Ziria tightened her grip on the lantern’s handle as she walked back through the graveyard, its faint glow painting her shadow in jagged lines along the cold ground. The silence pressed down on her ears, too heavy, too complete. Muted and so thick. The story the shadow had told clung to her like smoke, a seeping into the cracks of her mind.


    The boy. His dark shadow. The forest.


    She had never heard anything like it before. She had worked as a bridge to the dead for many years, listening to their secrets and their regrets, but the dead didn’t come back to her summonings, never more than once.


    They didn’t haunt her after she sent them back to their slumber. They didn’t return with more stories.


    But it had. The Shadow.


    The thought made her stomach twist and turn. Had she done something wrong? She had repeated her steps over and over again.


    Her steps slowed as she glanced over her shoulder, the hair on the back of her neck prickling with acknowledgement. The wind whispered through the trees, tugging at her long black hair and carrying with it the faintest scent of decay. It was familiar, this was her domain, her sanctuary. But tonight, it felt... off.


    She shook her head, forcing herself to focus on the path ahead. The spell. She must have botched the spell. Maybe the sigils had been too faint, or the lines weren’t perfect. Maybe her blood wasn’t enough. Something was happening.


    She looked down at her palm, the cut still fresh. The thought of trying again tomorrow curled in her chest, equal parts dread and curiosity.


    What was the boy''s name? The shadow hadn’t told her. Was he still a boy, or had the forest twisted him into something fearing and unrecognizable? She thought of the villagers in the story, whispering behind closed doors, and of the creeping roots that had snaked into their homes. Her heart thudded heavier in her chest. He had just been a boy, accepting a gift. And losing everything.


    Ziria forced herself forward, each step echoing louder than it should. She wasn’t scared of the dark. She never had been. It was the place where she thrived, usually, where the living dared not follow. But tonight, something felt very different.


    The lantern flickered sharply as she reached the path leading back to her cottage. She stepped carefully, slower, her boots crunching against the frosted ground. The wind suddenly picked up, and her hair whipped in front of her face, blinding her for a short moment. She pushed it away impatiently, her breath curling in the cold air.


    That was when she heard it.


    A sound behind her.


    Sharp. Quick.


    She froze, her fingers tightening around the lantern until the metal bit into her palm. Slowly, she turned her head, her dark eyes scanning the shadows that stretched long and deep beneath the trees.


    Nothing.


    Her shoulders relaxed a fraction, but the feeling didn’t leave her, the weight of being watched. Followed. Her pulse quickened, but she kept her steps even, refusing to let the unease show in her stride. She wasn''t afraid. She was darkness.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    The path narrowed, the trees on either side looming closer and closer. She caught herself glancing to the edges of the lantern’s glow, where the dark seemed to writhe and stretch.


    And then it came again.


    A wild shriek.


    Not human. Not animal. Loud and sharp.


    It came from behind the nearest tree to her right, the sound high and jagged, like metal scraping against stone. The leaves moved unevenly in the wind, against it not with it.


    Ziria’s breath hitched and her instincts screamed at her to run, but her feet stayed rooted. Curiosity getting the best of her. She wasn''t afraid.


    Her heart hammered so hard in her chest as she turned, holding the lantern high. The tree’s bark gleamed wet in the faint light, but there was nothing there.


    She stepped closer, her pulse like a loud drumbeat in her ears.


    “Who’s there?” she demanded, her voice steady despite the knot tightening in her throat making her lungs restricted.


    No answer. Just the wind, teasing her with faint whispers that sounded almost like words.


    Her fingers brushed the hilt of the knife at her hip as she stepped closer to the tree, the opal warmed against her fingers. Her breath curling in front of her like smoke, the shriek had sounded so close, as if it had been just behind her.


    The shadows shifted slowly at the edge of her vision, and she whipped around, the lantern swinging wildly with her movements. For a small split second, she thought she saw something, something tall and angular, like branches bent into the shape of a man. Watching her carefully.


    But then it was gone.


    Her skin crawled as she stepped back, her boots slipping slightly on the uneven ground. The silence had deepened, the air was so still it felt as though the entire forest was holding its breath.


    Ziria swallowed hard and forced herself to keep moving forward. The cottage wasn’t far now. If she could just make it inside…


    Snap!


    Another sound.


    This one softer. A quiet whisper.


    Her steps faltered, her head snapping toward the noise. It wasn’t the wind this time. It was too deliberate, too close. She felt two eyes burning on her.


    “Ziria.”


    Her name.


    It wasn’t spoken, it was breathed, soft and sharp, curling around her like dark and thick smoke. Dancing around her body, teasing her skin. Nowhere and everywhere.


    She spun around, the lantern’s light swinging wildly across the trees. “Show yourself!” she snapped, her voice cutting hard through the stillness.


    Nothing.


    Her breath came quicker and harder now, her chest tightening as the feeling of being watched grew heavier. The shadows seemed to ripple, darker than they had any right to be casting unnatural forms on the ground.


    “You can’t frighten me,” she said, her voice low and steady. “I thrive in the dark.”


    The whisper came again, softer this time, as though it were moving farther away.


    Ziria clenched her jaw and kept walking, her lantern casting long, trembling shadows along the ground. This was not welcomed. Her cottage was in sight now, the faint outline of it rising against the dark. She quickened her pace, her free hand brushing against the knife at her hip.


    The shriek came again.


    This time, it was closer. Almost touching her neck.


    She spun, her lantern swinging high, but there was nothing there. The shadows stretched long and deep, twisting into shapes that made her stomach churn.


    A laugh. Low and soft, barely more than a breath. Like a boy, and a man.


    It came from everywhere and nowhere, anywhere and all around, echoing through the trees.


    Ziria’s blood turned cold. She wasn''t afraid. She gritted her teeth and turned back toward the cottage, her steps quick and deliberate. Whatever this was, she would face it. Tomorrow.


    But for now, she needed to think. To plan.


    And to figure out why the darkness, for the first time in her life, felt like it was staring back at her.