Story 936: The Whispering Dark

A thick, cloying darkness swallowed everything. It wasn’t just the absence of light—it was alive. It pressed against their skin, filled their ears with a low whisper, and made the air feel like wet, rotting fabric.

Draven gritted his teeth, gripping his shotgun. “Mira? Zara?” His voice barely carried. The darkness ate sound, swallowed it whole.

A whisper brushed against his ear. Draven…

He spun, firing. The blast lit the void for a fraction of a second, revealing shifting shadows with too many hands, too many eyes.

Then the light was gone.

Something clawed at his back.

Mira’s Descent

Mira stumbled blindly, clutching the Cursed Book. The whispers had become voices, each one pleading, screaming, weeping.

“Help us.”

“Save me.”

“Stay.”

Cold fingers brushed against her wrist. She screamed, pulling away. But there was nowhere to go.

She reached into the darkness, flipping through the pages of the Cursed Book. Her fingers trembled. The symbols shifted, unreadable.