Kyle was never meant to belong. He was adopted into a wealthy family whose mansion felt more like a museum than a home. Everything was expensive, quiet, and cold. His new parents tolerated him, their guests ignored him, and the walls seemed to watch him more than welcome him. Everyone hated him. Everyone except Carl. Carl, their biological son, was the only one who treated Kyle like family. He snuck him food, taught him how to defend himself, and spent nights talking about escaping the mansion someday. To Carl, Kyle wasn’t a burden — he was a brother. And for the first time, Kyle felt safe. That safety didn’t last. One night, intruders broke into the mansion. The alarms never sounded. The guards never arrived. In the chaos, Carl was killed trying to protect Kyle. Something inside Kyle shattered. Using everything Carl had taught him, Kyle fought back. The intruders didn’t leave alive — but victory felt hollow. When the silence returned, Carl was still gone. Kyle was alone again. Grief turned into rage. Rage turned into something darker. The pain twisted, pooling inside him until it began to take shape — a black corruption born from misery, loss, and an endless hunger for revenge. The mansion faded. The world faded. Now bound to the realm, Kyle walks with half his body consumed by that darkness — a manifestation of everything he never got to say, and everyone he never got to be. The infection is not a disease. It is his pain. And it whispers to him that no one should ever be taken away again.
