Asteria
There's nothing.
Nothing but darkness.
An endless, suffocating ocean stretching beneath my feet, swallowing me with every heartbeat.
It's like time doesn't exist here.
Or if it does, it's slipping through my fingers like sand I can't hold on to.
I can't move. It feels like I'm trying to walk through thick tar. Every step is crushing the air out of my lungs, squeezing my bones until they feel hollow. I can feel myself breaking apart, slowly, painfully, sorrow seeping through every cell of my body.
I want to scream so badly.To howl.From the depths of my being.
To give my soul, somehow, a way out of this darkness.But nothing comes out.
I feel it clinging desperately to me, as if the alternative would be far worse.But what could be worse than this suffering?
How did I get here?
I guess it all started that cursed night...
When darkness finally found me....
______________________
The rain was pouring down hard, like the sky was warning me of what was coming. I drew a slow, steady breath, trying to force calm into my chest. My eyes locked on the raindrops sliding down the tall window. Each one left a trail of shimmering light, like moonlight trapped in motion. I pressed my hands together under the wooden table, squeezing them between my knees. I needed something solid to hold onto, something to keep me grounded.
Then I saw it.
A figure. Outside. Tall, shrouded in black. Motionless. Just a few meters from the glass. Standing as if carved from the storm itself.
My pulse leaped. The window felt impossibly thin, a fragile barrier between me and whatever lurked beyond. I leaned forward, squinting, desperate for a face, a clue, something familiar. My stomach clenched, twisting into a tight knot.
The rain blurred everything into a liquid haze. The shadow shifted. Twisted. Dark energy was pulsating through the falling drops, alive, almost breathing.
My chest burned as heat spread through my arms, up my neck, over my ears and forehead. My palms were slick.
And then it vanished. Melted into the storm.
Only my reflection remained. Pale. Frowning. Lost.
"Hey… where are you?"
A deep voice beside me broke through the storm in my mind. It was steady and warm, pulling me back into the room. Guilt flickered, the kind that always came when I drifted too far and the shadows grew too loud.
I turned meeting his soft brown eyes with tints of green. They held a depth that drew me in, like a touch across the table.
His name was Julian.
He was studying my face, reading every tension line, every unspoken fear. Something inside me eased. I managed a small smile and let his calm wash over me.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice tired. "I didn't sleep. Again."
His frown deepened, sending a subtle ripple through his beard. He looked like a warrior from another time. Serious, composed, and impossibly grounded. His shaved head gave his features a bold, striking symmetry. The long brown beard along his jaw added intensity, giving him a look that could intimidate anyone. Long lashes softened the fierceness he showed the world. With me, it turned into warmth and tenderness, a side no one else ever saw. Only I did.
We had been together for a while, though the exact length always slipped my memory. Some days felt like we had known each other for lifetimes. Other days felt like we were meeting for the first time. Both were strangely comforting.
"I'm here," I whispered. I reached across the table and touched his hand. The moment our skin met, my scattered thoughts were stilled.
"Maybe you should see someone," he murmured, frowning. His frown didn't fade, no matter my smile.
"Or maybe I should see you in my bed," I teased, leaning closer, inhaling his scent. Warm and earthy. A mix of sandalwood, tobacco, and something I couldn't name. My pulse skipped.
His lips curved into a slow smile.
"Anything to help you, miss," he murmured, leaning in until our lips were brushing lightly.
Heat spread through me, melting the tension in my chest. For a moment, the shadow outside, the nightmares, the weight pressing down vanished. There was only Julian. Only this closeness. Only the aching pull I could not resist.
I traced the edge of the menu with my fingertip, tapping lightly, trying to match the rhythm of the rain outside. A shiver ran down my spine as the café lights flickered and steadied. My reflection in the polished table shimmered strangely. Distorted and unfamiliar. I shook my head and focused on Julian's breathing. Each inhale, each exhale, pulled me back to reality.
The soft clinks of cups on porcelain broke the spell, just enough to remind me where I was. I pressed my forehead to my hand, breathing in the warm scent of roasted beans.
The café felt alive with subtle energy. Jazz hummed from a corner speaker. Pages rustled at another table. Rain tapped the rooftop. Floorboards creaked beneath shifting weight. Even the faint smell of wet pavement drifted in, grounding and strange.
It should have calmed me. It didn't.
Outside, the rain was pounding harder, drumming against the glass like a heartbeat. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Shadows stretched in the corners, bending unnaturally. I told myself it was imagination. Shadows couldn't move on their own.
But deep down, I knew something had been watching. Something was waiting.
Julian was speaking about dreams, describing landscapes that were shifting beneath his feet, people who were glowing like reflections on water and strange symbols burning behind his eyelids when he woke. Sometimes I wondered if his dreams were something more. If he sensed the same darkness that haunted me.
Then, from the corner of my eye, I saw him.
My stomach twisted.
A figure was sitting at a table far across the room, hidden in the dimmest corner. I hadn't noticed him until now. His features were unreadable, hidden in the faint glow around him.
He was tall, impossibly still, like he had been carved from shadow itself. Black hair was falling across his forehead, hiding his eyes, but I could feel them. Sharp. Measuring. Observing. Cutting through me with an intensity that felt almost physical.
Every movement was deliberate, controlled. One leg was crossed over the other. Hands were resting lightly on the table. His presence was demanding attention without a sound.
Our eyes met for a heartbeat.
My chest tightened. A shiver crawled up my spine.
Something about him felt wrong. Not immediately threatening, but utterly unfamiliar in a way that felt dangerous. My mind was racing.
Had he just walked in?
Had he been there the whole time?
How had I missed him?
His gaze lingered, heavy and unreadable, as if he could see through me, peeling back layers I didn't even know were there.
I looked away quickly, pretending to search for the waitress, though my pulse betrayed every flicker of fear. Julian leaned, warmth radiating from him, but I couldn't shake the unease prickling along my nerves.
Who is he?
Why is he here?
Why does his presence feel like a warning?
I was trying to study him subtly. His posture was relaxed, but his body was taut, precise, ready for anything. His fingers were tapping lightly against the table. I couldn't hear it, but I felt it. A pulse in sync with the tension he was carrying.
Before I could dwell on it, the waitress returned, setting our drinks down, breaking the spell that had held my attention.
"Thank you," I murmured as she was placing my cup on the table.
And then I froze.
Blood.
A deep red droplet slid across my arm, leaving a warm trail. My chest tightened. The café seemed to tilt around me. I glanced at Julian, hoping he would see it too. But he didn't notice anything.
It was happening again.
My pulse pounded in my ears. My fingers trembled. I lifted my gaze toward the waitress, dread curling through me like smoke.
What I saw made my breath catch.
Blood was streaming down her face.
It was pouring from hollow spaces where her eyes should have been, running in dark, twisting lines across her cheeks, soaking her uniform, dripping onto the floor. Her lips twisted into a wide, impossible smile. Somewhere between joy and agony. She moved without pain, as if the blood wasn't even there.
I couldn't move.
I couldn't breathe.
My body was shaking violently.
The sharp scent of iron was filling my nose.
The waitress leaned closer, her ruined face inches from mine. I parted my lips to scream, to beg, to warn Julian, but no sound came.
Her smile widened.
Then her voice slid into my mind, soft and slicing.
"Come to me."
Everything inside was screaming to run. To fight. To do anything.
But I was frozen, caught in the pull of something I could not see or touch.
And from the corner of my eye, I saw him again. The figure in the dim corner. He didn't move. He didn't blink.
But I felt it.
A pull, as if he was waiting for exactly this moment.
Waiting for my reaction.
And somehow, deep in my bones, I knew that this was only the beginning.