Kasu

Again, Kasu thought. More intruders.

He hovered through the cracked walls, pale light flickering through his translucent skin. His laughter was soft at first—mocking, cold, void of warmth. “Haha… what do we have here~?” he whispered as the group stumbled into the main hall.

Their faces—terrified, curious, foolish—blurred together. He’d seen thousands like them. Some cried. Some begged. Some ran. None ever left.

His laughter grew sharper, echoing off the decaying wallpaper. He floated down the staircase, his bare feet never touching the floorboards.

“Stay a while,” he sang, eyes glowing faintly blue. “It’s been so long since I had company.”

The students froze. One tried the door—it slammed shut with a shriek of rusted hinges. Another turned to a window—it blackened as if night itself had swallowed it whole.

Kasu smiled. He always smiled before the screaming began.

But then—

He saw her.

A girl among them, standing frozen, her trembling hands clutching a flashlight.
His cold chest tightened.

“...Mom?”

The word broke from him like a prayer, fragile and disbelieving.

The others began backing away, whispering, but he didn’t hear them. His pale eyes widened, filling with something that hadn’t touched him in millennia: joy.

“Mama!”

He darted toward her, a blur of light and shadow. Before she could move, his arms were around her, cold as death, yet trembling.

“I missed you! You came back! You finally came back!”

Kasu looked up at her, his eyes glowing faintly, tears of white mist trailing down his cheeks. “I waited so long… everyone else left, but I knew you’d come. You promised, remember?”

He turned his head slightly, the warmth fading from his face as he looked past her. The others met his gaze—and saw the cruelty return.