Hard.

I felt myself being pulled back, my body slamming against the solid part of the floor as splinters scratched my skin.

“Are you okay?!”

Voices surrounded me.

Hands pulling me up.

Panic everywhere.

I couldn’t answer immediately. My heart was racing too fast, my breathing uneven. I just nodded, still trying to process what had just happened.

Everyone started talking at once.

“The floor is rotten—”

“This house is getting too old—”

“This could’ve been bad—”

They treated it like an accident.

Like something normal.

Like something that just happens in an old house.

And maybe it was.

That’s what I told myself.

But for a moment… just a moment…

When I looked down into that broken part of the floor…

Something felt wrong.

It wasn’t just wood.

It looked deeper than it should have been.

Darker.

Not empty… just hidden.

Like the dark down there wasn’t just the absence of light, but something waiting for it.

Like if I leaned a little closer… it would look back.

But before I could look properly, someone pulled me away.

“Don’t go near it,” they said.

And I didn’t.

I didn’t think about it again.

Or at least… I tried not to.

That night, I saw something outside my window.

A white blur.

Fast.

Too fast to understand.

It crossed my vision in a second and disappeared into the darkness.

I sat up immediately, staring at the window.

Waiting.

But nothing happened.

No sound.

No movement.

No explanation.

And that silence…

It didn’t feel empty.

It felt like something had just been there.

Close.

Watching.

I stared for a few more seconds before lying back down.

“Just my imagination…”

That’s what I told myself.

It was easier that way.

The next day, one of my friends died.

People said it was an accident.

But when I saw her…

I knew it wasn’t.

There were marks on her body. Deep ones. Sharp ones. The kind that didn’t come from falling or slipping or anything normal.

Something had hurt her.

Something that didn’t make sense.

Something that didn’t need to make sense.

I felt uneasy.

But I still didn’t connect it.

I still didn’t want to.

A few days later, it happened again.

That same white blur.

Outside my window.

Silent.

Fast.

Gone before I could react.

This time, I didn’t even move.

I didn’t want to see it clearly.

I didn’t want to know.

The next day…

Another friend died.

That’s when the pattern started.

Or maybe… that’s when I finally stopped ignoring it.

Every time I saw that white blur…

Someone close to me died.

Not strangers.

Not random people.

My friends.

And the worst part?

Their bodies were always found near my house.

Sometimes outside.

Sometimes inside.

In places they shouldn’t have been.

Places they couldn’t have reached on their own.

People didn’t accuse us directly.

They wouldn’t dare.

But the way they looked at us changed.

Like they were trying not to think something…

but already had.

Some of them whispered that this was divine punishment.

That my friends were sinners.

That being close to our family brought judgment.

I hated it.

Because deep down…

I knew something they didn’t.

This wasn’t punishment.

This wasn’t fate.

This was something else.

Something wrong.

Something that didn’t care about right or wrong at all.

Something that felt like it was… connected to me.

And I didn’t know why.

I tried to ignore it.

Tried to act normal.

Tried to believe it was all coincidence.

But no matter how much I tried—

That feeling didn’t go away.

That something was watching.

Waiting.

Getting closer.

And somehow…

It had already chosen me.

I try to act like nothing is happening.

Like I didn’t see it.

Like my friends aren’t dying one by one.

Like the house isn’t… changing.

Morning feels normal.

Too normal.

Voices in the kitchen. Footsteps in the hall. My sister talking like everything is still in place, like nothing has shifted.

But something has.

And I can feel it.

I don’t go near my room for most of the day.

But night comes anyway.

It always does.

When I step inside my room, my dragon is already there.

Curled in the corner like always.

Watching.

Quiet.

I sit on my bed.

My eyes drift to the window.

I don’t want them to.

But they do.

Then—

White.

A blur.

Fast.

Gone.

My body goes still.

I don’t move.

I don’t even breathe properly.

“…You saw it again,” my dragon says softly.

I don’t answer.

Then—

A sound.

From inside the house.

Not outside.

Not the window.

Inside.

A dragging noise.

Slow.

Uneven.

My head turns toward the door.

My heart starts pounding.

“…Did you hear that?” I whisper.

“I did,” my dragon replies.

No one else reacts.

No voices.

No footsteps.

Just that sound.

Again.

Closer.

I stand.

My legs feel heavy.

Like they don’t belong to me.

The hallway feels wrong.

The lamps are lit, but the light feels weak.

The shadows feel deeper.

The sound stops.

Then—

A voice.

Faint.

Broken.

“…h…help…”

My chest tightens.

I know that voice.

I move toward the room.

The door is slightly open.

Dark inside.

My hand reaches it.

I hesitate.

Something inside me is screaming not to.

“Don’t go,” my dragon says quietly.

I ignore him.

I push the door open.

For a moment—

I don’t understand what I’m seeing.

Then—

I do.

It’s there.

Standing near the far side of the room.

Black feathers.

Wings folded tight.

Too big.

Too wrong.

Its head turns.

Slowly.

Its eyes lock onto mine.

And then—

I hear it again.

“…help…”

I look down.

My friend.

She’s still alive.

Barely.

Her body is—

I can’t understand it.

I don’t want to.

She’s trying to move.

Trying to reach me.

Her hand trembles.

Her lips move again—

“…p…please…”

My body doesn’t move.

I want to help her.

I do.

I swear I do.

But I can’t.

My legs won’t move.

My voice won’t come out.

My whole body is frozen.

The creature doesn’t touch me.

Doesn’t attack.

Doesn’t rush.

It just watches.

Watches me.

Watching her.

Like it’s waiting for something.

Waiting for me.

Something inside my chest tightens.

Twists.

Breaks.

And then—

I scream.

A sharp, high-pitched scream tears out of me.

Loud enough to hurt my own ears.

Loud enough to echo through the entire house.

The creature doesn’t react.

Not at first.

Then—

It moves.

Not toward me.

Not toward her.

It steps back.

Spreads its wings—

And vanishes.

Gone.

Just like that.

The room feels empty instantly.

Too empty.

Footsteps.

Running.

Fast.

“What happened?!”

My parents’ voices.

Closer.

I’m still standing there.

Shaking.

Breathing too fast.

My ears ringing.

They rush in.

My mother reaches me first.

Grabs my shoulders.

“What happened?! Tell me!”

I try to speak.

I can’t.

My throat closes.

No words come out.

My father looks at me first.

Confused.

Then concerned.

Then—

He looks past me.

At the floor.

And everything changes.

His face goes still.

Completely still.

“…No…” he whispers.

My mother follows his gaze.

And then—

She sees it too.

My friend.

What’s left of her.

Her grip on me tightens.

Too tight.

“What happened?” she asks again.

But this time—

Her voice is quieter.

Shaking.

I open my mouth.

I want to tell them.

About the creature.

About the feathers.

About the eyes.

But I can’t.

Because I didn’t help her.

Because I just stood there.

“I… I don’t know…” I whisper.

The words feel wrong.

But they’re the only ones that come out.

Later…

When everything is quiet again…

I sit in my room.

My dragon beside me.

“You froze,” he says.

Not accusing.

Just stating it.

I nod.

“I heard her,” I whisper.

My voice breaks.

“…she was asking for help…”

Silence.

Then I say the thing I don’t want to admit.

“…and I didn’t do anything.”

The words feel heavier than everything else.

My dragon doesn’t respond immediately.

Then—

“It didn’t attack you,” he says.

I look at him.

“That’s not mercy.”

My chest tightens.

“It’s choosing,” I whisper.

The realization settles in.

Cold.

Clear.

“It’s choosing who dies…”

Outside—

A white blur moves past the window again.

Fast.

Silent.

Gone.

I stare at the darkness.

“…and it’s making sure I watch.”

I don’t sleep.

Not that night.

Not after that.

Every time I close my eyes, I see her hand reaching for me.

Shaking.

Waiting.

And me—

Standing there.

Doing nothing.

Morning comes anyway.

It always does.

Like nothing happened.

Like something didn’t break inside me.

The house is quieter now.

Not peaceful.

Just… careful.

People don’t speak loudly anymore.

They don’t laugh the same way.

They don’t look at me the same way either.

No one asks me what I saw.

Not again.

Because they already know I won’t answer.

But they still look.

Not directly.

Just enough to make me feel it.

I stay in my room.

My dragon is there.

He doesn’t say much.

He doesn’t need to.

“…It’s not random,” I say finally.

My voice sounds dry.

Distant.

“No,” he replies.

“It knew she was there.”

“Yes.”

“It waited.”

He doesn’t answer immediately.

Then—

“Yes.”

The word settles like something heavy.

I press my hands against my face.

Think.

Think.

Think.

“There has to be a reason,” I whisper.

“There is.”

I look at him.

“You know something.”

“I know enough.”

“Then tell me.”

He watches me for a moment.

Like he’s deciding something.

“You won’t like it.”

“I don’t care.”

Silence.

Then—

“This house isn’t just a house.”

I let out a small, humorless breath.

“Don’t start with that—”

“Listen.”

Something in his voice stops me.

“There are things here,” he continues. “Things that were never meant to be found.”

My mind flashes—

The broken floor.

That darkness.

That feeling.

“…The place where I almost fell.”

He nods.

“You felt it, didn’t you?”

I don’t answer.

Because I did.

“That wasn’t just an accident,” he says.

My chest tightens.

“Then what was it?”

“A mistake.”

The word doesn’t make sense.

“A mistake?” I repeat.

“Yes.”

“A mistake by who?”

He doesn’t answer.

And somehow—

That’s worse.

Silence stretches.

Then he speaks again.

“You were chosen long before you understood what that meant.”

I frown slightly.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

He shifts slightly, his wings adjusting against his small body.

“My kind does not stay with a family by chance,” he says.

“We are not pets. We are not guardians given freely.”

I stare at him.

“We choose,” he continues.

Something in my chest tightens.

“Every generation… one of us is born. Not raised. Not passed down like an object.”

His voice is calm, but there’s something ancient in it.

“We remember more than we should. More than we are meant to say.”

I don’t interrupt.

I can’t.

“And when the time comes…” he looks directly at me,

“We choose who we stay with.”

The room feels quieter.

Heavier.

“You chose me?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He doesn’t answer immediately.

Then—

“Because you were the only one who didn’t blindly believe.”

That wasn’t the answer I expected.

“You question things,” he continues. “You don’t accept them just because they exist. That makes you dangerous… and necessary.”

My thoughts slow down.

Settle.

“…So you’ve been watching me this whole time?”

“Yes.”

“How much do you know?”

“Enough to know this was going to happen.”

The words land harder than anything else.

“…And you didn’t stop it.”

His eyes don’t change.

“I can guide you,” he says quietly. “I cannot choose for you.”

Silence.

Then I stand up.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“I’m going there.”

His expression sharpens.

“That’s not a good idea.”

“Neither is waiting for the next person to die.”

He doesn’t argue after that.

We walk through the house quietly.

No one stops me.

No one notices.

Or maybe they do—

And they choose not to.

The part of the house where the floor broke is empty.

No one goes there now.

The broken wood is still there.

Untouched.

Avoided.

I step closer.

My heartbeat picks up.

It looks the same.

But it doesn’t feel the same.

Now—

It feels like something is beneath it.

Not empty.

Not hollow.

Watching.

“You don’t have to do this,” my dragon says.

“Yes, I do.”

I kneel down.

Carefully.

The broken part is wide enough.

If I push it—

It shifts.

Dust falls.

Old wood cracks further.

And underneath—

Darkness.

Not just shadow.

Something deeper.

There’s space down there.

More than there should be.

“…That’s not a basement,” I whisper.

“No,” my dragon says.

My hand trembles slightly as I reach down.

There’s something there.

Not just empty space.

A surface.

Flat.

Wood.

A door.

My breath catches.

“…There’s something under the house.”

“Yes.”

I pull my hand back slowly.

My thoughts are racing now.

Faster than I can control.

“This… this has been here the whole time?”

“Yes.”

“And no one knew?”

“They weren’t supposed to.”

The words don’t sit right.

I stare into the darkness again.

Then I remember something.

The story.

My ancestor.

The chosen one.

The one who sealed something.

“…This is connected,” I whisper.

My dragon doesn’t deny it.

That’s all the answer I need.

I stand up slowly.

“What’s down there?” I ask.

He looks at me.

Long.

Careful.

Then he says—

“Something that should never have been let out.”

My chest tightens.

“…And now it is?”

Silence.

That’s enough.

I look down again.

At the hidden door.

At the darkness waiting beneath it.

For a moment—

I think about walking away.

Pretending I never saw it.

Going back to my room.

Closing the door.

Ignoring everything.

But then—

I see her again.

Reaching for me.

Asking for help.

And me—

Doing nothing.

My hands curl into fists.

“…Not this time,” I whisper.

I look at my dragon.

“Stay close.”

He doesn’t smile.

He doesn’t warn me again.

He just says—

“I always do.”

I take a breath.

Then I reach down—

And push the hidden door open.

Darkness answers.

And for the first time—

I feel like something down there…

is finally ready to meet me.