"…So now—"
"—you're going to use your power on me?"
There was something almost mocking in the way he said it.
As if this—
this sudden display of strength, this breaking point—
was nothing more than a childish move to him.
Silas raised his hand toward the wall—
and held it there.
Invisible force tightened in the air, gripping Ashir, pinning him against the wall as if the very space around him had turned solid. He hung there—suspended—not by ropes, not by chains, but by something far more unsettling.
Silas had heard enough.
Every ounce of his focus—his mind, his gaze, the tension in his body, the steadiness of his raised hand—was locked onto one thing: keeping Ashir exactly where he was.
Slowly, deliberately, Silas swung his legs over the side of the bed.
His feet touched the floor.
He stood.
And then—
he began to walk forward.
The air in the room shifted.
It grew heavier.
Denser.
As if the silence itself had weight now, pressing down on everything, swallowing even the smallest sound.
Ashir watched him.
Carefully.
Seriously.
But he didn't resist.
He didn't struggle, didn't try to break free, didn't call for help.
Nothing.
He simply… observed.
As if this, too, was something he wanted to understand.
Step by step, Silas closed the distance—
until he stopped.
A few feet away from the wall.
Ashir remained suspended slightly above him, pinned against it, just out of reach.
Silas's hand was still raised.
Then—
slowly—
he lifted it higher.
And with that single motion, Ashir's body slid upward along the wall.
The unseen force dragged him higher, inch by inch, his back brushing against the surface as though gravity itself had been rewritten.
Up…
until Silas stopped.
And held him there.
A pause.
A breath.
Then Silas spoke.
"Don't ever think… I can't do anything."
His voice was calm—
but it carried something deeper now. Something that had been building, waiting, finally breaking through the surface.
For a brief moment—
there was silence.
And then—
"What—"
A faint sound escaped Ashir.
"Pft… pff—"
And suddenly—
laughter.
It spilled into the room, sharp, unrestrained, echoing against the walls in a way that felt almost out of place in the suffocating tension.
"Aish—" he exhaled between laughs, his voice uneven with amusement, "I was almost about to tear up."
The laughter didn't fade immediately. It lingered, filling the room, clashing violently with the heaviness Silas had created.
"Stop playing."
Ashir's tone shifted—not fearful, not shaken—just dismissive.
To him…
this wasn't power.
This wasn't a threat.
It was a game.
A childish display.
There was no fear on his face.
Not even a trace.
If it had been anyone else—
they would have broken by now. Fallen to their knees, begged, obeyed without question.
But Ashir?
Even suspended in the air, even at Silas's mercy—
he stood untouchable in his own mind.
As if control had never left him.
As if this moment—
still belonged to him.
Silas knew.
He knew that a power like this—something undefined, something raw—wouldn't be enough to make someone like Ashir afraid.
And yet…
he used it anyway.
Maybe not to scare him—
but to prove something.
To himself.
Ashir might have found it childish.
Might have laughed at it.
But Silas…
Silas wasn't done.
Not yet.
He pushed harder.
His focus sharpened, his mind tightening like a coil pulled too far. The invisible grip he held tightened with it—his raised hand stiffening, his fingers growing rigid, cold… almost like ice.
It felt as if they would only loosen—only melt—if he stopped.
If he let go.
But he didn't.
Instead, he forced more strength into it.
His gaze intensified, his eyes straining, a faint tremor running through them as the pressure built.
This time—
Ashir didn't move upward.
He stayed exactly where he was.
Suspended.
Held in place.
But now—
the effect was different.
Ashir's face began to change.
A faint redness crept across his skin. His lips dried, his breathing strained—subtle at first, then sharper.
And yet—
he still didn't fight back.
Didn't resist.
Didn't struggle.
He simply allowed it to happen.
As if enduring it… was a choice.
As if even now, he refused to give Silas the satisfaction of seeing him break.
But the pressure kept increasing.
Silas's power grew heavier—
stronger—
until it felt like something unseen had wrapped tightly around Ashir's throat, squeezing, cutting off his air, crushing him slowly.
The room seemed to close in.
The air itself felt suffocating.
And Silas—
Silas wasn't entirely there anymore.
It was as if something had taken hold of him.
Something darker.
Something uncontrolled.
Like a presence rising from within, pushing him further, urging him not to stop—
to go deeper.
Harder.
Until—
a sound.
A sharp ringing.
It pierced through everything.
High-pitched.
Sudden.
It filled Silas's ears, growing louder—louder—until it drowned out all thought.
His focus shattered.
His strength faltered.
And in the very next second—
his body gave out.
He collapsed.
His knees hit the cold floor first, then the rest of him followed, the impact echoing faintly in the silent room.
At the same time—
the force vanished.
And Ashir dropped.
Hard.
His body hit the floor with a solid thud, the restraint gone as suddenly as it had come.
For a moment—
neither of them moved.
Then—
coughing.
Rough. Sharp.
Ashir dragged in air, his chest rising unevenly as he fought to steady his breathing. His eyes were slightly wet, his body weakened—not broken, but shaken enough to show the toll it had taken.
He pushed himself up, slowly, with effort.
But Silas—
Silas didn't rise.
He remained where he had fallen.
On his knees.
Head lowered.
Breathing heavily—deep, uneven breaths, as if each one had to be pulled from somewhere far deeper than his lungs.
The room returned to silence.
Ashir stood where he was.
Steady.
Unafraid.
Then—without hesitation, without even considering the possibility that Silas might strike again—he stepped forward.
Toward him.
The room had fallen completely silent now.
No voices.
No movement.
Only the sound of breathing—uneven, heavy, filling the space between them.
Slowly…
Silas lifted his head.
And the moment Ashir saw his face—
he flinched.
Just for a second.
Barely noticeable.
But it was there.
From Silas's right eye, a thin line of blood trailed downward, slipping past his skin and falling in small, quiet drops onto the floor below.
It wasn't just injury—
it felt… wrong.
Unnatural.
Something Ashir had never seen before.
"Are you happy now…?"
Silas's voice came out soft. Low. Almost fragile.
"…seeing me like this?"
For a moment, Ashir said nothing.
His expression—whatever had shifted in that brief second—hardened again, turning cold, unreadable.
But inside—
something didn't add up.
This wasn't part of anything he had planned.
This wasn't normal.
And for the first time—
he didn't fully understand what he was looking at.
Without responding, Ashir turned away.
Just like that.
As if cutting the moment off before it could mean anything.
He faced the door and began to walk.
Leaving Silas there.
Broken.
Alone.
Reaching the door, he pushed it open—
ready to step out—
but stopped.
Someone was standing there.
Right in front of him.
Ashir's movement halted instantly.
"Who are you?"
The boy outside asked, his voice cautious but firm.
at the sound of another voice—
Silas moved again.
His hand trembled—uncontrollably—as he slowly raised it toward his face.
With visible effort, he wiped the blood from beneath his eye, smearing it away as if trying to erase any sign of what had just happened.
But the shaking didn't stop.
At the boy's words, Ashir gave no response.
Not a single glance back.
He simply turned and walked away—quietly, steadily—disappearing down the corridor as if the entire scene held no further importance for him.
The boy at the door stood frozen for a moment, confused by that calm departure. There was something unsettling about the way Ashir left… but he didn't have time to think about it.
Because inside the room—
Silas was still there.
Hurriedly, the boy stepped in.
The moment he saw Silas's condition properly, panic set in. He rushed forward immediately, dropping to his side.
"Are you alright? Why did you even get out of bed?" he asked quickly, his voice tense with concern.
Silas tried to respond.
Tried to move.
Tried to push himself up.
But before he could—
a sharp sound echoed inside his head again.
That same piercing, unbearable sensation.
It hit him suddenly, like something tearing through his senses.
His strength drained in an instant.
His body faltered.
And he collapsed back down.
The boy reacted instantly, catching him before he could fall completely.
"I've got you—stay still," he said urgently, tightening his grip to support him.
But Silas wasn't fully there anymore.
His vision began to blur.
The boy's face in front of him—once clear—started to fade at the edges, as if swallowed by mist.
The light in the room dimmed in his perception.
Darkness crept in slowly, creeping into the corners of his sight.
The voice speaking to him became distant… distorted… like it was coming from underwater.
He tried to focus.
Tried to hold on.
But everything was slipping away.
The last thing he could register was the boy's worried expression—unclear, fragmented, fading.
And then—
his eyes closed.
Silence took over completely.
Silas lost consciousness.
To Be Continued.....