Chapter 1

  Aster's phone buzzes in his hand, the screen lighting up with the familiar dread. A notification from his bank. He’s been counting on the deposit—needs it—more than he wants to admit. With a shaky breath, he unlocks the screen.

  The account balance blinks back at him, flat, empty.

  Payment not processed.

  His stomach drops, the sensation all too familiar. But today? Today, it feels like something cracks in him. There’s been something hopeful in the back of his mind, a shred of light that maybe this time, things will be different. But as the digital message burns into his vision, that hope shrivels and dies, crushed under the weight of a curse that’s followed him since birth.

  He stands motionless on the sidewalk, watching the stream of people pass him by, their lives continuing as if his world hasn’t just shifted into oblivion again. It’s a strange thing, how the world can keep moving even when his own life has come to a screeching halt.

  "Shit," he mutters under his breath.

  It’s a steady walk to the bank, the sound of his shoes on the pavement the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. The streets feel like they’re mocking him—every step a reminder of the endless cycle of misfortune he can’t escape.

  At the bank, he stands in line, watching the other customers come and go, all of them moving like there’s something important in their lives. Something he’ll never have. Each of them has purpose, a goal, a direction. They don’t have to worry about a paycheck evaporating before they can even touch it. They don’t know what it feels like to have everything slip through their fingers with a single phone notification.

  When it’s his turn, the teller barely looks at him, too absorbed in her own quiet misery to acknowledge the man who’s already a ghost in this transaction.

  "How can I help you today?" she asks, voice flat, distracted.

  Aster sets the phone on the counter, tapping the screen so she can see the notification. "I got paid today," he says, forcing the words out. "But the payment bounced."

  She glances down at the phone, nodding like it’s a routine matter. “Let me take a look.” Her fingers move across the keyboard as if she’s memorized the motions, every movement deliberate, as though it could somehow take less time if she ignores the human being standing in front of her. After a moment, she glances back up, her eyes cool and professional. "It seems there was an issue on the company’s end. You’ll need to contact them directly."

  Of course, they say that, Aster thinks bitterly. It’s always someone else’s fault, never theirs. He doesn’t even bother to ask any more questions. It wouldn’t change anything. They can’t help him.

  “Thank you,” he mutters, turning to leave.

  Out in the streets again, the day has grown darker, the sky thickening with clouds that threaten rain. It’s been like this for the last few days, a constant overcast that seems to match the weight of his mind. Aster walks back to his boss's office with a sinking feeling, the shadows of the city pulling at him from all sides. He doesn’t know why he bothers to hope that maybe today will be different. He should have known better.

  He reaches the building, a rundown office complex that’s seen better days—like him, it’s barely holding on. The neon "OPEN" sign buzzes weakly as he approaches the door, the flickering light making his pulse race. When he tries the handle, it doesn’t budge.

  Aster knocks on the door, hoping for something—a sign, a miracle, a human being behind the glass who could help him. He knocks harder, but no answer comes.

  Frustrated, he steps back, scanning the parking lot for his boss’s car. His boss has been a flake—always late, always putting things off, promising the world and delivering nothing. But Aster has been desperate enough to believe him when he offered him a job. That was months ago. Months of hard work, late nights and constant excuses, all for this: nothing. And now?

  The office is empty.

  He turns to leave but stops when he notices a group of his coworkers standing near the back entrance, talking in low voices. Aster hesitates, unsure if he wants to hear what they’re saying. But curiosity wins out.

  “Hey,” one of them, a woman named Miriam, looks at him with a tight smile. “Did you get your check?”

  He nods slowly. “It bounced.”

  Aster’s been expecting sympathy, or at the very least, the vague acknowledgment of mutual suffering. Instead, Miriam gives a sharp laugh that seems too bitter to be real.

  "Yeah, it bounced for me too," she says, shaking her head. "No surprise though. You hear the news?"

  Aster frowns. “What news?”

  “Boss skipped town. Took all the money. Everyone’s checks are gone. We’ve all been had."

  The words hit him like a punch to the stomach. It’s bad enough to be out of a job. But to find out that the man who offered him work has stolen from everyone—including him—is almost too much to process. It’s the final kick in the gut.

  Aster’s hands clench at his sides. “That’s—unbelievable.”

  “No kidding.” Miriam's eyes are full of something between anger and disbelief. “What’s he going to do with all of it? Flee the country and live with the Guptas?" She laughs harshly.

  The weight of the world presses down on Aster at her words, heavier than the rain that’s started to lightly fall outside. He doesn’t even care about the rain anymore. It’s just one more thing.

  Without saying another word, Aster turns and leaves. He has no plans now. No leads, no money. No future.

  But he can’t help the sting of it all—the feeling that no matter how hard he tries, no matter what he does, everything is slipping through his fingers. That feeling’s been with him for as long as he can remember, like an old friend, one who never leaves and only makes things worse.

  Aster shoves his hands deep into his pockets as he walks, eyes scanning the sidewalks as though he might find something—anything—that will pull him out of the quicksand he’s sinking into.

  In his peripheral vision, something flickers—just a brief shadow, but it’s enough to make Aster’s heart race. He looks to the side, and the mist starts rolling in, thick and swirling in its unnatural hues. Aster’s pulse quickens. No. Not now. Not when he’s so close to losing his grip on his sanity.

  But the world around him keeps shifting.

  The mist creeps in, thickening, taking shape. The edges of his vision distort, as though reality itself is warping. His chest tightens. It’s happening again. He can’t stop it. He knows what’s coming, even if he doesn’t want to acknowledge it.

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  Then, suddenly, the figure appears.

  The robed man—cloaked in darkness, his face obscured except for those burning cyan eyes—materializes directly in front of him. Startled, Aster jumps back, falling out of the way, as in the split second that follows, a minibus taxi roars past him, tires screeching as it narrowly misses where he’d just been standing.

  Aster hits the ground hard, his body crashing against the wet pavement. His heart hammers in his chest, and for a moment, he lies there, breathless, eyes wide with shock.

  The angry curses of the taxi driver break Aster’s confusion. "Uhlanya! Hlupheki!" The driver curses him in Xhosa, followed by a honk and a screech of tires as he speeds off. Aster slowly pushes himself to his feet, his hands trembling. The mist is gone. The figure is gone. The rain starts to fall heavily, the cold droplets mixing with the shock still settling in his bones.

  The streetlights flicker on as day moves over to night, casting long shadows over the empty street. Aster stands there for a moment longer, trying to catch his breath, feeling the weight of the confusion settle heavily over him.

  The vision is gone. But was it really just a hallucination? Or had something else just stepped in to save him?

  _________________________________________________________________________________

  The rain turns into a downpour by the time Aster reaches his apartment. The sound of water splashing against the pavement is deafening, as if the storm itself is mocking him. His clothes cling to him, soaked through. But it isn’t the rain that weighs on him; it’s the feeling that something’s snapped inside of him. He has no job, no money, no way out of the mess his life has become, plus it seems he’s slowly starting to lose his grip on sanity. Each step feels like it takes him deeper into a pit, one that he isn’t sure he can climb out of anymore.

  As he rounds the corner to his building, he sees it before he even reaches the door.

  The rain doesn’t let up. It comes down in sheets, drenching Aster to the bone, but he can’t bring himself to move. He stands there, staring at the pile of his belongings dumped haphazardly onto the sidewalk. His belongings, now thoroughly soaked through, were a perfect reflection of his life—ruined, forgotten, unwanted. His heart feels like it’s being squeezed in a vice, and no matter how many times he tries to pull air into his lungs, it feels like he can’t get enough.

  He’d known it was coming. The eviction notice had been there for weeks, a looming threat he could do nothing about. The rent had piled up, unpaid, month after month. His landlady had given him the cold shoulder every time he tried to explain, every time he begged for more time. And now, it had come to this. Aster’s eyes moves over the mess—the clothes that were soaked through, the torn cardboard box with his few remaining belongings—and all he could do was stand there, numb.

  He didn’t care that his feet were freezing, that the cold was seeping into his bones. He didn’t care that his stomach was gnawing at him, that his last hope—whatever little there was—had just evaporated.

  What was the point?

  What’s the point?

  He stares at the ground, unable to look anywhere else. The lights from the streetlamps cast long, grim shadows, blurring in the downpour. It all feels surreal, like he isn’t even in his own body anymore. He isn’t even sure if he’s still alive or if he’s already drifted somewhere beyond the edge of the world.

  This isn’t living anymore. It hasn’t been for a long time.

  ‘How did I end up here?’

  He runs his fingers through his wet hair, the cold water mixing with the sweat on his forehead. There’s no one to blame but himself, right? He’s been given chances—so many chances—and he’s always fucked them up. Always.

  Maybe it started when his parents died. That was the first crack in his life. His family had been wealthy, successful, admired by the community. They had everything—everything, that is, until they suddenly didn’t, then the accident. It was supposed to be quick—clean. But it wasn’t. They’re gone in an instant, leaving behind a life that Aster wasn’t prepared to live without.

  Then came the adoption. He was too young to understand it at first—too small to realize that his new mother had only adopted him for the money. The state grant that came with him was worth more than any love or care she could’ve offered. She locked him in a world of secrecy, cutting him off from everything he might have had a chance at: a future, an education, a life of his own.

  Instead, he’s been forced into a life he doesn’t want, one that exists in the murky shadows of crime and desperation. His foster mother, a woman who claims she cares for him, drags him into the dark underbelly of society. Drugs, scams, extortion—it’s all part of the package. She uses him, and he lets her. Because what else is he supposed to do?

  He’s never had a choice.

  Aster shuts his eyes tightly, as if he can block out the memories that rush back. The shadows of that life still cling to him, no matter how much he wants to forget them. Every time he’s tried to get out, it feels like his bad luck follows him, dragging him back into the mess.

  Now here he is—on the street, standing in the rain, with nowhere to go. His foster mother died on his eighteenth birthday, the result of a drug deal gone wrong. Aster tried to pick up the pieces, to make something of himself, but it seems like everything he touches turns to shit. Every job he manages to get falls apart, every paycheck bounces, every promise is broken.

  And now—this. His possessions, dumped on the sidewalk. His life, scattered like refuse.

  Aster’s fingers twitch at his sides, but he doesn’t reach for anything. He doesn’t want to. There’s nothing left to reach for. No last-ditch effort. No spark of life left in him. He’s burned through every ounce of hope years ago, and now, there’s nothing but the heavy, suffocating darkness of it all.

  His mind is numb, like a distant echo of who he used to be. But the real Aster? The person who might’ve cared, who might’ve dreamed of better days? He’s gone. That person died along with his parents, back when life collapsed around him.

  When did he stop fighting? When did he give up?

  He can’t remember anymore. All he can feel is the weight of the years, pressing down on him, grinding his spirit into dust. Aster’s chest tightens, his body trembling from the cold, but it isn’t the rain that makes him shake. It’s the knowledge that nothing’s ever going to change.

  He isn’t meant to survive. It isn’t just bad luck—it’s him. Something in him broke a long time ago, and now there’s nothing left but the remnants of what had been. No future. No purpose. No reason to keep going.

  What had he been hoping for all these years? A job? A home? Friends? Love? He can’t even remember what any of that felt like anymore. All that’s left is the hunger, the exhaustion, and the endless cycle of disappointment. It’s never been enough.

  Aster can’t hold back the bitterness that bubbles up in his chest. He laughs, though it doesn’t sound anything like humor. It’s a hollow, bitter sound that comes from deep within him.

  Aster lets out a shaky breath, closing his eyes against the torrent of rain. He can hear the distant sound of traffic, the rhythm of the world continuing on without him. People going about their lives. Families eating dinner, kids playing in the park, couples laughing together. He can almost see it in his mind—those people, so full of life, of purpose. They aren’t burdened by what he is. They don’t carry the weight of a life broken from the inside out.

  And it’s in that moment—standing in the middle of the street, drenched, empty—that Aster realizes he doesn’t even know if he wants to be one of them anymore. He doesn’t know if he wants anything at all.

  For a while, he doesn’t move. He can’t. He isn’t sure if it’s the exhaustion from the past few days, the months, the years, or if something in him has just finally shattered completely. He isn’t even sure how long he’s been standing there—minutes? Hours? It doesn’t matter.

  Nothing matters.

  Aster reaches down, his fingers grazing the wet pavement as though he’s grounding himself, feeling something solid beneath him. But it doesn’t help. Nothing helps.

  The people who walked past him earlier haven’t noticed him. No one ever does. He’s just another face in the crowd, another lost soul on the streets. But that’s always been his life. Always. People pass by him like he’s nothing, and the world never stops to give him a second glance.

  Maybe, just maybe, that’s all he is—nothing.

  He’s just… nothing.

  Aster’s legs give out, and he sinks to the curb. His body shudders as the cold soaks deeper into his skin. But it isn’t the cold that makes him feel hollow. It’s the emptiness inside him, the complete and utter absence of anything to live for. He’s used to the pain, the hunger, the exhaustion. He’s become numb to all of it. But this… this is different. This is surrender.

  There’s no fight left in him.

  No future to look to.

  Nothing to hold on to.

  His eyes flutter shut, and the rain pelts down on him like it’s trying to wash away the last remnants of a life that’s already been forgotten.

  Aster doesn’t know how much longer he sits there, but when he opens his eyes again, the world hasn’t changed. It’s still raining. It’s still cold. The lights from the streetlamps still flicker, and the city around him still buzzes with the same mechanical rhythm it always has.

  But inside him, everything is still.

  And that’s enough. Because at that moment, he realizes he doesn’t care about anything anymore.

  The rain keeps coming. It doesn’t care. The world doesn’t care. And Aster doesn’t care.

  And so, he stays there, broken and empty, no longer searching for a way out, because there’s no way left to escape.