The stairs creaked as I made my way down, and the dark followed me. It was late, and I had just fallen asleep when there was a knock on the door. At first, I ignored it, thinking I was imagining things. Just sleep-deprived. But it was insistent, and I figured I might as well check.

“Hello?” I called out as I opened the door, my voice swallowed by the fog outside. I couldn’t see anyone, just the outline of a figure. Instinct urged me to close the door, but before I could, a hand shot out and stopped it from shutting.

“Hello?” a voice echoed.

I leaned forward, squinting, trying to make out a face but couldn’t. “Is everything alright?” I asked. Before I got a response, lightning split the sky.

“You know what?” I said quickly, too politely. “It looks like it’s going to rain. You’d better come inside.”

The figure didn’t answer, just stepped through the door, bringing the cold with him. My hand fumbled for the light switch. Nothing. Of course, the power was out.

“Let me grab a lantern.” I said and hurried into the kitchen, cursing under my breath.

I found the lantern and flicked it on, then returned to the living room. The man stood there, motionless, like he’d been waiting for me for a long time.

The light revealed him fully now. Buzzed blonde hair, pale skin, and brown eyes that seemed both too young and too old. Something was familiar.

“How’d you end up all the way out here?” I broke the silence. My house wasn’t the kind of place you’d end up at by accident. I was far away from anything and everyone.

He didn’t answer right away. Then, he whispered: “Creator.”

I blinked. “What?”

Then realization hit me. I stepped back, the lantern’s light flickering. He wasn’t a stranger at all. No. He was _him_. Sāvyər.

“You—” I stammered, but before I could finish, he moved. Fast. A blur of motion, then a sharp pain exploded in my stomach. My hands flew to the wound, blood already seeping through my fingers.

“Fifteen days.” His voice trembled. “Fifteen days you left me. In the middle of a battle, in the middle of fight. Do you know what I’ve had to do?”

I couldn’t speak. My mouth opened, but nothing came out. The pain was spreading, and I could feel the blood pooling around my feet.

“Why did you stop writing?” His anger slipped into desperation. “You left me there. Were you ever coming back?”

“I didn’t know what to do next.” I gasped. “I—didn’t know.”

His face softened, just for a second. His eyes darted to the blood, to the knife in his hand. He looked horrified, like a child who’d knocked over a vase.

“Oh no.” He whispered. “No, no, no…”

He dropped the knife and rushed forward, pressing his hand against mine, trying to undo what was done. “No!” He pleaded. “I didn’t mean—”

I grabbed his wrist, pulling him closer. His eyes met mine. “It’s okay.” I said, “It’s okay.”

He fell into my arms and I held him tightly. Then, without a word, I grabbed the knife from him and stabbed him in his side.

His eyes widened, but there was no anger in them now. Only understanding. He nodded.

“The creator kills the creation.” I whispered into his ear, twisting the blade. “Not the other way around.”

Sāvyər’s body sagged, his face draining of color as the life bled out of him. I eased him to the floor, laying him down gently, then stood there, the knife still in my hand, staring at him.

_Maybe I’ll bring him back_, I thought. _Maybe_.

But for now, this was only the beginning. Others would come. They always do.