Chapter 8 - Secrets of Night

The forest loomed around her, whispering secrets she didn't want to hear, its shadowy tendrils reaching for her as she sprinted through the undergrowth. The wind hissed, tugging at the branches, and the leaves whispered secrets she couldn’t understand. The earth beneath her bare feet was rough and uneven, littered with roots and stones that bit into her soft skin. Pain registered in her subconscious, but her conscious mind remained too focused to pay attention.

Her breaths came in shallow gasps, reach exhale merging with the cool night air. Her chest heaved with exertion, but she didn't stop to rest. The forest seemed endless. But she knew it wasn't.

The clearing was ahead.

She didn’t know how she knew, but she did. Just as she knew he was there.

He had to be.

The uneven ground threatened to trip her with every desperate step, but she didn’t stop. Couldn't stop. Even as darkness pressed on and her breathing turned ragged and difficult. She couldn’t stop. Somewhere ahead, beyond the darkness and tangled branches, was a clearing. She knew it with a certainty that defied reason.

Her steps were urgent, frantic, almost feral, as if operating on their own. It was like her life depended on it. And maybe it did. Or maybe it didn't. She didn't know. Didn't know anything other than the feeling that she had to be there at any cost. And fast.

The thought beat in her mind like a war drum, louder than the pounding of her heart. Was it fear? Or desperation? She couldn’t tell anymore. She didn't know. The only truth was the urgency pushing her forward, as if her very existence would slip out of her fingers like sand if she didn't. And maybe it would.

She stumbled, her foot catching on a root, and felt the sting of sharp branches scratching her bare arms. Blood trickled from countless cuts, but she didn’t falter. Didn't slow down. She couldn't. But fear gripped her heart in a vice-like grip. She didn't want to be too late. She couldn't afford to.

Please. A silent plea on her trembling lips, desperate and broken.

She had to reach there. She couldn't fail. She had to. But the ache in her feet was becoming unbearable. And she didn't know how long she could continue without falling. And she wasn't sure she would be able to stand back up if she did. The thought terrified her. She couldn't fail. She had to be there at any cost. There was no other option.

Please, God please. The words escaped her mouth in a broken whisper.

The wind picked up slightly, and she thought she heard her own plea echoing in the air, but she didn't stop to investigate. Her only sane thought was to reach the clearing.

To see him.

And as if the forest itself giggled at her desperation, before finally deciding to take pity on her. A sliver of light finally broke through the merciless darkness. And she almost laughed in relief to see the gnarled trees parting to a clearing ahead.

When she finally burst from the suffocating grip of the forest, she stumbled to a halt, her chest heaving, her eyes wild as they darted around with a desperate hope. But instead of the relief she craved, an oppressive darkness greeted her, thicker than any shadow the forest had cast. The clearing stretched ahead, empty and eerie, devoid of anything she expected.

He wasn't there.

The world around her seemed to exhale, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. She froze, wild hazel orbs darted around the darkness, searching. Her chest heaved as she struggled to catch her breath, her lungs aching, her pulse thundering in her ears. But there was nothing.

Only emptiness.

And,

Darkness. Thick clouds drifting over the moon and cutting off the soft light without mercy.

Where is he?

Confusion seeped into her panic. The silence was almost deafening, thick and unnatural, like the world itself was holding its breath. She shivered, her skin prickling as if unseen eyes were watching. The frantic pounding of her heart echoed in her ears.

He should be there. He should.

She took a hesitant step forward, the ground beneath her feet soft and damp, almost comforting to her aching feet. She scanned the clearing, carefully surveying the dark expanse, searching for something. Anything.

'Where are you?' A broken whisper echoed painfully in her mind, and her fists clenched tightly, trying to hold onto her whirlwind of emotions.

And then she saw it. At the far edge of the clearing, a faint glimmer caught her eye. A pond, or perhaps a lake she couldn't understand, the darkness warping every distance and every object into unrecognisable. But its dark surface was rippling gently in the faint breeze as if whispering her name and luring her closer.

She took a hesitant step forward. Something about the water drew her closer, though every rational thought screamed at her against it. The air grew colder with each step, the kind of cold that sank into her bones and made her limbs feel heavier. Her mind screamed at her to turn back, to run, but her feet refused to obey. They carried her further into the clearing, toward the faint shimmer at the edge of her vision.

She stopped at the edge of a body of water. She couldn’t see it clearly, but the liquid shimmered unnaturally in the faint moonlight breaking through a crack of thick clouds. It was too dark, too dense. Her fingers clenched at her sides as unease blossomed in her chest.

'Something’s wrong,' a hiss of a whisper in her mind, the words as faint as the wind that barely stirred her hair.

Her fists clenched at her sides, nails biting into her palms. The surface wasn’t right. The smell wasn’t right. The very air around it felt wrong.

But she couldn't stop herself, her body operating like puppet on strings without any authority. She knelt by the edge, her fingers hovered above the liquid, trembling.

"Don't," a voice whispered in her mind, urgent and sharp. A shiver coursed through her. But she didn't stop.

Something was wrong about it. Or something wrong in it? She didn't know. But she wanted to know. She shouldn't, but the curiosity seemed to have taken a life of its own, swallowing her reasoning and logic.

A voice in her mind continue to shout at her urgently, a hiss of dread curling through her thoughts.

Don't.

Run.

But her body was as uncooperative as the first step she had taken towards the cursed thing. There was an eerie silence, as if the place itself was holding its breath. She couldn't even hear her own heartbeat as if her heart had stopped, waiting for the event to unfold with an unnatural anticipation.

After a slight hesitation, trembling pale fingers dipped in the cool surface skimming around carefully.

The cool, sticky sensation clung to her skin, and she yanked her hand back sharply, gasping in horror as she registered the sensation. Her fingers weren’t wet; they were stained crimson.

Blood. Thick, sticky, and real. It dripped from her pale fingers like raindrops.

A scream tore from her throat, raw and instinctive, as she staggered to her feet and scrambled back on shaky legs. Her body was trembling and her eyes wide with terror while dark liquid continued to drip from her pale fingers, pooling at her feet.

She tried to distance herself when the surface of the blood stirred, freezing her steps. The liquid ripple and single bubble rose and popped, then another.

Many bubbles rising to the top with an almost playful dance yet a sinister glee.

She swallowed, her heart pounding terribly. Her wide eyes remained fixed on the ripples until...

A hand burst forth the crimson depths, pale and skeletal, grasping at the air like it was searching for something... or someone.

Her terrified shriek pierced the night, and she stumbled back, her footing lost in the chaotic frenzy of her panic. She felt herself falling, her body pitching toward the pond, the blood, the hand.

No, no, no... Please no... Her mind screamed terrified, the skeletal hand rushed up to grab her.

Her eyes squeezed shut, her mind a frantic mess of terror and disbelief and a name escaped her lips, unbidden and foreign. Like a prayer. Like a plea.

And suddenly, there were arms wrapping around her waist, steady and cool. She gasped in relief, her panic momentarily eclipsed by the overwhelming sense of safety that surged through her. And she knew. She knew.

She didn’t need to see him to know who it was.

Her breath hitched, relief flooding her system and she almost sagged in the arms of her savior. She could spend ages in his arms.

'Ages? What?' Her mind was boggled. 'Who was he? What was she thinking? Or doing, really?'

Her long eyelashes fluttered against her pale cheeks before opening slowly. And the hazel orbs meet the most brilliant and deepest midnight eyes that seemed to glow in the darkness. Intense, unwavering and achingly familiar. A promise of safety swirling in the nights infused in those orbs. And she knew... She knew, they would never let her fall. Never let her down.

"You have a bad habit of wandering." He murmured, a deep voice settling in her very soul, lips quirking into an amused smile but a flash of concern in his deep eyes.

"I..." Her voice faltered as she turned back toward the the sea of blood, her words caught in her throat. But the hand was gone, the surface eerily still. Too still.

“There was something,” she whispered, her voice hoarse and hazel eyes filled with fear once again.

“There’s always something,” he murmured, his tone darkening into something colder. Something different. His grip on her waist tightened for a fleeting moment before he let go.

Her brow furrowed in confusion. He was being cryptic, and she couldn't understand the way he surveyed the clearing.

He was staring at something. His expression unreadable but the thousands of nights residing in his eyes burned brighter.

Her confusion deepened, she turned back observing the still surface when she felt it before she saw it. Her eyes snapped to the opposite shore, a figure emerged from the shadows. It was too far to make out clearly, but she felt its smirk, sharp and cruel. She knew it was smirking and even from a distance she felt its gaze, piercing and mocking.

She froze for a moment but then spun back to him for assurance and hope. There was no one. He was gone.

The clearing was empty once again. A cold wind swept through and her body trembled registering the cold that her mind didn't. Her heart clenched in panic.

Gone?

No.

Come back.

Her lips moved, forming a name that was foreign, but tasted familiar, like a memory just out of reach.

The clearing remained silent, the figure unmoving. Her heart raced in terror. That twisted grin burned into her mind and then fog rolled in, soft and cold, brushing against her skin like a ghostly embrace.

For a moment her heart calming into soothing rhythm before stopping entirely. The darkness was alive, swirling with fog.

And like a whisper carried on the wind, she heard it.

“I’m always here, Anaya.”

“Always." a soft whisper, a promise, brushing against her ear, soft as the fog that curled around her feet.

Her breath caught in her throat, and she turned sharply. There, from the dance of darkness and fog emerged glowing eyes. Black, deep as ocean and holding thousands of nights, staring into her soul, filled with an intensity that stole her breath.

Anaya jolted awake, her heart racing and her body drenched in sweat. Her chest heaved as she gasped for air, feeling disoriented and lost. Her hands clutched the damp sheets beneath her, the fabric twisting between her trembling fingers.

The faintest movement caught her eye. A shadow in the corner. She froze, her heart leaping to her throat. She almost shouted. She turned sharply. The room was empty. But for a moment she felt like it wasn't, like there was someone.

Maybe she was overreacting. She let out a shaky breath, running a hand through her disheveled hair.

The bedroom was dark; only a faint glow of moonlight spilled across the floor from the curtains fluttering with the wind. A frown appeared on her face, her gaze snapping to the open window. She didn't remember leaving it that way.

Shaking her head, she threw away the blanket. She swung her legs off the bed and a hiss escaped her lips as her bare feet met the icy marble. She approached the window, her steps slow and measured, the cool breeze brushing against her skin.

As she leaned into the open frame, the fog wrapped around her, brushing against her skin. Cold and comforting, even as a shiver ran down her spine.

And just like that, her thoughts seemed to quieten. As if the very feel of fog on her skin was enough to calm the storm. A reluctant smile came on her lips. She had always loved the fog. But it was getting too cold, and she could feel her blood freezing in her veins.

The cold seeped into her bones, and she shivered, before pulling the window shut with a resounding thud.

She must've forgotten to shut it before sleeping, a fleeting thought crossed her mind without much deliberation.

Her eyes lingered on the forest beyond, silent and alluring. Fog curled lazily, wrapping around the treetops like a ghostly veil, soft and silver under the moonlight. It felt comforting, almost like home. A tired smile curved her lips.

She pressed her forehead against the cool glass, her breath fogging the surface.

She tried to recall what startled her so much, but all she could remember was the eyes. Those soulful eyes. Black as midnight. Several nights of secrets lounging in them. Staring deep in her soul.

"Relax," she muttered to herself, trying to calm her agitation. "Deep breaths, Anaya."

But those midnight eyes refused to leave her mind. She never saw such eyes. In fact, she never talked to boys. Never trusted them. Not after the men of her so called family. She couldn't trust them. In fact, she hated men.

Then why did those eyes feel so familiar and yet so foreign? As if something in those eyes was calling her. Something ancient.

No, no, she couldn't think about any eyes. She shook her head, trying to dispel the haunting image of those eyes from her mind through the physical motion. But they seemed to be etched into her very soul. Like a bond refusing to break.

"It was a dream, just a stupid dream," she gritted in frustration as if forcing her mind to spit out the ridiculous eyes. They weren't ridiculous, something whispered in her mind, but she shook her head once again.

The forest outside seemed to watch her, the fog thickening unnaturally.

"A very stupid dream." she declared, her voice gaining strength.

But as she turned away, a flicker of movement caught her eye. Her heart stuttered. Something glittered in the darkness beyond the window. Something blue. A faint, unnatural blue. Glowing like... Like eyes?

"What the bloody shit," Anaya cursed, then immediately cursed herself for her language. Her heart raced erratically.

What was wrong with her?

Anaya groaned, pressing her fingers to her forehead. "Must be the effect of dream." She convinced herself. "Or... Or stray animal. Yes, animal."

Stepping away from window, her fingers pressing in her scalp as she tried to calm herself.

The wind surged, flinging the window open again and she startled, curses spilling through her lips unbiddingly. Her frustration mounted, and her heart pounded. Fog spilled inside, curling around her and engulfing her in a comforting hug.

She gave out a tired sigh, letting the tension bleed away. Her muscles relaxed and a small smile came on her face. Her mind quieting into peaceful silence. Sometimes she wished she could touch the fog; it always had soothing effect on her.

Letting out a tired breath, she retreated to her bed, snuggling into the warm comforter, hoping to sleep off. But it turned into one of those sleepless nights.

She tossed and turned. The eyes wouldn't leave her mind and she didn't want to think about them. She had been never fascinated to eyes or to anyone before. And she couldn't let a stupid dream change that for her.

Having enough of restlessness, she gave up.

Sighing, she picked her phone from the nightstand and scrolled through the lists of novels trying to decide what to read.

________________

But outside, hidden among the shadows of trees, someone watched. Sharp blue eyes, locked on the now closed window, glittering with quiet intensity.

He could feel the web woven around her, spreading and tightening with increasing intensity, pulling her in a world she didn't belong in.

“Foolish,” he muttered, his voice low. His gaze darkened and his anger palpable.

Stupid. Foolish. Absolutely foolish and idiotic.

Living alone in such a city. In a place so remote and so vulnerable. And so close to forest. It was nothing short of suicide.

She was a magnet for danger, a lamb lost in a den of wolves.

His fists tightening in anger and frustration.

"He was here."

He could sense him, the presence that had eluded him for so long. The presence that had been there, lingering too close, before disappearing into the shadows that conceal him but left its mark.

He had been so close to catching him, so close to ending this. But the bastard was as elusive as smoke.

The fog thickened, obscuring his figure as he turned away.

He had to escalate, soon. Otherwise, everything would turn to ashes by the end of this twisted game.