alreaper

...something felt off. Despite the warmth of the celebration and the thoughtfulness of my friends, a strange unease settled over me. The journal in my hands, while beautiful and personal, felt like a key to something deeper. A weighty reminder that even with all the laughter and joy, there were layers beneath my ordinary life that I had yet to uncover.

I opened the journal and flipped through the blank pages, wondering what I could possibly fill it with. As I reached the last page, a folded piece of paper slipped out. It was crisp and unfamiliar, not something I would have expected in a brand-new journal. 

Curiosity piqued, I unfolded it carefully. The note was handwritten in neat, flowing script:

_"Your life is about to change. The key is within you, but you must remember who you are first. Happy birthday, Eli. You are more important than you think."_ 

A chill ran down my spine as I stared at the words. Who could have written this? How did they know I’d get this journal? The sense of unease that had been gnawing at me all day surged forward, wrapping around my chest like a vice.

Suddenly, the classroom door creaked open, and I looked up, startled. Standing in the doorway was a figure I didn't recognize—small and frail, with long, dark hair cascading down her back. Her eyes, large and sorrowful, locked onto mine with an intensity that made my breath catch.

For a moment, the world seemed to still. The air around me grew heavy, and the soft light filtering through the windows dimmed as though a shadow had fallen over the room. Her presence was haunting, almost otherworldly, as if she didn’t belong here—or maybe, as if she belonged more than anyone else.

She took a step forward, her lips parting as if to speak. And when she finally did, her voice was barely more than a whisper, but it echoed in my mind with the force of a revelation:

_"I'm sorry."_

With that, the room seemed to warp, reality blurring at the edges. Darkness crept in from the corners of my vision, swallowing the confetti, the balloons, the remnants of the party—until all that was left was the girl, the journal, and the strange, foreboding feeling that my ordinary life was about to be shattered forever. 

And then, everything went black. 

---

This is how it began: on what should have been a simple, forgettable birthday, I found myself thrust into a mystery far greater than anything I could have imagined. The note in the journal was just the first clue—a breadcrumb leading me toward something I could never have expected.

Whatever this was, whoever this girl was, one thing was certain: my world had shifted, and there was no turning back. 

I was Eli, and my story was just beginning.

Table of Eli's Otherworldly Echo

Table of contents

Volume 1