Unknown Karma

𝕬 𝕴 𝕾 𝕽 𝕬 𝕻 𝕺

The next day dawned, and as the first rays of light stretched across the room, Malachi entered, finding Kira immersed in a seemingly peaceful slumber. The boy lay nestled beneath the covers, his dark hair splayed across the pillow, features softened in repose. The room, adorned with shadows, created an atmosphere both serene and foreboding.

**Malachi:** (Muttering to himself) "Rest, my creation. A respite before the storm you shall sow."

Malachi approached Kira, his movements deliberate. He took a seat beside the bed, his gaze fixated on the young boy. The profound quietude of the room seemed to amplify the weight of their intertwined destinies.

**Malachi:** (Softly, almost fondly) "How fascinating it is to watch you dream, Kira. Dreams woven with the threads of darkness I've spun."

The contours of Malachi's face revealed a spectrum of emotions – a peculiar blend of paternal pride and the acknowledgment of the macabre transformation he had orchestrated. His son, a weapon in the guise of a sleeping child, unaware of the intricate puppetry at play.

**Malachi:** (Whispering, almost to the shadows) "In your dreams, do you see the universe bowing before you, or do you witness the chaos you're destined to unleash?"

Malachi's fingers traced the air, a subtle dance expressing the entanglement of power, control, and the eerie bond between mentor and manipulated. The silence persisted, an unspoken agreement between the mastermind and his creation.

**Malachi:** (Contemplative) "You slumber, yet your presence reverberates across galaxies. Your innocence, a façade concealing the darkness I've cultivated within."

The room, bathed in a play of muted light and shadow, echoed with a subdued symphony of breaths – the rhythmic cadence of a dormant force waiting to be unleashed.

**Malachi:** (Addressing the unseen) "What thoughts dance behind those closed eyes? Do you yearn for the power I've bestowed upon you, or does a semblance of the boy you once were flicker in your dreams?"

As the minutes ticked by, Malachi remained seated, an enigmatic figure presiding over the slumbering puppet whose strings he expertly pulled. The air hummed with an unspoken narrative, a tale of manipulation, power, and the inexorable descent into the abyss.

**Malachi:** (Rising from the chair) "Sleep, Kira, for the night is your canvas. The universe awaits the strokes of chaos you shall paint."

Malachi's piercing gaze held Kira captive as the boy stirred from his slumber. The room, still cloaked in the remnants of the night, seemed to pulsate with an energy that transcended the physical realm. Kira, momentarily disoriented, found himself met with the unwavering stare of his enigmatic mentor.

**Malachi:** (Smirking) "Awake, my creation. Did your dreams reveal the tapestry of our shared destiny?"

Kira, half-raised in a reflexive gesture of submission, hesitated before realizing Malachi's silent signal that he need not assume the posture of deference. His legs returned to the bed, and he sat, the air thick with the unspoken intricacies of their relationship.

**Malachi:** (Curious) "Tell me, Kira, what visions danced behind those crimson eyes as you wandered the realms of dreams?"

Kira's gaze flickered, caught between the residual fragments of his dreams and the reality he now inhabited. The silence lingered, an unspoken agreement between the puppet and the puppeteer, each awaiting the other's move.

**Kira:** (Finally speaking) "Darkness, Master. A canvas painted with shadows and echoes of power."

**Malachi:** (Nodding) "Power is your birthright, Kira. A force that courses through your veins, shaping the very fabric of your existence."