THE OBSERVERS

The twenty-first century.

Modern children could be worse than any adults, their actions harsher and more twisted because of the freedom they were given and their parents’ complete ignorance of what their children were actually doing. If they disliked someone, they would torment them until they grew bored. And the adults would merely smile indulgently, saying that it was just a game, that there was nothing wrong with it…

Eleven-year-old Arno was bullied in exactly the same way. For no reason. Simply because they wanted to show their strength.

Sometimes, when he could no longer endure it, he would simply run away, going wherever his feet took him… And when he returned, he would silently stand before the principal and his parents, listening to another lecture about how he was not allowed to run away from school.

Then it would happen all over again.

Arno Tivar Lennert was a thin boy with slightly curly black hair and dark brown eyes, almost black as night. There was something both mesmerizing and frightening in them, as though by looking into his eyes, he could read your thoughts and see everything you desperately wanted to hide.

The boy preferred spending time alone. He constantly locked himself in his room and could spend hours either staring out the window overlooking the city park or reading strange books—books that other children his age would not even notice.

Whenever someone occasionally tried to talk to him, Arno would merely glance at them from beneath his brows with those dark eyes and silently retreat to some lonely corner where no one would bother him.

His gloomy gaze frightened people. It irritated them. Behind his back, people whispered to his parents that they were raising a little devil, that normal children did not look at the world like that.

Even his parents, Mr. Sven Lennert and Mrs. Lotta Lennert, disliked their son. They considered him a strange child. They believed he did not belong in their normal family, and they felt no love for him—perhaps because he did not resemble them.

Seven years earlier, they had even secretly done a DNA test, hoping that perhaps there had been some mistake and the boy had been switched at the maternity ward.

You know, like in the movies.

But no.

He was their son.

Unfortunately.

Their other two children—Marie, their fifteen-year-old eldest daughter, and their seven-year-old younger son, Robbin—were the family’s favorites. Everyone adored them, indulged their every whim, and considered them the sweetest children imaginable.

That was why the fact that their family had this strange, frightening child, whom even they could not bring themselves to love, made them uncomfortable. They did not want to think of themselves as bad people.

Arno had long since stopped waiting for his parents to call him down for dinner with everyone else. Usually, he simply waited until the others had finished eating, then went downstairs for the cold leftovers.

He knew they did not like seeing his face, so it was better to eat without those contemptuous looks from his family.

But sometimes it hurt.

He was smarter than Marie, and certainly smarter than that idiot Robbin, who had been held back in kindergarten.

So why did Mom never smile at him or stroke his hair?

Why was his brother forgiven for everything while nothing was ever forgiven to him?

All his attempts, when he was little, to get his parents’ attention ended with another punishment and another disapproving look.

Once, he had found a beautiful snake in the park and brought it home as a gift for his mother. But she only screamed at him and ordered him to throw it away.

Then she left to stay with a friend for the rest of the day, saying that he was creepy and had tried to kill her.

But the snake had been rare. Didn’t people like receiving unusual gifts…?

For a long time afterward, he watched his mother walk away, unable to understand what he had done wrong.

He had searched for the most beautiful snake he could find. He had even scratched his hands while catching it.

The encyclopedia had said that encountering such a snake in the wild was incredibly lucky because they were on the verge of extinction.

His attempts to earn his parents’ love, the bullying at school, and the unbearable whispers of relatives discussing him behind his back filled him with anger.

After his cousin tore one of his books apart - a punishment for which Arno had beaten him with a stick - the boy decided to leave home for a while, just to get away from the adults.

He knew that after what had happened, his parents would probably lock him in the house for at least a month.

He packed a few sandwiches and a bottle of water into his backpack and froze as he looked at his parents’ bedroom door.

For some reason, he hoped they would call after him.

Maybe they would apologize.

Maybe they would ask him not to leave.

For a second, he imagined them crying, unable to find him, and the corners of his lips twitched into a smile.

But the thought seemed absurd, and he shook his head before hurriedly running toward the door.

Tivar boarded the first bus he saw and took a seat at the back.

He fell asleep almost immediately.

He woke when someone began shaking him, telling him to wake up.

The driver told him that the bus was going no farther and that he had to get off.

Arno stepped outside and looked around.

He was standing at the edge of a forest.

Still not fully awake, he yawned and tried to figure out where he was and where he should go next.

Before he could do anything, the driver drove away.

What was he supposed to do?

To be honest, the boy himself did not know where he had wanted to run away to.

There was not a single place in this small world where he could find shelter.

While Arno sat in the grass with his knees drawn up, lost in thought, he heard a strange sound deep within the forest.

It sounded almost like a flute melody.

Forgetting all the warnings that he should never enter the forest alone, the boy followed the beautiful sound deeper into the woods.

He pushed his way through heavy branches that mercilessly struck his face. He even fell several times, scraping his knees until they bled, but stubbornly continued following the sound.

After what felt like a very long time, he finally heard the music nearby.

A few more steps…

And Arno froze.

Before him stood an ancient castle, seemingly untouched by time.

What surprised him most was its color.

It was completely black, as dark as tar, with green ivy creeping over parts of its walls.

The air seemed to fall silent.

The sounds disappeared.

Even the birds had stopped singing.

After hesitating for a moment, Arno nevertheless walked toward it.

Inside the castle, Arno stared around with fascination and completely forgot that he had run away from home.

The rooms contained the same ancient and magnificent things as the exterior.

Then he noticed enormous doors leading into a dark room.

From within came the sound of the flute again.

The boy hesitated.

Should he go inside?

Maybe he should run away while nothing had happened yet…

But then he remembered that nobody cared about him anyway.

Not even if he died.

So Tivar decided to trust his fate.

The room was shrouded in darkness.

Only after several minutes, once his eyes had adjusted, could Arno make out the shapes of the furniture.

Against the far wall, sitting in a tall burgundy leather armchair, was a young man.

His face was hidden in shadow, while his long fingers slowly moved over the holes of a black flute, producing an astonishingly beautiful, almost otherworldly melody.

It did not seem to be merely music.

It was as though the melody itself spread through the air, filling every corner of the castle.

But the strangest thing of all was the antique clock hanging on the wall.

While the stranger played, its hands did not move.

They were frozen.

As though even time itself did not dare disturb the melody.

Arno cautiously peered from behind the half-open door, afraid even to take a deep breath.

His heart was pounding so loudly that he felt the man would hear it before he even saw him.

Noticing the uninvited guest, the man stopped playing and lifted the corners of his lips into something resembling a smile.

“Why are you here?” he asked quietly, his deep, tired voice carrying a strange weariness as he studied the boy.

“Let me guess. You ran away from home?”

“How did you know?” Arno asked in surprise, his eyebrows twitching upward.

He took an uncertain step backward, as though preparing to run.

The stranger silently nodded toward the empty wall.

The next moment, its surface was swallowed by thick black smoke that slowly began to swirl as though it were alive.

At first, there was nothing to make out within it.

But soon, the dark clouds began intertwining, forming vague silhouettes.

With every passing second, they became clearer.

Until, before Arno’s eyes, scenes from his own life came alive.

There was his mother, angrily shouting at him because he had left Robbin alone and the boy had cut himself with a kitchen knife.

Arno instinctively touched his lip, as though he could feel the pain all over again.

His father had hit him so hard that day that he had split his lower lip.

The scene changed.

Now the school bully was slamming the door of a storage closet shut, leaving him alone in complete darkness.

Arno remembered that long night among mops and old boxes, when he had been too frightened to move until morning.

The visions changed faster and faster, giving him no time to process what he was seeing.

Faces.

Shouts.

Punishments.

Mockery…

Soon, the boy’s head began to spin, and he instinctively took a step backward.

“Who… Who are you?” Arno asked fearfully, clenching his fists as he backed toward the door.

The man laughed.

He adjusted his immaculate new jacket and pointed toward the wall again.

Suddenly, scenes began appearing there that had never happened in the boy’s life.

Yet the person shown in them was unmistakably him.

“This is your future,” the man said. “Watch carefully.”

Arno saw that his life was no different from what it was now.

But something had changed.

The expression on his face had become hopeless, as though he had simply resigned himself to everything.

Unexpectedly, the images stopped.

The smoke merged into one enormous cloud before slowly beginning to dissipate.

When it finally vanished, the man broke the silence and lit his pipe.

“There is nothing beyond that. You kill yourself at eighteen.”

He paused.

“Ironic, isn’t it? Though quite predictable for someone whom this world never accepted.”

The boy felt uneasy.

His mother’s face suddenly appeared in his mind.

Would she cry at all?

The thought sent chills down his spine, and fear washed over him.

He decided to escape this strange place.

But without even turning around, the stranger stopped him with a wave of his hand.

The doors slammed shut.

“I will help you.”

With those words, he took out an amethyst bracelet and fastened it around the boy’s wrist.

“You like reading books about magic, don’t you? So you believe it exists.”

He glanced at Arno.

“There are countless things in this world that ordinary people dismiss as fairy tales and myths. They are too ignorant and too foolish to see beyond the end of their noses.”

The man’s voice remained calm.

“Magic will become your salvation. It will show you a new life.”

“You mean…” Arno could hardly believe his ears. Yet there was no way to dismiss what he had witnessed as some cheap magician’s trick. “Even if magic exists, what difference does it make? I don’t have any.”

“You would be surprised to learn who you really are.”

The stranger’s gaze darkened.

“But we will leave that secret for when you are older.”

He looked at the bracelet.

“Magic has always been with you. You simply do not know how to use it.”

His expression became distant.

“People have always hated those who were stronger than them. They sense it instinctively and fear people like us.”

The man looked at the boy with an empty gaze before raising the pipe to his lips again.

“Why do you talk as though you aren’t human?” Arno asked.

“And how is this bracelet supposed to help me? Will it give me magic? Make everyone love me?”

He laughed incredulously, thinking the stranger was making fun of him.

“The bracelet will help you control your power. However, I have placed a spell upon it. So that you do not cause chaos, you will only be able to use a limited amount of magic.”

The man calmly continued.

“You will have power over the weather. You will be able to move things. Even manipulate time.”

He paused.

“And most importantly… dreams.”

Arno stared at him.

“If you ever want to take revenge on someone, simply put them to sleep. After that, do whatever you want.”

The man’s voice became colder.

“But remember: you will not have power over people. Do not even attempt to control them.”

He tapped his pipe against the armrest.

“There are observers above us. If you try to turn humans into mindless puppets, you will pay dearly.”

A faint smile appeared on his lips.

“But you will be able to take your revenge using what you have.”

He leaned back in his chair.

“In exchange, I need only one thing…”

The stranger looked directly at him.

“Come back here when you turn eighteen and repay your debt.”

The man—whose name Arno had forgotten to ask—waved his hand again.

In the blink of an eye, the boy found himself back at the edge of the forest.

A new bus was just pulling up.

Arno quickly climbed aboard.

Better to return home before things got any worse.

The boy looked at the bracelet and tried to take it off.

But it was useless.

It seemed to be permanently attached to his skin, leaving behind an unpleasant, burning sensation.

His parents had not even looked for him.

But when he entered the house and quietly closed the door behind him, his father tore his gaze away from the television and glared at him with displeasure.

“Where the hell have you been?”

His father’s voice was cold.

“Alex told us that you attacked him for no reason, and his mother is furious.”

He paused.

“You’re not getting any dinner tonight. And for the next week, you’re forbidden from leaving your room after school.”

His father looked at him with disgust.

“After that, you’ll apologize to him and his family.”

Arno suppressed the impulse to lash out, overwhelmed by the injustice of it all.

But he knew his words meant nothing to them.

So he merely clenched his hands tighter, feeling his fingernails dig into his skin.

“As you wish,” he replied coldly before going upstairs to his room.

He threw himself onto the bed and sat upright, feeling anger, hurt, and a sense of injustice boiling inside him.

For a moment, he wondered whether he should try his new powers on his family.

But he decided to leave that for later.

The next day, Arno went to school.

He had barely reached the entrance when a group of children surrounded him, calling him names and throwing stones.

“You’d better die! Nobody needs you!” one of the boys laughed as he threw another stone at Tivar.

“What did you say?!”

Arno became furious, unable to suppress the emotions he had buried for years.

Now he was stronger than them.

They were the ones who should be afraid.

They were the ones who had forgotten their place.

He clenched his fists and glared angrily at the bully.

The boy raised his hand to strike him—

But he couldn’t.

Something invisible was holding him back.

The children stared at Arno in fear and tried to run.

They couldn’t.

They slammed into an invisible barrier.

For the first time, nobody was laughing at him.

It felt strange.

Why were they trembling now?

Maybe this was the only way they would finally understand that he had been hurt too.

Arno stood in the center, clenching his fists tighter and tighter.

At the same time, something inexplicable began happening to the weather.

A powerful whirlwind rose around them.

Dark clouds covered the sky.

Lightning struck.

Large drops of rain began rapidly falling to the ground.

Teachers rushed outside at the noise.

They tried to drag the children inside, but could not even take a single step.

Their legs simply refused to move.

The children were trapped beneath an invisible dome created by the boy.

Arno raised his eyes and smiled.

For a brief second, his eyes glowed red.

Even he did not understand what he had signed himself up for by allowing that stranger to help him.

Who was that man?

Why had he helped him?

What would his future become now…?

None of it mattered.

Not if he could take revenge on everyone who had hurt him right now.

He would deal with the consequences later.

The boy smirked and closed his eyes.

Then time began to move backward.

Back to the moment before he had revealed his power.

“Done. Now no one will ever know what happened…”

He looked down at his hands.

Only moments ago, he had wanted to kill those children, to make them pay for what they had done.

But the feeling was gone.

He had thought revenge would make him feel better.

It didn’t.

He tried to summon that rage again.

Nothing happened.

As though someone had simply switched it off.