Becoming the Wind

Sylphia remained silent as she listened to the ramblings of Havil Firlone—a long-haired white-haired man whose behavior defied the logic of any sane mind. It was as if he was stroking Sylphia’s head, yet his hand hovered mid-air, nearly touching but never making contact. As if... it was intentional. Or perhaps he was afraid?

Havil leaned closer to Sylphia’s ear.

"Oh right, Daddy has a gift for you in Daddy’s lab. Do you want to see it?" he whispered, with a smile that could make babies cry and flowers wither at the same time.

Sylphia said nothing. Silence. Her face was like a stone statue.

Havil’s mood instantly dropped, like a child whose candy had fallen into the gutter.

"Well fine, if you just want to stay quiet... But Daddy believes this gift will change that expression on your face."

With a dramatic gesture, Havil pressed his right hand against the wall. A hidden mechanism clicked, and the wall slowly slid open, revealing a new room. This time, it smelled more... human—burning wax instead of rotting flesh like before.

The room was small, with eight large candles lit atop black iron stands. At the far end stood a wooden table and chair—Havil’s altar. A small lamp flickered dimly above the desk. A wooden bowl sat on the table, filled with a red liquid resembling blood... yet it had no smell. Strange. Unsettling.

The walls were plastered with anatomical diagrams—of both adults and children—but all grotesquely deformed. Just like the previous child victims.

Reyhan, whose mental state was like glass dropped from the tenth floor, still followed.

"Maybe... just to see," he muttered.