A sharp breath caught in her throat as Shanane's eyes flew open. Her heart hammered violently in her chest, each beat reverberating through her ribcage like a trapped animal. For a moment, the room was silent, still, too still.
Her mind fought to ground itself, to reassure her that it had all been a nightmare, just another twisted creation of her exhausted, grieving mind. But this time, something was different.
The terror didn't fade. The fear didn't loosen its hold on her throat.
She could still feel it. The cold, clammy air of the forest. The wet earth beneath her bare feet. The scent of blood thick in her lungs. Her mother's face, smiling softly yet hiding something vile. The "thing" wearing her own face, its smile too wide, its eyes too dark.
The twisted creatures, standing around her bed, watching her. Waiting. And the words:
"The Master is ready for you." They echoed in her head, sinking deep into the corners of her thoughts like a thorn she couldn't pull free.
Her breaths came faster, sharper. Her skin prickled with cold sweat, her fingers trembling as they gripped the edge of her blanket. She sat up slowly, her gaze darting around the room.
It looked the same: wooden walls, the table with the half-melted candles, the cluttered shelves of her grandmother's herbs and remedies. The faint morning light seeped through the curtains, weak and hesitant.
But something was wrong.
Her eyes drifted to the floor. And her heart plummeted There was footprints. Dozens of them, circling her bed like a ritual, like a trap. Dark, muddy imprints pressed into the wooden floor, trailing in erratic, chaotic patterns. They didn't belong here. And they weren't human.
Her pulse roared in her ears as she leaned closer, her eyes widening as she took in the twisted shapes. Some were like hooves, cloven and sharp-edged, leaving deep, splintered impressions. Others were like paws, but the toes were too long, bent at unnatural angles, with elongated claws that had scratched at the wood.
There were prints that looked like no animal she had ever known: wide, webbed, with tendrils stretching from their edges, like roots searching for something to grasp.
The floorboards creaked under her shifting weight, and the sound made her flinch. Her fingers hovered over one of the prints, the edges still slightly wet, the dirt still fresh. She could almost feel the chill of the creatures that had stood there, their faceless heads watching her, waiting.
"This can't be real." Her voice was a ragged whisper, but deep down she knew.
It was real. Every part of it.
Her throat tightened, panic clawing up from her chest and squeezing her lungs. Her eyes darted to the corners of the room, searching for any sign that they were still there, that they were still watching.
Were they still here, hiding in the shadows, waiting for her to fall asleep again?
Her mind spun, the weight of it pressing down on her until it felt like she would crack apart. Her heart beat wildly, her breath catching in her throat. The room seemed to blur, the edges of her vision closing in.
"Get out! You have to get out." her mind screamed. But where could she go? What was there beyond these walls but a village that already thought she was cursed, haunted, a stain left behind by her grandmother's shadow?
What could she possibly do, now that the things from her nightmares had stepped into the waking world, now that her mother's voice whispered from a place that didn't exist?
Her fingers dug into her scalp, her eyes squeezing shut. The room spun, the footprints blurring into twisted shapes, the air thickening with a suffocating weight.
She felt trapped in her own mind, trapped in this cursed house, trapped in something far beyond her understanding.
The ground felt unstable beneath her, the walls too close, the air too thick. Every shadow felt like it was waiting to take shape, to reach out with clawed, unnatural fingers and pull her back into that room of blood and sigils.
Her gaze returned to the footprints, to the twisted, unnatural evidence of what had stood beside her bed.
She had to do something. She had to find answers. Because if she didn't, they would find her again. And next time, they might not let her wake up.
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∆☆ ATHERAMOND ☆∆
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Beneath the panic, a memory stirred. Like she the vieil covering her mind is finally gone.
It was memory from years ago, something she had buried, forgotten, dismissed as a child's wild imagination.
She had been nine, young, curious, and often left to wander the cottage while her grandmother worked. One afternoon, she had been playing alone in the sitting room, tracing her fingers over the grain of the wooden floor, imagining shapes and patterns.
That's when she had seen it. The wall had shifted. It had rippled, like a curtain caught in the wind, the wood blurring before her eyes. And then, as if it had always been there, a narrow passageway appeared, dark and narrow, leading somewhere unseen.
Her heart had leaped with curiosity. She had stepped forward, peering into the shadows of the corridor just as her grandmother had emerged.
The look on her face sharp, furious, terrified had frozen Shanane in place.
__Edriane: "What are you doing here?"
Her voice had been sharp, a whip of sound that made Shanane flinch. Her grandmother's eyes had been wild, her hands shaking. She had tried to explain, to say she had just been playing, that she didn't understand, but her grandmother's expression had darkened further.
__Edriane: "You are never to come near this place again. Do you understand me?"
The reprimand had burned, a harshness that Shanane had never known from her before. Tears had burned at the corners of her eyes, and she had nodded, frightened and confused.
And just like that, the passage had disappeared. Gone. As if it had never existed.
She had tried to forget it, to convince herself it was just a game her mind had played. But the memory had lingered, tugging at the corners of her thoughts, a whisper of something forbidden.
But that wasn't the only time.
She remembered another night, years later, when she was twelve. The cottage had been silent, the village asleep. She had woken from a nightmare, her throat tight and dry, her skin slick with sweat. The house had been still, too still. And then, she heard soft and deliberate footsteps, passing just outside her room.
Shanane had slipped from her bed, her feet bare against the cool floor, her heart beating softly in her chest. She had followed the sound, her curiosity overwhelming her lingering fear.
And there it was again: the passage.
It had appeared just as it had years before, rippling out of nowhere, dark and foreboding. Her grandmother's form had disappeared into it, swallowed by the shadows.
Shanane's fingers had grazed the edge of the opening, her breath caught in her throat. She had tried to step forward, to follow but she couldn't.
Her legs refused to move. Her arms hung useless at her sides. It was like an unseen force had locked her in place, pinning her to the ground. Her heart had raced, her body trembling with a fear that had no explanation.
And then, the passage had closed.
The wall sealed itself as if it had never opened, and Shanane was left standing alone in the dark, her breath ragged and shallow.
Her grandmother had returned hours later, at four in the morning.
She had stormed into Shanane's room, her eyes burning with something that wasn't entirely human. Shanane could still hear Edriane's voice echoing through her mind.
It hadn't been her grandmother's voice. It had been deeper, twisted, masculine, a growl that didn't belong to her gentle, weary grandmother.
__Edriana: "I told you never to go near that place!"
Shanane had frozen, her throat tight, her skin prickling with a cold that seeped deep into her bones. Her grandmother's eyes had glowed, not with anger, but with fire, red and furious. The shadows in the room had seemed to shiver and shrink, as if cowering from the intensity of her gaze.
She had apologized, stuttering and afraid, but her grandmother's gaze had lingered burning, unyielding.
And then, just as suddenly, it had vanished. Her grandmother's face had softened, the fire fading from her eyes, her shoulders sagging. Her voice had returned to its usual tired rasp.
__Edriana: "Just stay away, Shanane. For your own good."
And that was it. The subject was buried, never to be spoken of again. The memory, too, had faded, buried beneath the years and the growing distance between Shanane and the village.
Until now.
Now, when she was surrounded by twisted footprints left behind by creatures that didn't belong to this world. Now, when she was haunted by nightmares that felt like reality and voices that spoke from faces that shouldn't exist.
How had her grandmother known that Shanane had tried to follow her? How had she known unless something had told her?
The realization settled in her stomach, heavy and suffocating. The voice, the eyes, the rage, it hadn't been her grandmother that night. It had been something else.
Something that had used her grandmother's face, her voice, the same way the twisted creatures had used her mother's face last night.
Her heart hammered in her chest, the realization pressing down on her lungs, suffocating.
Her grandmother had kept secrets, dark, terrible secrets hidden beneath the cottage, hidden behind a door that didn't always exist.
The nightmares, the voices, the whispers, they all led back to the same place: The secret room. The one her mother's voice or whatever had worn her mother's face had told her to find. The one she had been warned to stay away from.
Her pulse roared in her ears, her thoughts spinning wildly. She had to find it. She had to see what her grandmother had been hiding
But the thought alone sent a tremor through her, a primal fear that crawled beneath her skin. What if she found it and what waited for her wasn't a simple explanation, but something far worse something she couldn't escape from?
Her hands trembled, fingers digging into the edge of the bed as if to anchor herself. The twisted footprints still scattered around her room seemed to mock her hesitation, a taunting reminder of the things that had already crossed the threshold between nightmares and reality.
What would she find if she went looking? Would it be more of them, more of those creatures whose hollow faces still haunted her thoughts? Would it be the room from her nightmares, the one drenched in blood and symbols that pulsed with something unholy?
Would it be the truth of what had worn her mother's face, of what had taken on her own to speak to her in that chamber of terror?
Would it be her grandmother's secrets, truths so terrible that they had to be hidden behind walls that appeared and vanished at will?
Her pulse raced, her thoughts tearing in every direction. What if the reason her grandmother had hidden it away, had protected it so fiercely, was because it was never meant to be uncovered? What if she wasn't just protecting Shanane from the village's cruelty, but from something darker, something that the villagers had feared for good reason?
But she couldn't live like this, caught in a half-reality where every corner of her mind was invaded by shadows. She couldn't keep waking up to twisted footprints and voices that knew her name.
Her life had become a hell of confusion, fear, and sleepless nights. The village hated her, whispered of her like a curse. She couldn't leave, couldn't escape the weight of her grandmother's legacy, and the nightmares only grew more vivid, more relentless.
If she didn't find the room, if she didn't search for the truth, she knew she would unravel completely. Whatever her grandmother had been protecting, whatever had been waiting in the dark, was already creeping into her life. And if she didn't confront it, it would consume her.
The question of her grandmother's death hung over it all, heavy and unanswered. The cavern, the twisted state of her body, what had really happened to her? Was it related to the secret room? Those creatures had something to do with her death?
Her grandmother's death was the beginning of this nightmare. If there were answers, they would be there, in that hidden room, behind the door that shouldn't exist.
She had to see it. She had to find it. Even if the truth was something she could never take back.