Daniel stared into the gap under the couch. His eyes started drifting into the darkness below it. It was just a shadow, but to him, it felt deep. As if he was seeing it for the first time.

  He stared for seconds. Minutes. And maybe... an hour.

  He waited until the darkness looked back. But he wasn't afraid.

  "BOO."

  Daniel jumped, tumbling off the couch and hitting the floor. The Prince was leaning over the back of the sofa, laughing.

  "Go grab us a beer, bro," the Prince said, wiping a tear of laughter from his eye.

  Daniel sighed, picking himself up from the floor. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered. "Mister Smile."

  "Hey," Sally said, walking into the room, looking at Daniel on the floor. "What is this sound?"

  "It's just your Dad," Daniel said, getting up. "Doing some pranks on me. The usual."

  She chuckled. "Haha,"

  Daniel didn't smile. “Funny. Real funny."

  Sam walked in. "Don't make a big fuss out of it, Dan."

  "'Dan'," Daniel mocked. "Nice."

  Daniel's face suddenly went serious. He pulled a paper from his pocket. "Hey. I got a report from the school. Miss 'Perfect'." Sally froze. "You got an A+ in everything,"

  "Except Math. What the heck? B-? Like... how?"

  "I-I..." Sally stammered, tearing up.

  " 'I' what, Miss?" Daniel pressed. "Your father wouldn't be proud of a ‘B’."

  She started crying. Daniel closed his eyes. ...BLINK... The Prince opened them.

  "Don't cry, sweetheart," the Prince said.

  "But Dad..." she sobbed, "he is right. I should have studied more."

  The Prince pulled her into a hug. "Shh. It's okay."

  Over Sally's shoulder, the Prince looked at the wall. Daniel was leaning there, he sighed. raising his right thumb.

  "Just as we practiced it, Prince."

  The Prince smiled. "Good job, partner."

  Arthur was sleeping, but he wasn't in his bed.

  He was dancing with the Moon. They were leaving Earth, floating up into the canvas of the universe. He looked down and saw him. His Father. The Prince was looking up at him. And he had that look. The look Arthur craved more than air.

  He saw what couldn't be seen. And maybe emotion materialize for him at some moments He saw a crown made of teeth, dripping gold onto a throne of bone.

  And other times he saw a woman in red, dancing in the rain without getting wet.

  At sometimes he could swear he saw a teen with fuzzy hair wearing a yellow hoodie.

  and other times he saw a 30 year old pushing the teen out of the spotlight.

  Suddenly, the festival was destroyed. A massive, dark root of a tree shot up from the earth, wrapping around the Moon and dragging her down into the dark.

  Arthur fell. He landed in a field of corpses. He saw the Army. The army that his Dad had killed. They were standing up. Their heads were severed, but they were still standing.

  "You..." one of them hissed, their voice echoing. "You smiled at our dead bodies."

  "And we," another whispered, "shall smile at yours."

  "No," Arthur said. "You shall not." He raised his hand. He tried to summon the Diamond Sword.

  Nothing happened.

  "You aren't your father," they laughed. "You are powerless."

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  They ran at him, piercing.

  Arthur screamed. He looked down. His stomach was open. He saw his own intestines growing, unspooling like worms out of his body. His blood flowed out, running fast, like people fleeing from a lion.

  They grabbed him. cutting his hand off.

  "Wake up, Arthur."

  His eyes snapped open. He gasped, his hand clutching his stomach. It was his mom, Marcel. "Wake up, my dear," she said gently. "You'll be late."

  Arthur stared at her. He looked at his hand. It was there. "I am awake," he whispered.

  He got up. He did the usual. And he walked to school, the feeling of the worms still in his gut.

  After school, he returned home. He talked with Miss Moon briefly, then slept. He got back. To the dark place.

  "What if we swap places?" The Prince said, looking down at him.

  "What?"

  "What if you were the one who had the sword?" The Prince's voice echoed in the darkness. "Would you be able to protect?"

  "I... I don't know."

  "Filth." And the Prince walked away into the darkness.

  Arthur ran after him. "Wait!" But an arm grabbed him. He looked. "Samly?"

  "Do you see what I see?"

  "Mom..."

  "I gave up everything for you," she hissed. "But in the end... you were a worm."

  "I AM NOT!" Arthur screamed.

  "Then do," she commanded.

  "Then prove it."

  Arthur's eyes snapped open. He was in his bed. Sweat dripped down his face. He could feel it. The pressure in his blood. "It's getting stronger," he whispered to the empty room. "My powers. My will...”

  "You won't."

  A voice echoed. Not in his head. But in the room.

  He looked around. There was no one there.

  Friday came. But Arthur didn't. but a corpse looking like Arthur.

  He walked into the apartment.

  "Are you good?" The Prince asked, setting up the board.

  "I am good." They started playing. "Your style is different," The Prince noted. "It's more... what is the word... survival."

  "I change styles so you can't predict me."

  The Prince smiled. "That is a good lie."

  They continued. It was 50/50. Until Arthur looked up at his father's face.

  He wasn't there. The apartment wasn't there. Arthur was back in the Darkness.

  "You shall be who?" the Voice boomed. "Your son," Arthur whispered. The Voice chuckled. "My son wins. You... don't." Arthur looked down at the black floor. "Then... what should I do?"

  The Shadow Prince stood up. "Give me your will.” The silence grew.

  The word "Yes" grew in Arthur's throat. But it didn't come out.

  "No," Arthur said, his voice shaking. "I will not give you, my will."

  "Then," the Shadow said, "you shall be given nothing."

  Arthur snapped back to reality. He returned to the chess table.

  Arthur sacrificed his Knight to save the Queen. His hand hovered over the Rook, trembling. He saw a path—a brilliant, three-step checkmate. He moved. The Prince didn't even blink. He slid his Bishop diagonally. 'Checkmate,' the Prince whispered.

  "Real close this time, kid," The Prince said, standing up and smiling. He offered his hand. "Good game."

  Arthur took the hand. "Thanks... Father."

  The word hung in the air. "Father?"

  Arthur's eyes widened. "Yeah," Arthur said, forcing a laugh. "You... you really look like my father."

  The Prince studied him for a second. Then he smiled. "Well. I'd like to meet your father one day."

  He didn't leave. He ate dinner with them. He sat at the table with Sam, Sally, and Maryal. He ate the food. He listened to their jokes.

  He got back home and he went and set with his brother’s.

  “Yo Arthur lost or something.” Peter said.

  “maybe.” Arthur replied.

  “or maybe that girl finally gave up on him.” Mark said.

  “What girl?” Joseph raised an eye brow.

  “you know that girl.” Mark said

  “The neighbor’s girl, damn that girl is fire.” John said.

  “yeah, but your brother is always acting so tough on the girl, like dude she is already waiting for your signal.” Mark said

  “Yeah but she didn’t look at both of your faces and looked at him so I think that tells you a lot about how you both look.” Peter said while sitting on the couch.

  Arthur smiled, “And yeah it’s not about her.”

  “Then what is it mister dramatic?” Joseph said.

  “And look who’s talking, bro I heard you last night crying about that girl in your school since she rejected you.” Mark replied.

  Peter snorted into his drink. Mark threw a pillow that hit Joseph square in the face. Even John cracked a smile, shaking his head. Joseph turned bright red, muttering curses under his breath.c

  “Nah for real what is it, Arthur.” Peter said

  “I lost the game.” Arhtur said.

  “Yeah and that’s the usual I lost and well… you lose. “Peter said.

  “Damn. That guy must be a genius if he cooked the two smartest brains in this family.” Joseph said.

  “Something like that I saw him in school when he came for that damn statue, that dude looks like a mafia leader or something.” Mark said.

  “But he looks super goofy with those gold tips of his hair.” John said

  “Not gonna lie it has a bit of style in it.” Joseph said.

  They continued their conversation and Arthur did the usual and escaped to his room.

  And back in his room. Darkness swallowed him. But he got to his bed and slept. Escaping from one darkness... into another.

  The darkness wasn't empty this time. It had a shape. "Why do you resist?" the Shadow asked. "Why do you survive?"

  The voice echoed, and the Shadow became matter. It condensed into a figure that could be seen, looming over him.

  "I won't give you my free will," Arthur whispered.

  The Shadow leaned in. "Why do you breathe? Your father doesn't even know you are alive."

  Arthur shouted into the void. "I was given this free will! Not you!"

  "But you don't use it properly," the Shadow sneered.

  "My father sealed you!" Arthur yelled. "He locked you away!"

  The Shadow laughed. A low, grinding sound. "No. He didn't. I asked him to do this."

  The Shadow reached out. Its hand—cold, heavy, made of pure pressure—climbed onto Arthur's face, covering his eyes.

  "Look at my eyes," it whispered. "And give me the Gift."

  "No."

  "Then... it shall be taken from you."

  Arthur woke up, gasping. His heart was hammering against his ribs. He touched his chest. He could feel it. It wasn't just a nightmare. It was growing.

  He couldn't look in mirrors anymore. If he stared too long, his reflection didn't blink when he did. In his peripheral vision, the corners of the room seemed to stretch, breathing like a lung. A cold weight settled on his shoulders, heavy and suffocating, like wearing a coat made of lead.

  He tried walking past him. He tried walking through him. It didn't work.

  It was always there. An extra eye, watching. An extra eye, analyzing.

  But the others... they didn't see it. So, he had to act.

  The smoke became his drug. Not for the nicotine. For the escape. Because the smoke looked white.

  And even a death covered in white... Was better than living in the darkness.

  "I could give you what you want," the Shadow hissed. Its voice was oil and smoke.

  "And what," Arthur asked, his voice steady, "do I want?"

  The Shadow was silenced.

  "You aren't me," Arthur whispered. "You just want to take my gift. Don't you?"

  "You have always waited for power," the Shadow growled. "What makes you now reject it?"

  "This isn't the power I wanted," Arthur said. "My father's power... he killed for the good. But you? You won't."

  The Shadow loomed closer. "I am the power that your father has."

  Arthur didn't flinch. "Then tell me... what makes him different?"

  The Shadow stopped. the darkness recoiled. It shrank back into the corners of the mind.

  Arthur woke up, gasping. He looked around the room. The Shadow was no more. For the first time... he was alone.

  Friday wasn't just a chess game. It was a survival game.

  For everyone else, it was an interesting match at best. But for Arthur... it was redemption.

  But it had a cost. The Shadow has been gone for two days But seeing his father's face... that made the Shadow appear and maybe it was stronger.

  But Arthur wasn't waiting to be eaten.

  "I will give you the power you wanted," the Shadow hissed. "I will make you the Emperor of the Glass World."

  "So that means..." Arthur whispered, "to kill my father?"

  "He has lived for too long. It is time for us to rule."

  The Shadow loomed closer, a tower of darkness.

  "Your father killed his dad to be the King. And so... you will do the same."

  "Us?"

  "Yes. Us."

  "Who is 'us'?" Arthur stepped forward. "And who made you the one to choose?"

  "I am the one who has the final word in this body."

  "And if you won't give me my powers..."

  "Then I shall take them."

  He punched the Shadow.

  After the game he went to his home, But he was back with a draw this time and so he hadn’t to deal with his brother’s roasting.

  He went straight to his room, changing his clothes but while he did that he saw himself in the mirror and the shadow wasn’t lurking over him.

  He raised it. He pointed at the mirror on the wall.

  It moved.

  Not much. Just a shiver.

  Ghouls. The choice is yours.

  me cry. But remember—it is just a story.

  go do some pushups.