Lena's eyes fluttered shut, the weight of exhaustion pulling her under. But what she awoke to was not the comforting embrace of sleep, but the unsettling tug of something far darker.
She was beneath something again—held captive, trapped—but this time, it felt different. The pressure wasn't solid, as if the earth beneath her had turned into something fluid, shifting beneath her skin, an elusive force that crept through her, unfamiliar and unsettling. There was no stone, no cage—just an invisible weight pressing against her, twisting and contorting her with an unnatural ease.
A strange, echoing touch danced beneath her skin, like a whispering current, leaving trails of heat and cold in its wake. It was as if her body was alive in a way it never had been, her veins humming with an electric pulse, each heartbeat stoking the fire that was rapidly growing within her.
Her breath quickened, chest rising and falling as the pressure inside her built, rising and falling like a storm trapped inside her ribs. The world around her was still—motionless, frozen in time. But inside, she burned, a live wire igniting from the inside out. Every nerve screamed with restlessness, pulling her, pushing her into something she couldn't name.
Her eyes snapped open.
But when she did, the world didn't return to its familiar surroundings. It didn't shift back into place. The world stood still. Frozen. The only movement was the fire that raged beneath her skin, completely at odds with the eerie stillness of her surroundings. It was as though the entire world had been locked in time, but the storm inside her had no regard for it. Every nerve was alive, burning with an insatiable fire. And yet, the world outside remained deathly quiet, as if it too had succumbed to some frozen fate.
Her breath hitched as her hand instinctively went to her chest, feeling the heat beneath her skin. But something was wrong. Something darker, more sinister. The shadows that had once been mere flickers at the edge of her vision began to creep—no, crawl—over her skin. They were not of her own doing, but they felt familiar, as if they had always been there, buried beneath her.
She blinked, staring down at her arms, and to her horror, the shadows were shooting out of her veins—black tendrils twisting and curling along her skin. It was as though she had conjured them from within, birthed them into existence with nothing but the power of her pulse. They surged, thick and restless, like serpents made of darkness itself, moving with a will of their own.
The sky above her had fallen dark. No stars. No moon. The celestial bodies that had once lit the heavens were gone, swallowed whole by the creeping shadows that seemed to have overtaken everything. The world had been consumed by the dark, and Lena—lying beneath the ruins of it all—knew, without a doubt, that this had been her doing. She had seen the destruction before, but never like this. Never as if the world itself had fallen apart, and she was the one holding the remnants together with the threads of darkness that crawled from her veins.
The shadows had taken over. They were hers now. And in that moment, Lena realized the truth: she wasn't just part of the ruins of this world. She was its cause.
She woke with a start, her heart hammering in her chest, her breathing ragged as if she'd just run a marathon. The dream clung to her, its intensity still fresh, its flames licking at her skin, leaving her trembling. She collapsed back onto the bed, struggling to grasp what was real, what was a memory, what was nothing but the remnants of sleep. Everything felt like a hazy blur, as if the line between dreams and waking life had dissolved entirely.
Her eyes landed on the window—hadn't she closed it on her way in? The realization hit her like a cold splash of water. She had definitely closed it. And yet, there it was—open, the curtain fluttering gently in the breeze.
A soft wind blew in, cool against her clammy skin, tugging at her hair. It swept across her face, soothing, calming. For a fleeting moment, the sensation wrapped around her, mimicking the way the shadows had caressed her skin in the dream. The touch was strangely familiar, a ghostly sensation that danced over her, sending a shiver down her spine. It was as if the wind had somehow become the shadows, the very thing that had cocooned her, giving her a false sense of safety in the midst of destruction.
The thought struck her sharply, a haunting realization. The shadows from her dream had felt safe. They had wrapped her in their embrace, even as they brought ruin to everything she had ever loved. It was then that she understood—she had found comfort in the very thing that should have terrified her.
The sensation shattered her calm, a jolt that snapped her back to reality. Heart racing, she scrambled from the bed, her legs unsteady as she rushed to the window. Panic gripped her chest as she slammed it shut, locking it tight. She pulled the blinds down with a desperate force, as if closing out the remnants of that dream, trying to block out the lingering touch of shadows.
Lena limped back to her bed, every step a reminder of the chaos that had unfolded just days ago. The pain in her foot throbbed, the bandage barely holding, and her palm, still raw and torn, burned with a reminder of the terror she had narrowly escaped. She sank into the mattress, sighing deeply, feeling the weight of exhaustion drag her down.
It had been two days since she'd hidden herself away in this apartment, unwilling—or perhaps unable—to step foot outside. The thought of what happened that night chilled her to the bone, her skin prickling with the icy remnants of fear. Was it even real? The question lingered, unanswered. Her mind struggled to make sense of the events, but the reality of her injuries—the bandaged foot, the torn-up palm—was enough to tell her that something had happened. Something far beyond her understanding.
She didn't want to think about it anymore. She didn't want to run into them again, Those... men, if they could even be called that. Or monsters, perhaps. She couldn't decide. Either way, the thought of encountering either of them again was enough to make her blood run cold.
Her landlord had been oddly silent, and that silence was unsettling. She had half expected to be kicked out by the next day, her rent overdue and her only "employment" nothing but a haunting memory. Yet, no eviction notice had appeared. Nothing. Maybe he was just waiting for her to crack, Lena thought, or maybe he was just being patient, giving her a few more days before tossing her out like last week's trash. Either way, she wasn't complaining. A little bit of luck wouldn't hurt. Not after everything.
She grabbed a couple of protein bars from her nightstand, the only sustenance she had left, and tore them open. As she chewed, the taste was almost non-existent—barely more than cardboard. Her stomach growled in protest, but the pills she took with a swig of water quickly numbed the ache, even if only temporarily. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, sinking deeper into the bed.
For now, she just needed to survive. But Lena knew that she wasn't going to be able to outrun this forever. Something had changed, something she couldn't explain, but she felt it in the pit of her stomach. The shadows weren't finished with her. Not yet.