Estelle carefully laid the sleeping Eros aside, tucking the blanket around him. Looking at her son’s peaceful face, she let out a soft sigh. Her usual elegance was gone, replaced by a mask of deep-seated worry.
Duke Alaric had already told her about Eros’s growing obsession with the supernatural. This was the source of her dread. Traditionally, children were only introduced to the twisted, eerie, and malevolent truth hidden beneath the veneer of civilization after they turned eighteen.
There was a reason for the secrecy. Young minds were immature and fragile; they were far too susceptible to the "corruption" of the occult, which could lead to uncontrollable physical mutations and madness.
She knew her son was exceptionally brilliant—mature beyond his years—but that didn't stop her heart from racing. Once Eros began to gaze into the mystery, the mystery had already fixed its gaze upon him.
She whispered a truth stained by the blood of countless mages:
"When you peer into the mystery, the mystery peers back into you. When you touch the mystery, the mystery moves to embrace you."
Sighing again, she leaned down and kissed Eros’s forehead. "Forgive me, my child, for stifling your curiosity about the real world."
To protect him from corruption, she chose the only path available: she would hide his curiosity and seal away the memories of the truths he had discovered.
As she spoke, in a grand, solemn temple far away, a mysterious black tome flickered. A power from the Hidden Origin descended from the night sky, merging into the sleeping child. Eros remained oblivious, lost in the sweetness of his dreams.
The next morning, Eros was abruptly awoken by Undine yanking the blanket off him. He bolted upright to find his bratty sister holding the covers, a look of triumphant revenge on her face. Their mother, who had been sleeping beside him, was already gone.
"What are you doing, you brat?" Eros muttered, rubbing his eyes.
Undine tilted her chin up proudly. "Look at you. How old are you now, and you still need Mommy to hold you while you sleep? Embarrassing."
Eros curled his lip in disdain. "You’re just a bratty sister. What do you know?"
"Call me Sister!"
"Brat."
"Say 'Sister'! Say it!"
"Brat. Brat. Little brat."
Outside, the two maidservants heard the commotion and smiled. They entered the room; one helped Eros dress while the other prepared his washbasin. They were long accustomed to the siblings' bickering.
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Eros, by now, was thoroughly used to being waited on. This "wicked" old society had corrupted him completely. He had tried to resist at first, but the comfort was simply too alluring. He had fallen, and he had fallen hard.
Watching him, Undine boasted, "I’ve been able to dress myself for years."
"Wow, Sister Undine is so amazing. She can actually put on her own clothes," Eros deadpanned.
Undine’s face flushed a slight pink. Her previous anger vanished instantly, replaced by a smug, self-satisfied hum. The maids shared a secret smile—Lady Undine was always being led around by the nose by her younger brother.
Years passed, one after another. During this time, Eros noticed something strange. When Undine turned eighteen, she disappeared for a few days. Upon her return, she became incredibly secretive, answering his questions with nothing but a smug, mysterious grin.
Even more peculiar, the Duke had handed out generous bonuses to all the servants that week, claiming he was simply in a "good mood." Eros didn't buy it. The timing lined up perfectly with Undine’s return. He felt something was off, but the thought remained frustratingly out of reach.
Then, one day shortly after his own eighteenth birthday...
A male servant he had never seen before approached him, bowing low. "Your Highness, the Duke wishes to see you."
Eros froze. Those words were like a key turning in a long-forgotten lock.
Flashes of strange yet familiar memories surged into his mind. They were his own memories—memories he had somehow forgotten, now resurfacing with terrifying clarity. The final image in his mind was accompanied by a faint woman’s voice:
"Forgive me, my child, for stifling your curiosity..."
Eros snapped back to reality, his eyes wide. He looked up at the servant, who met his gaze with a knowing, subtle smile.
So, it’s finally time?
He finally understood. The supernatural was real, and his family wielded its power. They had used some method to suppress his memories until he reached the safe age of eighteen. Now, the seal was broken.
Without a word, Eros followed the servant. Soon, he met his father.
"Follow me," Duke Alaric said, his expression unusually grim.
Eros smirked, feeling a surge of excitement. He followed his father to the small family chapel. He knew this place well; it was dedicated to the God of Death and Reincarnation. He used to think the family’s devotion was just traditional religious theater. Now, he wasn't so sure. If magic was real, then gods were likely more than just myths.
Instead of entering the main hall, the Duke led him to the back door, winding down into the basement where old junk was stored. He stopped at the entrance.
"No matter what you see, do not scream," Alaric warned, his voice vibrating with a solemn intensity. "Keep reverence in your heart. We are entering the Hall of our Ancestors—the sanctum of a Great One."
Eros straightened his back, his expression turning grave.
The Duke walked to the stone wall at the end of the stairs. He raised his right hand and began chanting an incantation in a language Eros couldn't understand. A swirl of murky, grey light gathered in his palm. He struck the wall.
Instantly, the expensive stone turned into a void of absolute pitch-black, as if it were swallowing the light itself. Eros’s pupils shrunk as he watched his father walk directly into the darkness and vanish.
Despite the "holy shit" moment happening in his brain, Eros remembered the warning. He took a deep breath and stepped into the black wall.
Inside, he found a long, ethereal corridor. "What is this place?" he whispered.
"This is the Shadow Realm," Alaric replied without looking back. "The Shadow of the World. Our ancestors clipped a segment of the world's shadow and, through the art of Alchemy, forged it into a world of its own."
Eros opened his mouth but found no words. Clipped a shadow? The shadow of the entire world?
The Duke didn't elaborate further. He kept walking, deeper into the darkness of the corridor.