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 night…
When darkness finally found me…
___________________________________
The rain was pouring down hard, like the sky was warning me of what was coming.
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.
I inhaled deeply, watching the droplets sliding down the tall window. Each one left a trail of shimmering light, like moonlight trapped in motion.
My hands were clasped tightly beneath the table, the wooden surface pressing into my knees as I tried to ground myself.
Then I saw it.
A figure outside. Tall. Motionless. Shrouded in black. 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.
The rain distorted everything into a liquid blur. The figure twisted. Bent unnaturally. As if it breathed with the storm.
Heat crawled up my neck and over my ears. My palms grew slick.
And then… it vanished. Melted into the storm.
Only my reflection stared back at me. Pale. Tired. Lost.
"Hey… where are you?" A deep voice beside me broke through the haze in my mind. It was steady and warm, pulling me back into the room.
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.
"Sorry," I whispered. "I did not sleep. Not really."
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, reaching across the table, touching 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.
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.
Julian gave me that look again. The one halfway between worry and patience.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked slowly.
"I... No. I want to take my mind off it for now," I sighed forcing a smile on my face.
"How about you? You were saying something about another dream?"
He gave a slow nod, hesitating before speaking again.
"It started in a forest. Not a normal one. The trees were whispering. Their leaves moved like they were speaking in a language I could almost understand."
There was a heaviness in his tone that made my pulse slow. I leaned in, watching the small crease appear between his brows.
"There were others with me," he continued. "People… I think. I cannot remember their faces, but I felt like I knew them. Like they were important. And then the forest opened into a clearing, and he was there."
"Who?" I asked softly.
Julian exhaled, the air leaving him in a quiet rush. "A man sitting beneath a massive tree. It looked ancient. His temples were covered in symbols, glowing faintly, like embers."
A strange chill rippled down my spine.
"He was waiting for us," Julian said, voice dropping. "Not surprised. Not curious. Just… waiting. As if he had known my face for years."
"What did he say?" I whispered.
"That I needed to keep balance." Julian looked up then, and his eyes held an unsettling depth. ""Not 'find' balance. Not 'restore' it. Keep it. As if it were something I already had but was in danger of losing."
"He was so weird. It felt like he had a strange aura about him. Like he had roots in that forest." He continued after a long pause
A faint tremor brushed the edge of my nerves.
Julian swallowed hard, fingers curling around his cup. "And then I saw myself. Another me. Standing across the clearing. Covered in strange tattoos… marks that moved. They were alive."
My breath caught. "Your reflection?"
"No," he said, shaking his head. "It wasn't a reflection. It was him. Another version of me. And he stared like he was trying to warn me, but I couldn't hear the words."
The air around us felt thicker.
Julian leaned closer, lowering his voice as if the dream still lingered.
"And then?"
"The tree lit up," he whispered. "Symbols burning like fire racing across wood. He looked at me one last time… and everything went black."
Goosebumps crawled along my arms.
I inhaled slowly. "That sounds intense..."
He let out a breathy laugh, one without humor. "Yeah, it felt like..."
I watched him dumbfounded as he was struggling to find his words. He was never the type of person who would believe in such things. He was always practical and logical. Finding reason in any strange feeling or experience.
"I don't even know... Like it would be much more to it..." he trailed off softly.
His words lingered in the air, heavy and unsettling, weaving into the storm outside.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke.
I couldn't help but wonder if his dreams were something more. If he sensed the same darkness that haunted me.
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.
That's when, from the corner of my eye, I saw him.
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.
A shiver crawled up my spine as the air around him seemed to thicken.
Something about him felt wrong, not threatening, yet utterly unfamiliar, like a shadow pressing close to my thoughts.
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 heart stop in place.
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.
My body stiffened, lungs tightening as the sharp scent of iron curled through the air. The café tilted around me, every heartbeat hammering in my ears.
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."