Olt and Mariah had walked in silence for a few yards. The main country road was now forming into an uneven, cobblestone path, as they approached the village center. The mid-morning sun, already gaining strength, magnified the rustic wooden buildings that lined the square. Gentle sounds of village life filled the surroundings – the chirping of birds, the distant murmur of voices, the occasional rustle of leaves in the light breeze. A few puddles, remnants of the night's storm, shimmered on the cobblestones, reflecting the clear blue sky.

  Olt took a deep breath, trying to settle his racing heart. He glanced at Mariah, her face calm and composed, and felt a surge of gratitude for her presence. They began to walk, their footsteps tapping softly on the stones.

  They had arrived at the center, a space of commerce and social life in Hooma. Olt, however, was not looking at the charming details of the village square. He had no interest in the potted plants overflowing with vibrant flowers, the lanterns hanging from the eaves of the buildings, or the faded awnings shading shop fronts. His perception felt off. Sharper, somehow, yet also fractured.

  Ahead, in the widening space of the square, a villager, a middle-aged woman with a basket on her arm, browsed the wares displayed outside a small shop. Olt's view locked onto her, then it shifted to something next to her.

  There, standing relaxed by the woman, was the creature.

  It was just as he remembered from the nightmare, yet even more grotesque, more wrong, in the bright, cheerful sunlight. Its lanky frame, draped in the long, dark coat, seemed to absorb the light. It created a pocket of unnatural shadow. The limbs were too long, too thin. The angles were subtly off, like a poorly assembled puppet. The top hat, perched at a jaunty angle, only amplified the unsettling mockery of its presence. And that smile: that too-wide, too-sharp grin, revealing teeth like chipped piano keys, was a slash of predatory malice.

  The creature raised a skeletal hand, its fingers impossibly long and thin. He waved. It was a slow, deliberate, exaggeratedly cheerful wave, directed solely at Olt. A taunt.

  Olt stumbled back, almost choking. His eyes remained wide open, against his own instincts.

  No… no, this can’t be real. It’s still the nightmare… it’s still in my head…

  Suddenly, Olt witnessed a sickening crunch. It was a wet, tearing sound yanked from the woman’s face. This was followed by a muffled scream, abruptly cut short.

  As if he had lost time, Olt forced himself to blink, dread coiling in his stomach. The creature was gone. The woman with the basket was still there, now examining a bolt of fabric. Her movements were unhurried, and her expression normal. All had been as if nothing had happened.

  Gone… it’s gone. It wasn’t real. It was just… just my imagination.

  But the cold certainty, the visceral memory of that sound, clung to him like a shroud.

  “Olt? Are you alright?” Mariah’s voice, laced with concern, cut through his internal turmoil.

  He felt her hand on his arm, a soft touch.

  “You just froze. What’s wrong? What did you see?”

  Olt shook his head, trying to force a smile, to appear normal.

  “Uh… yeah, I’m fine. Just got dizzy for a second. I’m still recovering from last night. The sun’s probably making it worse, maybe.”

  His eyes darted around the square, searching, expecting to see the Creature again. He avoided Mariah’s stare.

  They started walking again. The cobblestones felt uneven beneath his feet, the cheerful sounds of the village now grating and jarring.

  Mariah glanced at him, her expression troubled.

  “Olt… you don’t seem okay. Really, what happened last night? You used the Aether, but never drank the potion. Then, your reaction to the healing made me very concerned. I was afraid it would have some bad effects on you. Did it? Did you experience anything unusual?”

  He hesitated, the memory of the nightmare, of the creature’s voice, suffocating him. He opened his mouth to deny it, to dismiss it as a dream, but the words caught in his throat. He couldn't lie, not to Mariah.

  “I… you said I was only under for about a minute,” he began, hesitantly. “But, I had a nightmare. A really bad one.”

  He struggled to find the words, to describe the indescribable.

  “There was this… thing. It was tall, dressed like…it was off. It kept smiling at me.”

  He shivered, the memory of that grotesque grin sending chills down his spine.

  “It called me his patron.”

  Mariah stopped walking.

  “A night terror, maybe? You were under a lot of stress.”

  “Are you sure no one remembers their trip when they undergo the ritual?” Olt asked.

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  He thought he knew the answer. But it was evident that what he had experienced in the past twenty four hours was out of reason.

  “You know that answer. Are you sure you didn’t drink the-”

  “Why would I lie, Mariah?” Olt interjected, raising his voice.

  He continued.

  “I was inches away from dying. Fucking gasping for air. Then, out of nowhere, this coldness, as if I had a bad fever, just took over me. Next thing I knew, the veins on my hand were shining. I didn’t have time to think, I just acted.”

  Deep and anxious, Olt’s eyes held Mariah’s attention.

  “Then, you come out of nowhere. Again, that coldness takes me out. And I have some monster peer pressuring me into taking the potion!”

  Paranoid, looking over his shoulder, Olt added.

  “I’ve seen this fuck three times since last night. And the only thing I know is that it started when I supposedly got jolted with Aether.”

  Olt, I’m sorry,” Mariah said softly, her voice serious. “People usually experience this in a controlled environment for a reason. I know it’s been a lot.”

  She paused, focused on the anxiety on Olt’s face.

  “Believe me, we’ve all been trying to figure out what happened to you. The Aether, its source, it’s a mystery, even to those of us who use it. We know the catalyst, we know how to leverage it, but we don’t know what exactly happens when we undergo the trip, nor why. We just know that you pass out for a while and when you wake up, some of us can manipulate physics.”

  She took a deep breath, her expression grave.

  “You obviously broke all the rules. And I get your logic. This nightmare… creature…”

  She shook her head slightly, and noticed some of the passersby gave them concerned expressions.

  “Olt, let’s find a place to sit and think this through.”

  …

  They settled on a small, unoccupied stone bench nestled beneath the shade of a large, sprawling tree just off the main path. It offered a semblance of privacy, away from the casual foot traffic of the village square.

  The air felt noticeably cooler in the shade, a welcome respite from the increasingly strong sun. Olt leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped loosely in front of him. He stared at the ground, his expression troubled. His mind still raced with images from the encounter in the square.

  Mariah sat beside him, leaving a respectful distance, but close enough to offer comfort and support. She waited, giving him a moment to collect his thoughts.

  After a long silence, Mariah spoke softly.

  "Olt, I know it's frightening. But you're not alone. We'll figure this out, together."

  Olt looked up at her.

  "I saw it, Mariah. Right there, in the square." He shook his head, the disbelief still evident in his voice. "And that sound. The woman… it was like…" He trailed off, unable to articulate the horror of what he'd witnessed. It was too raw.

  Mariah nodded slowly, acknowledging the validity of his experience, even if she couldn't fully explain it.

  "I believe you, Olt. I know you long enough to trust your instincts."

  She paused, choosing her words carefully.

  "There’s a theory out there. Real old, almost a conspiracy at this point. The Dormant genes. Have you heard of it?”

  “Dormant genes aren’t a theory. We know that much,” Olt replied, still hunched over.

  “Not the gene itself,” Mariah said in a whisper. “But what they do.”

  Olt straightened himself and looked at Mariah.

  “They’re supposed to alter how users interact with the Aether, no? I wouldn’t call that a conspiracy theory.”

  Mariah’s eyes wandered away towards the ground, as a sly smile formed.

  “I dedicated my profession to the physics of our power, but it never stopped me from the weirder theories. You can imagine how I fell into the rabbit hole when I heard that Dormant genes might hold the answer to unlocking our memory.”

  Olt’s jaw almost dropped.

  “Wait, you mean…”

  Mariah interrupted him.

  “I’ve been thinking of running blood work on you. According to the theory, the Dormant genes were engineered-it’s not a natural mutation. A byproduct of it was unlocking the memory. But if it can do such an incredible thing, it might also allow a user to tap into the Aether without even drinking the potion.”

  “You got any evidence of this?” Olt asked.

  “Nothing official,” Mariah said coldly. “The Firms… the Big 5 like Krautzberger guard all their research on Dormant genes. Or did you never notice students from the institute being plucked out for a better, private schooling at one of the Big 5?

  Olt nodded as he sighed heavily. He did notice. But Mariah and him formed a bond because they were alike. They were suspicious of power. He thought he was being paranoid.

  “Because I volunteered with the Biology department,” Mariah continued, “I had access to student bloodwork. They all had some version of the gene-D3, 5, or 9. The firms control the narrative, Olt."

  She looked at him, her eyes filled with concern and a growing sense of unease.

  The layoff, his family’s impending foreclosure, Freddy extorting him, his meeting with Veronica, the attack on his family, and now this. Stress and anxiety now joined fear. Olt was ready to confront a cruel life of danger. A monster toying with his mind, however, was not something he had taken into account. With all the events, Olt never took time to think things through. He simply reacted. Properties from a netherworld and sadistic creatures were something Olt knew he could not be reactionary about.

  An image of defeat drawn on Jeffrey’s face, of Omar being disrespected, of the fear in Hannah’s eyes, and the bruise on Cristina’s face manifested in Olt’s mind. It was as vivid as the creature itself. Life kept beating him down, just like it did to so many. He saw them every day as he stepped out of his decrepit apartment. If he was going to be afraid, he wasn’t going to be vulnerable, too.

  “There’s only one way to find out if this conspiracy theory holds true,” Olt said as his demeanor emboldened.

  Mariah’s eyes began to open wide. She knew what he was going to say.

  “Please help me do the ritual,” Olt requested. “I know you have your ways of getting the ingredients. There’s a shop in town that sells Indigo leaves. It’s pricey but I got the money.”

  Mariah's brow wrinkled, her mind racing, trying to make sense of Olt's words. She looked at Olt, her eyes filled with a growing sense of urgency.

  “You want to do it, now?”

  “Yes, now! I can’t waste anymore time. If it works, we’ll know more and I’ll be in a better place for my meeting with Veronica tomorrow.”

  “You know fermenting those leaves if you’re not the Firms or the Institute is illegal, right?” Mariah warned.

  “We’re fucked already, Mariah. Besides, no one cares about what happens in the Bonvista Complex,” Olt replied as he stood up.

  The Bonvista Complex was part of the highrise building community where Mariah lived.

  “No, no - not at my place!” she demanded.

  Olt was a few feet away, marching towards his next destination.

  “Damn it, Olt!” she began. “This is what I get for being sweet!"