Semantics of Matter - Chapter 1: Danger

Content Warning: Semantics of Matter may contain upsetting content such as violence, blood, gross bodily injuries, body horror, cosmic horror, and the worst possible horror of all, capitalism. Please read mindfully and care for your well-being.

The windows of the Lionhead Ruins’ eastern walls were thrown off their hinges, letting in the bleak sky’s light through its rusted fence bars. The blood-red moon cast a terrible tint over the ancient villa, making its peeled-paint surface appear blurred at the edges. Dead thorny plants marked spots where once, beautiful roses bloomed.

Every other day, this building would have been abandoned to rot in solitude, just another remnant of a past era in a country that had other problems to prioritize.

Tonight, footfalls cracked like gunshots within its decrepit walls. And they reeked of—

DANGER!

Victor wouldn’t have heard it if it was a spoken word. The way his heartbeat went all the way to his eardrums as he dashed through that endless manor, the way he could barely breathe after dodging certain death over and over, his ears wouldn’t have caught a thing short of a stampede if he tried.

He didn’t hear “Danger” because it wasn’t a spoken word, but a bone-deep certainty. Do or die.

DUCK!

RUN!

SIDESTEP!

A crouching dodge to the left saw a bloodied tendril miss his cheek by an inch. He sprang forward from his crouch into a sprint, and a blade merely nicked his ankle rather than slicing it off. But he was only human, and the third warning came too fast for someone with human reflexes, nerves and muscles.

“ARGH!” He gasped, cursed under his breath, held back another cuss, trembled slightly. Victor had taken worse than a bullet-like stab grazing his side, and his outburst wasn’t particularly dignified, like in the action movies; he chided himself for the uncool display even as he ran for his life. It had even been telegraphed by the strange feeling in his bones, and he still got hit.

I’m better than this...!

It was just the fear, he had to tell himself as he kept running for dear life. He was on edge, and out of breath, and this stupid corridor just kept growing longer and longer, and every room had fewer hiding spots than the one before, and the bastard just wouldn’t let u—

LEAP!

He flung himself to the right as soon as he reached a corner — and the entire corridor behind him went up in flames, only barely catching his boots mid-leap and giving them a quick scorch. If he was in pain, he couldn’t register it. He’d barely made it out alive.

He took in his surroundings: A pillar in front of him, its twin further right, and a living room’s open entrance between them, the stained-glass adorning the windows long broken down and sometimes hastily replaced by common glass panes or even cardboard rectangles. Rotting furniture. Decaying wood in some of the windows that promised a way out, only for his common sense to remind him — right, these are the Lionhead Ruins, and every single window has sturdy, rusty metal bars on the outside.

The corridor was up in flames. He could feel the heat on his sweaty brow, even through all the pins and needles. But most importantly, there were two realities he had to contend with:

That... thing... is coming.

The only way out is through the burning corridor.

And... Victor had no blasted idea how he would reconcile these realities with his survival.

Shit... haah... I’m... I’m done for. What did I get myself into? What do I-?

WHAT WOULD EDWARD DO?

He jolted back to his senses. The same bone-deep certainty that had previously saved him from danger now guided him differently, calmly but firmly, in full sentences. His trembling hand reached for his phone, and dialed one of his precious few emergency contacts.

The asshole is never going to let me live this down...

---

“You know, normally when I’m asked out, it’s not to the empanada place next to campus.”

Edward nearly sputtered, if not for the amount of - admittedly delicious - sugary bread and cheese in his mouth. He had to settle for coughing and hacking while trying to chew the damn thing, all while Catarina chuckled at his misery.

“W-Who said this was a date?!” He was pointedly not blushing at the implication, just red in the face from all the coughing. Perils of being so pale. “I just felt we needed a treat after nailing that group project. It’s cheap, but tasty stuff.”

“Hehe, that’s true.” The blonde took tiny bites of her own empanada at a time, causing her cheeks to puff up like a squirrel’s. It was frankly adorable.

“Honestly. Do you tease everyone like that all the time?” A silver lock got in the way of his eyes. Trying to blow on it only made it worse, so he resigned himself to having it in the way. Can’t fix it with hands covered in sugar.

“Only if I like them.” Now he sputtered, and Catarina had to hold onto dear life not to spit out her own bread in her laughing fit. “Okay, okay, I’ll cut it out! Hehehe!” She slowly backed away, looking at Edward’s comedic ‘I’m going to strangle you’ gestures, but it was all fun and games; it didn’t take them long to finish their 50-cent treat.

Ed stretched his arms once he was done. Any other day, his routine meeting with his friends at the Occult Club would have been the day’s highlight, and he would already be packing his things and heading there.

Yet... something gnawed at him in the back of his mind. It was like a sixth sense, telling him that there was something important he was missing. That he should take a risk and see where it goes.

“So...” Catarina paused her phone-browsing as she heard his voice again. Staring straight into her piercing blue eyes was a little intimidating, so he broke eye contact as smoothly as he could manage it. “...we did get an interesting piece of homework after the project. Have you given it any thought?”

Cat perked up at the reminder. “Oh yeah, the whole... essay about what superpower we would have if we could choose one?” She hummed in contemplation for a moment, then aimed a smile his way. “What if we already had them to begin with? Would that count?”

Bingo. He knew it. Much as today was the first time he’d actually talked to his class’ social butterfly, she’d always stood out over the rest, just like Victor, Liz and Richard themselves.

“Oh? I didn’t know I was in the presence of the paranormal.” Ed joked, eliciting a roll of the eyes from his smiling classmate.

“Shut up, vampy. I’m not the one with silver hair, red eyes-”

“Oh shut it, they’re just bloodshot.” He scoffed, all in good humor.

“-and then there’s the hairdo. Seriously, what do you do to make it so spiky?”

He deadpanned. “I dunno, sleep with my fan on?”

“If that is your bed head, you need to trade me right now.”

They had a few more chuckles at each other’s expense before calming down, and Cat decided to ask for some juice to pass the time, her treat. He chose tamarind juice, she went for cherry.

“My hair’s all natural.” He cleared the air first, while she sipped on her drink. It clearly got her attention. “My dad had a full head of silver hair by the time he was fifteen, and I got those genes too. It used to be blond before. So there, that’s my secret. Now, about that superpower?”

She nodded. Hesitantly, she pulled out a matchbox from her shirt’s breast pocket. It was a little thing, fairly standard and inexpensive. 40 matches or so. Soon enough, one of them rested between her thumb and index, with the box held in the other hand.

The match struck the box. Flame followed—a tiny, ordinary flare and the sharp scent of burning phosphorus.

“I’ve been able to do this ever since I was little,” Cat said. “I always liked the smell of matches, so I’d light a few when my family wasn’t watching, just to stare at them. I still do sometimes—when I’m watching soap operas or organizing my candle collection.”

A few seconds passed.
Nothing happened.

Edward frowned. The flame burned steady, bright, but the stick itself… hadn’t changed.

Wait. Why isn’t it burning down? It’s been nearly a minute. The match should be gone by now.

“Took you long enough.” Cat smiled, though without malice.

Edward couldn’t look away. His gaze kept flicking to the charred bit beneath the flame, hunting for the tiniest shift—some clue to explain the impossible. Nothing. No movement, no ash falling. Just that unwavering light.

Real, no-bullshit magic.

“Yep,” she said, voice light. “That’s my superpower. As long as I keep holding the match, it doesn’t burn out. It just keeps going until I let go.”

“...Huh. That’s honestly really cool.”

He forced himself to blink away, both because the brightness stung his eyes and because the sight unsettled something in him—an ache to prove he could do something just as strange. His hands searched his pockets for a penny, a coin, anything, but came up empty. Figures.

“Uh, do you have a spare coin?” he asked. “Something you don’t mind losing—I’ll show you my own little ‘superpower.’”

Her eyes narrowed, though her smile remained. “If you say that your power is stealing, I’m gonna deck you.”

It was his time to chuckle. “Haha, no, no. You’ll see.” True enough, he soon had a five-cent coin rolling between his knuckles, courtesy of Catarina’s purse. “Alright. Are you ready?”

She was ready to nod, when Edward’s ringtone cut through the moment. He pulled out his old flip-phone, which got a raised eyebrow out of Cat; the things were worth five Suns at best, so they tended to be used as burner phones.

“Victor? What’s up, you usually never ring me up yoursel-”

“Lionhead Ruins. Three red names, one mirror. Dying. Hurry.”

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

“Is everything alright?” Cat raised an eyebrow, not liking the tone of the call she just overheard.

“I...”

This was bad. Three crimson names in one mirror... did Victor truly reach a breakthrough of that caliber? But if so... he was as good as dead. He had to get there, stat. And he needed as much help as possible.

“S-Say, Cat.” She perked up, noting the struggle in his voice. Fear. “Me and a couple others are trying to make an Occult Club happen here at school, but we need one last member. You’ve got a strange party trick like all of our members, so you’ll fit right in! What do you say?”

“Oh! Yeah, of course! I’ve always been curious about that kinda stuff, so if I can find out more about this weird little power too, then-”

He didn’t feel good about interrupting her, but there was literally no time. “Oh man, that’s awesome! We’re glad to have you. What do you say we go on a little ghost-hunting adventure to celebrate?”

Her eyebrow rose again, now seeing what he was doing. “Let me guess... Lionhead Ruins, and it has something to do with mirrors and mortal danger.”

Edward had no other recourse than to shrug lamely. “…is that a yes?”