There are moments when the world feels unreal. When air turns heavy, when light bends the wrong way, when you can feel someone breathing inside you even though you’re alone. That’s what it has become for me—every heartbeat a shared rhythm, every breath echoing another’s.I used to think death ended everything. I was wrong. Sometimes, it only begins something worse.Grace sleeps now, her head resting against the pillow, her face calm for the first time in days. I sit beside her, watching the way her fingers curl around the edge of the blanket, like she’s trying to hold onto something even in her dreams. I want to touch her, to feel warmth again, but my hands feel colder than the air.Valeria’s voice hums faintly at the edge of my thoughts. It isn’t always words. Sometimes it’s only the sound of breath. Sometimes it’s laughter I half remember, the way she sounded when we were young, before everything broke. I tell myself it’s memory, nothing more. But when I close my eyes, I feel her finge

The storm did not begin with thunder—it began with silence.That heavy, trembling silence before the heavens decide to shatter.The ruins quaked beneath our feet, light and shadow coiling in violent spirals around Luca. The air was charged with something primal—grief, rage, power—all twisting together into a single, living force that pulsed with his heartbeat.“Luca,” I called, stepping forward despite the tremors shaking the ground. “You can fight it. You have to.”He was kneeling now, his body convulsing, a dark aura bleeding from his skin. Every breath he took came with a shudder, every second a battle between the man and the monster. His eyes flickered between amber and black, like two souls warring inside the same cage.“You don’t understand…” His voice cracked—not from weakness, but from the weight of what he carried. “She’s not gone. She’s never gone.”Behind him, the air rippled, and she appeared.Valeria.Not the woman of soft laughter and quiet strength I once knew—but a specter dra

The fires had long gone out.Only the wind spoke now—soft, empty, and hollow as it weaved through the ruins that once bore their names.Lucas stood on the ridge where the ground had cracked open, his shadow long and trembling in the silver wash of the half-moon. The ash clung to him like memory, like guilt that refused to fade. Below, the valley was silent—no screams, no clash of blades, no echoes of the storm that had torn through their world.Just silence.Grace knelt a few feet behind him, her hands pressed into the earth as though she could still feel its heartbeat. Her hair, streaked with dust and streaks of dried blood, fell across her face as she whispered something—prayers maybe, or names of those they’d lost. Lucas couldn’t tell. He didn’t ask. He didn’t need to.They had both seen too much.And both were haunted by the same ghost.When the wind shifted, it carried with it a faint chime. A bell? No. A whisper.It came from beneath—the low hum of something ancient, almost familiar. Th

The following morning arrived with a gray sky and a silence that felt heavier than it should. The world outside the safehouse was quiet, the kind of quiet that sits in the bones of things. Even the birds seemed to have forgotten how to sing.Grace woke first. She lay still for a long while, her body curved against Luca’s. The warmth between them was steady, but there was something different about him. His breathing was uneven, caught somewhere between waking and dreaming.She turned to face him. His eyes were open, unfocused, staring at the far wall where the mirror hung. The faint reflection of light trembled across the cracked glass.“Luca,” she whispered, touching his arm.He blinked slowly and turned toward her. His voice came out low and distant. “Did you hear it?”Grace frowned. “Hear what?”“The song.”Her brow furrowed as she sat up. “There’s no song.”He looked back at the mirror. His jaw tightened. “It was here. Last night. I heard it again.”Grace followed his gaze to the glass. It

The air around the ravine felt colder now. The mist hung low, coiling through the trees like breath from something unseen. Grace knelt beside Luca, her hands pressed against his face, feeling the warmth slip from his skin.He looked so pale. His lips trembled with each shallow breath. His shirt clung to his body, soaked through with water and sweat. The faint marks on his wrist still glowed faintly, like embers pressed into flesh.“Stay with me,” she whispered. “Please.”His eyelids fluttered. “Grace.”“I’m here.”He opened his eyes slowly, and she wished he hadn’t. They weren’t his anymore. The color was darker, a deep shade that seemed to swallow light. She could see something moving behind them—something watching.Grace’s heart clenched. “Luca, talk to me.”His voice came out raw. “It hurts.”She tried to steady her breathing. “I know. You’ll be all right. We’ll find someone who can help.”He shook his head weakly. “It’s too late.”“No,” she said firmly, though her voice broke. “It’s not. Do