The Smith Mansion — Noon.
8:56 AM
Lloyd sat at the breakfast table, but he was no longer eating.
He had set his fork down beside his plate and was staring at his own hands.
The same hands that last night, in that strange dream, had twisted reality itself.
And now…
now his knee didn’t hurt.
“This is impossible…” he murmured to himself.
“My knee… I’ve lived with this pain for 11 years.”
He stood and took a few steps around the room.
His knee joint moved smoothly, as if he had never fallen from the fourth floor.
At that moment, the sound of Thomas’s heavy, measured footsteps echoed from the hallway.
Lloyd looked up.
His father had returned, but this time his face was different.
The morning smile had faded.
Now he was the same Thomas as always: serious, focused, with a clenched jaw and furrowed brows.
Thomas stopped at the table and said without preamble:
“Lloyd, plans have changed. I couldn’t cancel today’s meeting. I have to go.”
Lloyd said nothing.
He just looked at him.
Disappointment poured down the back of his neck like cold water, but he tried not to show it.
Thomas continued, his voice formal and dry, as if issuing orders to his soldiers:
“You are not to leave the mansion today. At all. Not even for a minute. You will stay in your room and not come out.”
“But Father… we were supposed to…”
“I know.” Thomas paused for a moment, and for a fraction of a second, a softness appeared in his voice.
But it vanished quickly.
“But today is not an ordinary day. Trust me.”
Then he turned toward the door and, in a voice that was now commanding, addressed the guards standing in the hallway:
“Alert all security personnel: from this moment until my return, the mansion is on full alert. No one enters, no one leaves. Even the staff have been dismissed for today.”
He turned to Gary, who had just emerged from the bathroom with wet hair and somewhat less wrinkled clothes and still had no idea what storm he was standing in the middle of:
“Gary, you will stay with Lloyd in his room all day. You will not leave his side. If you take your eyes off him, I will personally come for you. Understood?”
Gary stood bolt upright like a released spring.
The towel fell from his hand to the floor.
His face had gone white as milk.
“Sir… I… yes… of course. I mean, eyes on him. Both eyes. All the eyes I have on him. Sir.”
Thomas gave him a cold, brief look, then walked toward the mansion’s exit.
Before leaving completely, he paused for a moment and, without turning back, said:
“Lloyd… I’ll be back this evening. Maybe we can go tomorrow.”
And then the door closed.
Lloyd’s Room — 9:35 AM
The room had sunk into silence.
Gary sat by the door, his back against the wall, staring at the ceiling with a face that still hadn’t regained its color.
Every now and then he muttered things under his breath, of which only words like “Firan,” “execution,” and “bicycle” were discernible.
Lloyd lay on his bed, looking out the window.
The sky was still gray.
The clouds heavy and motionless, but the wind was still blowing.
It shook the bare branches of the garden trees.
He felt heavy-hearted.
Not just because the bicycle ride had been canceled, but because of something else.
Something he couldn’t name.
A stifled feeling, a deep restlessness coiled inside his chest.
“Last night everything was different…” he thought.
“Last night I was free. I had no pain. I wasn’t afraid. But now I’m back in this cage.”
He glanced at Gary, who was still grumbling.
“Even Gary has problems in his life. He’s imprisoned in his own way too.”
And then, involuntarily, his thoughts returned to the dream.
To that vast castle of shadow and bone.
To that gray mist.
To that black orb.
To the four elements that had swirled before him and then…
had sunk into him. Read this novel at g.com for the best experience.
“Wind…” he whispered.
“I felt the wind. It moved my hair. It was real.”
He didn’t know why, but in that moment, the wind had felt more real to him than all the other elements.
Perhaps because of the excitement he’d felt in the dream.
Perhaps because when he was afraid, it was the wind that had coiled around him.
Now too, in this quiet, gloomy room, he felt something similar.
A restlessness.
A suppressed excitement.
Something that wanted to break out, like wind trapped behind a closed window.
He got up and went to the window.
The glass was cold.
His breath condensed on it and blurred it.
He looked outside.
The mansion’s large garden, with trees whose branches trembled in the wind.
Guards in black raincoats walking back and forth.
The tall iron fence around the mansion.
“Today I can’t go outside…” he thought.
“Not even for a minute.”
His heart grew heavier.
And in that moment, something stirred inside him.
Something like that mysterious pulse he had felt in the dream.
He placed his hand on the glass.
The glass was warm from his breath.
And then, it happened.
The curtain beside the window moved.
At first, Lloyd didn’t pay attention.
He thought the wind must have come in through a crack in the window.
But then he noticed something: the window was closed.
Completely closed.
And the curtain on the other window, across the room, had also moved.
He frowned.
The papers on his desk began to tremble.
First one sheet, then another.
A corner of a paper lifted and fell back down.
A pencil that was on the desk rolled off and fell to the floor.
Gary lifted his head from beside the door.
“Sir? Did you leave the window open?”
“No…” Lloyd said, his eyes wide.
“None of them are open.”
A small wind swirled inside the room.
Not a wind from outside, but a wind from nowhere.
It stirred Lloyd’s black hair.
The papers on the desk flew to the middle of the room and circled around Lloyd like white butterflies.
Gary jumped to his feet.
“Lloyd! What is this?!”
But Lloyd just stood and watched.
His heart was racing, but not from fear.
From something else.
From…
excitement.
“Wind…” repeated in his mind.
“This is the same wind… the same wind from the dream.”
The wind grew stronger.
The comic books Mr.
John had given him yesterday rose from the desk and opened in the air.
Their pages flipped rapidly, as if someone were reading them.
The curtains danced in the air.
Even the blanket on his bed lifted from one corner and waved in the air like a flag.
Gary backed up and pressed himself against the wall.
The towel still on his shoulder fell.
“Lloyd… what is happening?! I… should I alert the guards?! Your father?! Someone who exists and can help?!” Find the original chapter at g.com.
The wind had now gathered in the center of the room, spinning like a small tornado.
Papers, books, even the small cushion from the couch — all were caught in this miniature whirlwind, circling around Lloyd.
The rustle of paper and the howl of wind filled the silent room.
Lloyd took a deep breath.
He tried to calm down.
He closed his eyes.
He thought of something that brought him peace.
His mother’s ring.
But he didn’t calm down.
Because he was afraid.
Afraid of Gary seeing.
Afraid of his father finding out.
Afraid of…
being some kind of freak.
And that fear made the wind stronger.
One of the books shot toward the mirror.
Lloyd involuntarily stretched out his hand, as if trying to catch it, but the book stopped in mid-air.
Just a few centimeters from the mirror.
Suspended.
Then it fell to the floor with a thud.
Gary, now completely white, stood on his tiptoes and stared at the door, as if calculating how long it would take to escape.
“Lloyd… this is… this is one of those things. One of those supernatural things. I’ve seen this in movies.”
“I know, Gary!” Lloyd shouted, his voice now a mixture of anger, excitement, and confusion.
“I don’t know why I’m feeling excited.”
At that moment, the wind grew even stronger.
Not just the papers — the chair beside the desk also moved.
Its wooden legs scraped across the floor, creating a scream-like sound.
Lloyd’s gaze fell on Gary.
Gary: “Just calm down. Laugh a little and you’ll relax.”
A nervous, uncontrollable laugh.
“I’m… I’m laughing?” he thought to himself.
And that laugh, that moment of release, laid the wind to rest.
The small whirlwind fell apart.
The papers floated gently to the floor.
The books closed.
The curtains hung motionless.
Silence returned.
The only sounds in the room were Gary’s panting and the beat of Lloyd’s own heart.
Lloyd looked at his hands.
The same ordinary hands.
His fingers were still trembling slightly.
In a voice that was calm again, but still firm, he said:
“Gary…”
“Yes?” Gary was still pressed against the wall.
“You won’t tell anyone. Not my father. Not Camila. Not even that God you were hoping in last night.”
Gary swallowed.
“Sir… I… I don’t even know what happened to be able to tell it. I mean, I know what happened, but I don’t know what happened. I mean…”
“Gary.”
“Yes?”
“Let’s just assume we were hallucinating.”
“I agree one hundred percent.”
Lloyd sat down on his bed.
His knees still didn’t hurt.
His stutter hadn’t returned.
And now, the wind was also in the grip of his will — though he still didn’t know how.
He looked out the window.
The sky was still gray.
A corner of his mind (Lloyd’s mental note):
“Wind… the same wind that coiled around me in the dream last night. It comes when I’m excited. It gets stronger when I’m afraid. Maybe… maybe this is just the beginning. Maybe there are other things inside me too. Wait… last night there were four elements.”