The king of everything

Chapter ten- A mother's warning

The ringing of my phone cut through the quiet of the dorm room, jarring me out of the fog I'd been in for days. I glanced at the screen—*Mom*. My chest tightened. I hadn't talked to her much since I'd left for university. With everything that had been happening, I couldn't bring myself to call home, not wanting to burden her with my problems. But there she was, calling now.

I hesitated for a moment, then answered.

"Hey, Mom."

"Aaron?" Her voice sounded off, shaky, almost like she had been crying. My stomach clenched.

"Yeah, it's me. What's wrong?"

There was a pause, and in that silence, I could feel the weight of whatever she was about to say. Finally, she spoke, her words slow, deliberate.

"I had a dream about you."

A dream. I breathed a sigh of relief. I had been expecting worse. "A dream? What kind of dream?"

"A nightmare." Her voice faltered, and I could hear her take a deep breath on the other end of the line. "Aaron, it felt so real. I woke up in a cold sweat, and I couldn't shake the feeling that something is terribly wrong."

The relief I had felt moments ago vanished, replaced by an icy dread that settled in the pit of my stomach. The memory of the demon's red eyes, its cold voice, flooded back into my mind.

"What... what happened in the dream?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady, though my hands had begun to tremble.

"It was dark," she began, her voice cracking slightly. "I saw you, but you weren't yourself. You were surrounded by shadows, and there was this... presence around you. I couldn't see it clearly, but I could feel it. It was evil, Aaron. It was trying to pull you into the darkness. You were struggling, but it was like you couldn't see what was happening. You were lost, and I couldn't reach you."

Her words sent a chill through me. She couldn't possibly know. There was no way. But the way she described it—the darkness, the feeling of being pulled in—it was exactly what I had been experiencing.

"Aaron," she continued, her voice urgent, "I don't know what's happening in your life right now, but you need to be careful. Something's wrong, and I don't think it's just a nightmare. I think it's a warning."

I sat down on the edge of my bed, the phone pressed tightly to my ear. My heart pounded in my chest, and I felt like the walls of the dorm were closing in on me.

"A warning?" I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes." She hesitated for a moment, and I could tell she was trying to find the right words. "Aaron, you haven't been... pulling away from God, have you?"

I froze. The question hit harder than I expected, because deep down, I knew the answer. Ever since I'd started university, everything had felt distant—my faith, my sense of who I was. I hadn't even realized how much I'd been drifting until now.

"I..." I couldn't find the words. How could I explain what had been happening? The demon. The fear. The overwhelming feeling that something far beyond my understanding was at play.

My mom's voice broke through my thoughts, soft but firm. "Aaron, listen to me. I don't know what's going on in your life, but I need you to promise me something."

"Anything," I said, my voice thick with emotion.

"Don't desert God. Not now. Not ever. I know university is full of challenges and distractions, and I know it's easy to lose your way. But you need to hold on to your faith. Whatever it is you're facing, you can't do it alone. You need God now more than ever."

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. I had been so wrapped up in the fear and the confusion that I hadn't even thought about turning to God. I had been trying to handle everything on my own, and I was losing myself in the process.

"I'm scared, Mom," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper.

"I know, sweetheart," she said, her voice full of understanding. "But you don't have to be. You're not alone in this. You never are. Whatever darkness is surrounding you, it can't stand against God. But you have to let Him in. You have to ask for His help."

I closed my eyes, the weight of everything crashing down on me. The demon's words, its presence, had shaken me to my core. I had been questioning everything—my strength, my sanity, even my faith. And now, my mom was telling me exactly what I had been avoiding: that I needed to turn back to God.

"I don't know if I can do this," I whispered.

"You can," she said, her voice filled with the quiet confidence I had always relied on. "You've always been strong, Aaron, even when you didn't feel like it. But true strength comes from knowing when to ask for help. God is there for you. He always has been. Just pray, Aaron. Ask Him for guidance. He will show you the way."

I nodded, though she couldn't see me. Tears burned in my eyes, and I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Okay, Mom. I'll try."

"Promise me," she said, her voice soft but insistent. "Promise me you won't turn away from Him."

"I promise," I said, my voice steady, though the fear still lingered at the edges of my mind.

There was a pause, and I could hear the relief in her sigh. "Thank you, sweetheart. I'll keep praying for you. I love you."

"I love you too, Mom," I said, my voice thick with emotion.

When I hung up, I sat there in the quiet dorm room, her words echoing in my mind. *Don't desert God.* I looked around the room, half-expecting to see the demon lurking in the shadows, but the room was empty, quiet, as if it had never been there.

But I knew better. It was still out there, waiting. And it wouldn't stop until it had me.

I sat on the edge of my bed for a long time, staring at the floor, trying to make sense of everything. My mom's warning, the demon's presence, the feeling that my soul was being pulled in different directions.

Finally, after what felt like hours, I got up and knelt by my bed, folding my hands together. It had been a long time since I'd prayed—too long. But now, in the stillness of the room, with fear gnawing at the edges of my mind, I knew I had no choice.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. "God," I whispered, my voice trembling, "I don't know what's happening, and I don't know how to fight this. But I need Your help. Please... guide me."

For the first time in days, the weight on my chest lifted, if only slightly. It wasn't much, but it was enough to remind me that I wasn't alone in this fight.

Not anymore.