"Damon?" I called out, lifting my head from the pages I'd been absorbed in. My voice echoed back to me in the empty hall, each syllable swallowed by the shadows. I glanced around, my excitement turning to unease. Where had he gone?
I got up, hugging the old book to my chest as I stepped out of the small reading nook. The dim light filtering in from the high, dusty windows did little to chase away the gloom. I called his name again, but only silence answered.
"Great," I muttered to myself, my voice sounding louder than I intended in the stillness. I tried my phone, but of course, I had no signal out here. Not that I could remember where "here" even was—Damon hadn't exactly given me directions on this little road trip.
I took a deep breath, trying to push down the flicker of panic. Damon might've left me here alone, but I could figure this out. I just had to focus on what I'd discovered and keep my mind occupied. Maybe it would help me feel less… stranded.
I walked back to the little reading corner and set the book down, carefully opening it again to the page I'd left off on. The worn paper crackled softly as I turned to the passages about the Petrova bloodline, my pulse quickening as I reread the lines about the "doppelgänger" and the "psychic." The more I read, the more things started to make a strange kind of sense, filling in gaps I hadn't even known existed.
The word "doppelgänger" echoed in my mind. Elena was a doppelgänger—her existence a strange reflection of another life, another lineage, all tied back to some ancient curse. But I wasn't just related to her by blood; this prophecy claimed I was something else entirely.
"A psychic…" I whispered to myself, the word feeling foreign on my tongue. Did that mean… I had some kind of power? I thought back to odd moments, like when I'd felt inexplicable urges, or when I'd seemed to sense things about people that I shouldn't have been able to know. I'd brushed it off as intuition or coincidence, but now… maybe it was something more.
But why had Damon brought me here? Why show me this book, these secrets? And why just leave me behind afterward?
Frustration bubbled up inside me, quickly followed by something more disorienting—disappointment. Damon had a knack for being both alluring and infuriating, always one step ahead, as if he was pulling strings just to watch me squirm. But this time, it felt different. It felt like he'd led me down a path only to vanish right when I needed answers the most.
"Fine," I muttered, slamming the book shut with more force than I intended. "Guess I'll find my own way back."
I set off down the hallway, hoping I could at least find the front entrance and figure out how far we'd driven from town. But as I wandered through the darkened halls, my frustration gave way to an unsettling realization: I couldn't even remember how we'd gotten here. Every corridor seemed identical, stretching into the shadows like some kind of ancient maze. It was as if the walls themselves were shifting, conspiring to keep me lost.
An uneasy chill crept up my spine, and I quickened my pace, trying to keep my breathing steady. The silence seemed to press in from all sides, the weight of the empty building settling over me. The further I walked, the more the shadows seemed to grow, closing in, as if whispering secrets I wasn't meant to hear.
"Damon, this isn't funny," I called out, my voice echoing back at me, small and distant.
No answer. Just the cold silence.
I turned another corner, only to find myself back in front of the little reading nook where I'd started. A frustrated laugh bubbled up from my chest, and I clutched the book tighter, feeling the worn leather binding under my fingertips as if it was the only real thing here. Every logical part of my mind told me to stay calm, to find a way out, but something in the shadows felt… wrong. Like I was being watched.
Taking a shaky breath, I closed my eyes for a moment, focusing on the words I'd read about the Petrova bloodline. Maybe if I just focused on that, on the reality of who I was—who Elena was—I could pull myself together.
The thought of Elena calmed me, and I could almost imagine her here with me, her stubborn resilience pushing me to keep going. She'd probably laugh at my panic, telling me I'd been too quick to trust Damon. I bit my lip, smiling slightly at the thought, my resolve strengthening. If Damon thought he could play me like this, he had another thing coming.
Opening my eyes, I forced myself to take a deep breath and focus on retracing my steps. The hall stretched before me, less menacing now, and I started forward with renewed determination.
That was when I heard it—a faint rustling, like fabric brushing against stone, somewhere just beyond the edge of my vision. I froze, every nerve on edge, and turned slowly, heart pounding as I strained to see in the dim light.
"Hello?" I called out, barely above a whisper.
But again, only silence.
I was alone—or at least, I hoped I was. But the eerie sense of being watched hadn't left, clinging to me like a shadow. I forced myself to keep moving, trying to shake off the feeling.
After what felt like hours, I finally stumbled upon the entrance. Relief flooded through me, and I pushed open the heavy doors, stepping out into the cool night air. I looked around, but Damon was nowhere to be seen. The car was gone too, of course.
"So much for being a charming road trip companion," I muttered, hugging my arms around myself. The chill of the night air was biting, but the silence was worse—deep, all-encompassing, and somehow lonelier than being lost in that dark building.
I started walking, the gravel crunching under my feet as I tried to remember the direction we'd come from. It would be a long trek home, but at least I was out of that oppressive maze of hallways.
As I walked, I thought about everything I'd found in that book, about the strange legacy that tied me and Elena together. The word "psychic" lingered in my mind, tantalizing and intimidating all at once. Was I supposed to have some kind of power? Did Damon know about it? Did he expect me to do something?
And what did it mean to be "bonded," as he'd put it?
I barely registered the miles slipping by as I lost myself in my thoughts, each step pushing me further into the cold clarity of the night. The sky was beginning to lighten with the first hints of dawn when I finally reached the edge of town, my legs aching and my mind buzzing with exhaustion and unanswered questions.
As soon as I stepped onto my street, I felt a rush of relief. Home. I quickened my pace, my heart pounding with the hope that I'd find Elena awake, ready to dive into the mystery with me. I wanted to show her the book, to tell her everything I'd discovered, and maybe, together, we could make sense of it all.
When I reached my door, I fumbled with my keys, finally managing to push it open. The house was quiet, but a warm light spilled from the living room. I hesitated, stepping inside carefully, the weight of the night's revelations pressing down on me.
"Elena?" I whispered, the word barely escaping my lips.