The night pressed against the rotted walls, thick with mist and silence.
Inside, I knelt by the cold hearth, the Grimoire clutched tight against my chest.
Stillness.
Not outside — not in the world.
Inside me.
The storm of pain and confusion had dulled to a low, constant throb.
I could think.
Finally, I could remember.
Or at least — try.
I closed my eyes, diving deep into the broken, scattered remnants of this body's past.
The memories came like shattered glass — sharp, incomplete, but enough.
A university campus.
The heavy scent of old books and cold rain.
Students shuffling past a tall, stern man in a battered brown coat.
Ethan Blackwood.
History professor.
Scholar of ancient civilizations, of forgotten rituals and abandoned faiths.
Respected by his peers.
Admired by his students.
Driven by something more than just curiosity — an obsession for what the world refused to believe.
A world much like Earth.
But not.
Beneath the familiar surface, horrors festered.
Ghosts that wore human skins.
Demons that whispered through cracked mirrors.
Monsters that howled behind the thin fabric of reality.
All hidden.
All denied.
The common people lived blind, blissfully unaware.
But Ethan had seen.
Had known.
And it had consumed him.
An old bookstore, buried deep in the city's underbelly.
Dust thick enough to choke.
The air vibrating with unseen tension.
Among crumbling shelves, he found it — the Grimoire.
Bound in dark, oily leather.
Ink that shimmered between black and red.
No title. No author.
Only a heavy, waiting presence.
Ethan should have left it there.
Should have walked away.
But he was a scholar.
A seeker.
A fool.
He brought it home, his hands trembling not with fear — but with excitement.
The next memories came faster, sharper — moments flashing like lightning:
Pages covered in runes, diagrams of impossible rituals.
Symbols etched in blood, pulsing under candlelight.
Spells of protection, summoning, binding, banishment — knowledge older than memory.
And there — tucked in the deepest part of the Grimoire — an ancient demon summoning ritual.
It promised knowledge.
It promised power.
It demanded only one thing: intent.
No blood sacrifices. No elaborate preparation.
Only the will to call something from beyond.
And Ethan Voss, desperate to see what others denied, desperate to know, whispered the forbidden words.
The memory of that night slammed into me.
A circle drawn in chalk, shaking hands tracing forgotten symbols.
Candle flames guttering as an unseen wind slithered through the room.
A voice — not Ethan's — rising from the pit he had torn open.
The demon came.
Not with fire and thunder.
But with silence.
With a smile.
With hunger.
Ethan had no time to scream.
His soul was ripped free, devoured in an instant, leaving behind an empty, hollow vessel.
An abandoned house of flesh.
Waiting.
That was when I came.
Dragged from death — or something worse — by forces I still did not understand.
My soul, heavier with memories of another life, another world, was pulled into the hollow body.
Not by choice.
By necessity.
By fate.
I opened my eyes.
The cracked ceiling stared back at me like a blind god.
The world around me was unchanged — broken, rotting, silent.
But inside, everything was different.
I understood now.
This was not truly Ethan's body anymore.
It was mine.
Reclaimed from the jaws of oblivion.
Stitched together with broken memories, ancient knowledge, and stubborn will.
I rose slowly, the Grimoire still pressed against my side.
It had cost Ethan Voss everything.
But for me?
It was a beginning.
I moved to the battered desk once again, dragging the Grimoire into the weak light of the dying fire.
Pages rustled under my fingers, each one heavy with threat and promise.
Spells of warding.
Rituals of summoning.
Bindings of spirits.
Enchantments of blood.
This was no simple book.
This was a weapon.
A map.
A declaration of war against the hidden horrors of this world.
A low wind sighed against the shattered windows.
The night outside waited.
Ghosts.
Demons.
Monsters.
I smiled.
Let them wait.
Soon, they would learn that something far worse had come into their world.