Rahat's breath caught in his throat.
The shadow girl stood inches away, her hollow gaze fixed on him.
The air around her seemed to pull the warmth from the room, and Rahat's heartbeat pounded so loudly, he swore she could hear it.
"W… who are you?" Rahat stammered.
The girl tilted her head, her hair swaying like strands of smoke.
"I am the Keeper of the First Key," she said, her voice like a whisper trapped between two worlds.
Her empty sockets locked onto the wooden box.
"But to open it… you must let the shadows in."
Rahat took a step back. "What does that even mean?"
She moved closer, and the lights in the morgue flickered.
"The shadows are watching you, Rahat. They've chosen you. If you reject them, they will devour you. If you accept them… you will see what no human should."
He looked at the box again. His fingers twitched.
Every instinct screamed to run, yet something stronger—curiosity—kept his feet glued to the floor.
"What's in the box?" he asked.
The girl's mouth curled into the faintest, unnatural smile.
"Your first weapon… or your first curse."
Before Rahat could speak, the temperature dropped even further.
Shadows on the walls began to move—stretching, twisting, reaching toward him like living things.
One by one, they slid along the floor and into his body.
Pain exploded in his chest. His vision blurred, and for a moment, the room seemed upside-down.
Then, as quickly as it came, the pain was gone.
The shadow girl's tone changed—softer now.
"It's done. You've welcomed them."
Rahat looked at his hands—they seemed darker at the edges, almost fading into the air.
The box clicked open on its own.
Inside was a small, ancient key made of black metal, cold as ice. Along its side were tiny runes that pulsed faintly, as if breathing.
Before Rahat could touch it, the girl's voice became urgent.
"Take it and run. They're here."
From somewhere deep in the morgue came the sound of footsteps—slow, deliberate, heavy.
The kind that didn't belong to the living.
And then… a low growl echoed through the darkness.