The rain battered the windowpanes as the clock struck midnight. The delivery room was eerily silent for a moment after the baby’s first cry—a sound more like a long, echoing wail than a newborn’s squall. Doctors exchanged uneasy glances as the lights flickered, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop by several degrees. None could ignore the strange shadow that flitted across the wall, lingering for an instant before vanishing into the gloom.
The boy, named Elias by his bewildered mother, grew into a quiet child with wide, storm-gray eyes. Whenever he was near, toys would tremble and spin on their own, and sometimes, whispers like a distant wind would curl through the room. Elias rarely cried, instead staring at the world with a calm too old for his years. Neighbors whispered about flickering lights and cold spots whenever they visited the house.
It was hard for Elias to fit in—other kids kept their distance, unnerved by his uncanny presence and the strange things that happened wherever he went. Lockers slammed shut without warning, and the classroom clocks sometimes spun backward when he was nearby. Teachers tried to be patient, but even they found themselves stuttering or forgetting their own words in his presence. Elias, for his part, seemed resigned to solitude, his gaze always distant, as if listening to something no one else could hear.
Ryan Miller, the ringleader, shoved Elias against the wall, his friends jeering around him. "Freak! Why don’t you do something weird now, huh?" Elias looked up, his eyes stormy and unreadable. The air grew thick, almost suffocating, as lockers began to rattle and the lights above sputtered violently. A hush fell over the hallway as a low, unnatural hum filled the air.
Teachers and students alike watched in stunned silence as Elias seemed to dissolve into the swirling mist, his outline blurring and fading. The smoke twisted upward, swallowing him whole, and in a heartbeat, he was gone. The silence was absolute, broken only by the distant sound of thunder. Ryan fell to his knees, staring at the empty space where Elias had been, his bravado replaced by terror.
No one could explain what had happened—security cameras only showed static during the moment of Elias’s disappearance. His family’s home was found empty, shadows clinging to the corners of every room. Some say they hear whispers when they pass the school, a low, commanding voice promising that the Dark Lord has returned, and that this time, he is just a boy waiting for his time to rise.
