The days following Elias's confrontation with Jonas and Marie passed in a haze. The library had become their prison and sanctuary, its dim lighting and quiet corridors the perfect backdrop to the team's unraveling resolve. The air was thick with unspoken tension, and the weight of Malakarath's name lingered like an invisible specter hanging over every conversation.
Elias sat hunched over a desk piled high with notes, scrolls, and printouts of the symbols from the tomb. His fingers moved methodically across the pages, but his focus wavered. The serene and commanding vision of Malakarath still haunted his mind. Its words echoed, soft and persuasive, tugging at the edges of his consciousness.
He rubbed his temples, trying to shake the growing sense of unease that clung to him like a shadow. Then, just at the periphery of his vision, he saw a flicker of movement: a dark figure slipping silently through the corner of the room.
He snapped his head up, his heart pounding, but the space was empty. Only the faint hum of the overhead lights and the shuffle of Marie's papers broke the stillness.
"Did you see that?" he asked, his voice taut.
Marie glanced up from her laptop, her brows knitting in confusion. "See what?"
Elias hesitated, scanning the room again. "Nothing. It's… nothing."
Marie frowned but didn't press him. She had grown used to his distractions, the way he often drifted into his own world, lost in thoughts she could only guess at. But something about his tone unsettled her.
That night, Elias stayed late in the study room, unable to sleep. His mind was restless, racing with fragments of translations and the lingering remnants of Malakarath's promises. He poured over the scrolls and notes, searching for anything that might clarify the visions that had haunted him.
The room was eerily quiet, with the only sounds being the scratch of his pen and the occasional creak of the old building settling. But as the hours passed, the silence began to feel oppressive, pressing against him like a physical weight.
Then it happened again.
Out of the corner of his eye, a shadow moved—quick, deliberate. He froze, his pen hovering above the page, his breath caught in his throat. Slowly, he turned his head, but there was nothing there—just the empty rows of desks and the faint glow of the exit sign.
His heart thudded against his ribs as he stared into the room's dark corners. The shadows seemed deeper, darker, as though they were watching him, waiting for him to let his guard down.
"You're imagining things," he muttered, forcing his focus back to the scroll before him. But the words felt hollow, even to him.
The sensation didn't leave. Every time he looked away, he could feel something beyond his vision, a presence that shouldn't have been there. His hands trembled as he tried to ignore it, but the feeling grew stronger, more insistent.
The following day, Marie found Elias slumped over the desk in the study room, with dark circles under his eyes. He had clearly spent the night there, and his sight made her stomach tense with worry.
"Elias," she said softly, shaking his shoulder. "What are you doing to yourself?"
He stirred, blinking blearily up at her. "I was… working. Couldn't sleep."
Marie frowned, pulling out a chair and sitting across from him. "This isn't healthy. You're pushing yourself too hard."
Elias rubbed his eyes, his exhaustion evident. "I'm fine. I just—" He stopped, hesitating as he considered telling her about the shadows.
Marie's gaze sharpened. "Just what?"
Elias sighed, leaning back in his chair. "It's nothing. I thought I saw something last night, but it was probably just my mind playing tricks on me."
Marie's expression darkened. "What did you see?"
Elias shrugged, avoiding her eyes. "Shadows. Figures in the corners of the room. It wasn't real."
Marie's concern deepened, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Elias, what if it was real? What if Malakarath is trying to reach you again?"
He shook his head, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "We broke the bond, Marie. It can't get to me. I'm just tired. That's all."
Marie didn't look convinced. She reached across the table, her hand resting on his. "Elias, please listen to me. We don't know how strong Malakarath's influence is. If it's still connected to you, even in the smallest way, it could be trying to pull you back in."
Elias pulled his hand away, his jaw tightening. "I'm fine, Marie. I can handle this."
Marie's eyes filled with worry, but she didn't push further. She could see the stubborn set of his jaw, the way he shut himself off when he felt cornered. But her unease lingered, gnawing at her as she watched him retreat further into himself.
As the days passed, the shadows became harder to ignore. They moved more frequently, always out of sight, their presence a constant, gnawing reminder that Elias was never truly alone. At first, he convinced himself it was stress, a trick of his overworked mind. But the longer it went on, the more certain he became that the shadows weren't just figments of his imagination.
One night, as he worked late once again, he felt cold fingers brushing against the back of his neck. He spun around, his chair scraping against the floor, but the room was empty.
"Who's there?" he called out, his voice trembling.
There was no response, but the air felt heavier, colder, as though something unseen was pressing against him. His breathing quickened as he scanned the room, his eyes darting to every corner, every shadow.
The whispers began—soft, almost imperceptible, like the rustling of leaves in the wind. But they carried the faint cadence of a voice he recognized all too well.
"Elias," it murmured, the sound sending a shiver down his spine.
He clutched the edge of the desk, his knuckles white as he fought to steady himself. "You're not real," he muttered through clenched teeth. "You can't get to me."
But the whispers didn't stop. They grew louder, more insistent, filling the room with a sound that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.
"Elias…"
He covered his ears, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to block it out. "Leave me alone!" he shouted, his voice breaking.
When he opened his eyes, the room was still. The whispers were gone, and the shadows had returned to their corners. But the feeling of being watched remained a constant, oppressive weight that refused to lift.
The next morning, Marie found him in the study room again, his face pale and drawn. At first, she said nothing; she just sat across from him and waited for him to speak.
Finally, Elias looked up, his eyes filled with exhaustion and fear. "It's happening again," he admitted, his voice barely audible. "The shadows, the whispers… they're back."
Marie's heart sank. "Elias, you have to let us help you. You can't keep going through this alone."
Elias shook his head, his hands trembling. "I don't know if anyone can help me, Marie. It's like Malakarath is still there, still reaching for me. And the more I try to ignore it, the stronger it gets."
Marie reached out, gripping his hands tightly. "Then we need to find a way to stop it for good. We'll go through the scrolls, the texts, everything we've gathered. There has to be something we missed—some way to sever its hold completely."
Elias nodded, though a part of him doubted they would ever truly escape Malakarath's influence. The Sleeper's presence was like a shadow etched into his soul, an indelible mark that refused to fade.
But as he met Marie's determined gaze, he felt a flicker of hope. They had faced impossible odds before, and they had survived. If there was a way to break free, they would find it.
Even if it meant facing Malakarath again.