Story 908: The Name That Should Not Be Spoken

The manor howled as if the walls themselves were in agony. Draven and Mira clutched their heads as the air rippled, distorting like shattered glass. The creature looming over them let out a guttural shriek, its shifting faces convulsing violently.

The name Mira had spoken was not meant for mortal tongues.

The shadows recoiled, swirling into grotesque forms—half-decayed figures with hollow eyes and clawed fingers, whispering in an ancient, cursed dialect. The walls cracked, revealing a chasm of writhing souls beyond. The library books burst into flames, their ink turning to black smoke.

“Mira, what did you say?” Draven demanded, voice strained.

Mira’s lips trembled. She hadn’t just spoken a name—she had summoned something.

Footsteps echoed from the darkness. Slow. Heavy. Purposeful.

Then, he emerged.