Under the veil of a moonless night, a fleeting shadow raced through the streets, as if carried by the whispers of the wind itself. This shadow belonged to Aunt Mariam, cloaked in an aura of enigma. Draped in tight black leather that melded with the darkness, her face was hidden beneath a scarf, revealing only piercing brown eyes that glinted like embers in the night. Her movements were swift and deliberate, a ghost in the silence. She approached her first destination with purpose—a solitary house at the end of the lane. It was Julia Merth's home.
Aunt Mariam lingered in the shadows, her eyes narrowing as she took in the grandeur of Julia Merth's home. The mansion stood like a silent sentinel against the night, its pristine white walls glowing faintly in the moonlight. Tall glass windows, framed by ornate wrought iron, reflected the shimmer of the perfectly manicured garden below. The sprawling estate exuded wealth and opulence, its every detail a testament to Julia's privileged life.
Mariam's gaze swept over the structure, noting the faint glow of lights dimming one by one. Through the expansive windows, she saw the nanny pacing in her quarters—modern, sleek, and situated near the east wing. Julia's bedroom, however, occupied the upper west corner, its terrace adorned with ivy-wrapped railings and glittering fairy lights. A quick glance at her watch confirmed the timing; both Julia and her nanny were asleep.
Moving like a shadow, Mariam crossed the vast garden, her movements fluid and soundless. She reached the towering outer wall of the mansion, pulling a compact grappling hook from her belt. In one smooth motion, the hook latched onto the terrace railing, and she began her ascent. Her black leather outfit clung tightly, blending her figure into the darkness as she scaled the wall with practiced ease.
Reaching the terrace, she crouched low, her sharp brown eyes scanning the glass doors leading into Julia's room. The faintest of breaths fogged the glass, and Mariam knew the girl was inside. Slowly, she slid open the door, careful not to disturb the silence of the night.
Inside, the bedroom was lavish, draped in soft pastels and gold accents. A canopy bed dominated the space, its sheer curtains glowing faintly under the soft moonlight. Julia lay nestled among silk sheets, her breathing slow and rhythmic. Mariam moved with precision, her steps light on the plush carpet. She stopped at the edge of the bed, her gaze fixed on the sleeping girl.
Aunt Mariam stood over Julia, her sharp brown eyes studying the girl's serene face. Julia didn't seem like the type to bully. Her features, illuminated by the moonlight and held an air of maturity . But Mariam's mission was clear—actions spoke louder than appearances.
Reaching into the hidden pocket of her leather jacket, she retrieved a small vial filled with a dark, swirling liquid. The Nightmare Potion. Holding it delicately, she uncorked the vial and leaned over Julia's still form. With precision, she let three drops fall onto Julia's forehead. The liquid glimmered for a moment before disappearing into the skin.
Mariam straightened, her gloved fingers brushing the air just above Julia's head. She closed her eyes, channeling her power into the girl's mind. For a second, she hesitated, her focus faltering as she glimpsed fragments of Julia's thoughts—flashes of school halls, laughter, and saw her bulling memories that included Golderine. Mariam pulled back slightly, ensuring not to delve too deeply. This wasn't about understanding.It was just making sure that she feels the same pain. Maybe turn into a new leaf.
The effects of the potion began almost immediately. Julia's breathing grew rapid, her face contorted in distress as beads of sweat formed on her forehead. Her fingers twitched against the silk sheets, and muffled whimpers escaped her lips. Mariam observed silently, ensuring the potion had taken hold. It would give Julia a taste of the fear and helplessness . But the one who will be giving her pain will be Golderine in her dream .
Satisfied, Mariam slipped back through the glass doors, her exit as silent as her arrival. She descended the wall with ease, vanishing into the shadows of the estate.
Aunt Mariam's night was far from over. As she left Julia's mansion behind, her thoughts turned to her next target—Stacey Cole. The walk to Stacey's home felt longer, the streets quieter now, but Mariam's resolve remained firm. She reached the Cole residence just as the clock struck midnight.
Stacey's house was modest but inviting, the kind of place that seemed to welcome anyone who passed by. The seven-room home stood with a quiet charm, its wooden panels painted in soft cream with a red brick chimney that exhaled faint wisps of smoke into the cold night. A single porch light glowed warmly, and a pair of well-worn rocking chairs sat near the door, hinting at a home filled with love and simplicity.
Mariam circled the perimeter, her eyes scanning for any signs of life. A faint hum of crickets filled the air, accompanied by the occasional rustle of leaves. Through the slightly parted curtains of the living room, she saw the dim glow of a television left on, a blanket draped over the armrest suggesting someone had fallen asleep there earlier. But now, the house was still. Everyone was asleep.
Carefully, Mariam moved around the house, stopping beneath Stacey's bedroom window, and opened it using her powers . And went inside Stacey's bedroom.
Inside, Stacey's room was cozy and bright, filled with signs of a playful teenager. The walls were painted a soft yellow, adorned with posters of her favorite bands and sketches she had likely drawn herself. Different bags of different brands packed nicely and a small lamp with a crocheted shade cast a warm glow over the room.
Stacey lay curled up under a patchwork quilt, her face relaxed and innocent in sleep. Her tousled hair framed her youthful face, and a faint smile tugged at the corners of her lips, as though she was dreaming of something pleasant. Mariam hesitated, observing the girl who was known to her friends as bubbly and kindhearted. But beneath that exterior, Mariam knew there were whispers of cruel pranks and harsh words.
Reaching into her jacket, Mariam pulled out the vial of Nightmare Potion. She uncorked it, the dark liquid swirling ominously. Leaning closer, she let three precise drops fall onto Stacey's forehead. The liquid shimmered for a moment before disappearing into her skin.
Stacey's body twitched, her expression shifting as the potion began its work. Her breaths became uneven, and a faint whimper escaped her lips. Her hands gripped the quilt tighter, her body stiffening as beads of sweat formed on her brow. Mariam watched silently, ensuring the potion had taken hold.
Satisfied with her work at Stacey Cole's home, Aunt Mariam disappeared into the shadows, her focus shifting to her final target—Stephanie Abrams. Unlike her previous targets, Stephanie didn't live in a sprawling mansion or a cozy house. She resided in a luxurious high-rise apartment, perched above the bustling city like a queen surveying her domain.
Stephanie's reputation preceded her. She was wealthy, popular, and impeccably polished, known for her magnetic charm . But beneath the surface, there were whispers of her manipulation, of the subtle cruelty hidden behind her dazzling smile.
The apartment building loomed ahead, its glass facade reflecting the city lights. Mariam scanned the perimeter as she approached, her eyes sharp for any signs of activity. The lobby was empty at this late hour, and the doorman was slumped in his chair, dozing off. Slipping through a side entrance, Mariam avoided the cameras and made her way to the stairwell.
Stephanie's apartment was on the 15th floor, and Mariam ascended quickly, her boots silent on the steps. When she reached the floor, she paused to take in the hallway. It was quiet, the walls adorned with expensive artwork, and the faint scent of fresh flowers lingered in the air. Mariam moved toward Stephanie's door, which was slightly opened, as though inviting her in.
Inside, the apartment was everything Mariam expected—sleek, modern, and unapologetically opulent. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of the city skyline, while minimalist furniture and abstract art pieces gave the space a sense of curated elegance. The air smelled faintly of lavender, likely from the diffuser on a marble side table.
Stephanie's bedroom was at the end of the hallway, the door open slightly. Mariam entered cautiously, her sharp brown eyes sweeping over the room. The space was spacious but cozy, with a large bed draped in crisp white sheets and a gray cashmere throw. A balcony door stood open, letting in the cool night breeze. Stephanie lay on her bed, her blond hair cascading over the pillow like liquid gold.
Even in sleep, she looked composed, her features delicate yet commanding. Mariam approached silently, standing over the girl who seemed so untouchable during the day. This was the moment when appearances meant nothing.
Reaching into her jacket, Mariam retrieved the final vial of Nightmare Potion. She uncorked it, the dark liquid swirling ominously in the moonlight. With precise movements, she poured three drops onto Stephanie's forehead.
At first, Stephanie remained still, but soon her body began to stir. Her brow furrowed, and her breathing quickened. Beads of sweat appeared on her flawless skin as her hands clenched the silk sheets. A faint whimper escaped her lips, followed by a sharp intake of breath. The potion was working, pulling her into a realm of nightmares where her fears and insecurities would take shape.
Mariam stood back, watching for a moment as Stephanie's perfect composure unraveled. Despite the luxury and power Stephanie surrounded herself with, she was as vulnerable as anyone else in this moment.
Satisfied that the potion had taken hold, Mariam stepped back toward the balcony. She moved silently, her presence fading into the shadows as she climbed over the railing and descended the fire escape.
The night air was crisp against her skin as she touched the ground, her mission complete. The city stretched out before her, its lights glittering like a thousand stars. Aunt Mariam disappeared into the night, leaving no trace of her visit behind, but knowing the seeds of fear and reflection had been planted.