Chapter 3: Descent into Darkness*
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Chapter 3: Descent into Darkness
Aurora stepped off the bus onto the crumbling sidewalk, the evening sun casting long shadows over the familiar streets. The air carried the faint scent of gasoline and damp earth, signaling the end of another weary day. Adjusting the strap of her bag, she sighed, her mind still replaying Emily's encouraging words.
The brief moment of solace shattered when someone bumped into her with a forceful shove.
Her bag slipped from her grasp, spilling her belongings onto the pavement. She stumbled but caught herself, turning in time to see the man's retreating figure.
"Hey!" she called out, her voice laced with irritation. But the man didn't stop. He didn't even glance back.
Aurora knelt to gather her scattered things, frustration bubbling under the surface. As she reached for her journal, a peculiar sensation washed over her. Something about the man felt familiar—the slope of his shoulders, the quickness of his steps. It was as if their paths had crossed before, but she couldn't pinpoint when or where.
Shaking her head, she dismissed the feeling. Her life already had enough mysteries; she wasn't going to add another to the list.
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The sight of her home made her pause. It stood tired and neglected, its chipped paint and overgrown yard mirroring the chaos inside. She braced herself as she stepped through the door, and as expected, the noise hit her like a physical blow.
Her parents' voices rang out, sharp and angry, bouncing off the walls of the small house. The living room was in disarray—chairs overturned, a picture frame cracked on the floor. Aurora sighed deeply, her chest tightening.
Thirteen years. Thirteen years of shouting matches, of walking on eggshells, of enduring the fallout of her father's unresolved grief. His sister's death had left a gaping wound in him, and he'd never found a way to heal. Instead, his pain had morphed into anger, and the whole family bore the brunt of it.
Aurora didn't even try to intervene anymore. She'd learned the hard way that her efforts to mediate only added fuel to the fire. Now, she just kept her head down and waited for the storm to pass.
Tonight, however, the tension felt unbearable. Her mother's voice cracked with desperation, and her father's words cut through the air like a knife. Aurora couldn't take it any longer.
Grabbing her coat, she slipped out the back door into the cool evening air.
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The woods behind her house had always been her refuge. The towering trees formed a protective canopy overhead, their branches swaying gently in the breeze. Here, away from the shouting and the chaos, she could breathe.
Aurora wandered aimlessly, her feet crunching against the forest floor. She allowed the tears she'd been holding back to fall freely, each drop carrying a piece of her frustration and sadness.
The deeper she walked into the woods, the darker it became. The sun had almost disappeared, leaving behind a dusky twilight. She wiped her eyes and turned to head back, but then she noticed something—something out of place.
A glow.
It was faint at first, like a flicker of candlelight in the distance. But as she moved closer, it grew brighter, more defined. Aurora stopped in her tracks, her heart pounding in her chest.
It wasn't just light. It was a shape—an oval of swirling, golden energy suspended in the air.
A portal.
Aurora's breath caught. The edges of the portal shimmered, pulsating with an almost hypnotic rhythm. Within its frame, the air seemed to ripple and shift, revealing glimpses of a world that wasn't her own. She could see faint outlines—trees, perhaps, but taller and more vibrant than anything she'd ever seen. The sky beyond was a strange mix of colors, hues of lavender and gold blending together in a way that defied logic.
She took a step closer, her body moving of its own accord. The portal hummed softly, the sound low and soothing, like a distant melody calling her forward.
Her hand reached out, trembling as it neared the portal's edge. The air around it was warm, almost inviting. But just as her fingers brushed the glowing surface, a jolt of energy shot through her. She gasped, stumbling backward as the shock coursed through her body.
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Aurora stood there, her chest heaving, her eyes locked on the portal. For a moment, she considered running back the way she'd come. But something kept her rooted in place—a mixture of curiosity and a strange, unshakable feeling that this moment was important.
She glanced at the portal again. It was mesmerizing, beautiful in a way that felt almost unreal. But beneath its allure was a sense of foreboding, a quiet whisper in the back of her mind telling her to be careful.
Summoning her courage, she took another step closer. This time, she didn't reach out. Instead, she simply observed, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. The world beyond the portal seemed alive, brimming with energy. She could almost hear faint sounds—birdsong, maybe, or the rustling of leaves.
Then, out of nowhere, a shadow moved within the portal. It was quick, darting across her line of sight before disappearing into the swirling light. Aurora froze, her pulse racing.
What was that?
Her heart pounded as she took another step back, her instincts screaming at her to leave. But she couldn't tear her eyes away. The portal continued to hum, its light flickering slightly as if reacting to her hesitation.
Aurora's mind raced. Was this real? Had she stumbled upon something extraordinary, or was her exhaustion playing tricks on her?
A sudden, sharp crack echoed through the woods behind her. She spun around, her eyes darting to the trees. The sound could have been anything—a branch snapping, an animal moving through the underbrush—but in that moment, it felt like a warning.
When she turned back, the portal began to shrink. Its edges folded inward, the golden light dimming until it was no more than a faint glow. Then, with a final pulse, it vanished entirely, leaving Aurora alone in the darkness.
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Aurora stood in silence, her thoughts a chaotic swirl. What had she just witnessed? Had she imagined it? But the warmth on her skin, the hum in her ears—those were real.
She turned and made her way back through the woods, her steps hurried and uncertain. The familiar path to her house now felt foreign, as though the world itself had shifted in the wake of what she'd seen.
When she finally reached her back door, she hesitated. The house was quiet now, the argument having burned itself out. But Aurora barely noticed. Her mind was consumed by the portal, by the strange world beyond it.
That night, as she lay in bed, she replayed the scene over and over again. The glow, the jolt of energy, the shadow—every detail etched into her memory.
Sleep didn't come easily. And when it finally did, her dreams were filled with images of the portal, of the strange world it had revealed, and of the shadow that had moved within it.
Deep down, Aurora knew that her life had changed in that moment. The portal was gone, but its presence lingered in her thoughts, a silent promise of mysteries yet to be uncovered.