The sound of birds chirping woke him. His body ached, every muscle protesting as he opened his eyes. The world was different now—quiet, still. He lay on a rough wooden cot inside a small, dimly lit cabin. The scent of freshly baked bread and damp earth filled the air.


    “Good, you’re awake.”


    The voice was familiar yet wrong.


    Yuki sat up, his eyes narrowing at the figure before him. Missy. Or at least, someone who looked like her. Her skin was pale, her eyes an unnatural shade of red, and her dress—something out of a gothic fairy tale.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    “You’ve changed,” Yuki muttered, his voice hoarse.


    Missy smiled faintly, her gaze piercing. “We both have.”


    She poured tea from a delicate porcelain pot and set a cup before him. “You were dreaming again, weren’t you? About The Void.”


    He stiffened. “How do you know about that?”


    “Because I had the same dream,” she said, her voice soft but unwavering. “The fog, the whispers, the promises of power. You were chosen to be the judge, the executioner. But it was a lie, Yuki. We were pawns—tools of something ancient, something vile.”


    Yuki’s hands clenched. “Nyarlathotep.”


    Missy shook her head. “Not quite. Yaldabaoth. The False God.”