Chapter 7: Whispers in the Dark

Sophia barely slept that night. Ethan's revelation had shattered any sense of normalcy she had clung to since arriving in Havenwood. Every shadow in her room seemed to shift, every creak of the house felt like an impending threat.

She lay awake, staring at the ceiling, her mind replaying Ethan's words: "If you see the Mark again—run."

But she couldn't just run. Not when there were still so many unanswered questions. Why had she been drawn to Havenwood in the first place? Why did the Mark seem to haunt Ethan's paintings—and now her life?

The wind howled outside, rattling the windows. Sophia turned onto her side, trying to push the thoughts away. She finally drifted into a restless sleep, only to wake with a start hours later.

A noise.

Her heart raced as she strained to hear it again. It was faint but distinct—a low, rhythmic tapping coming from downstairs.

For a moment, she considered staying in bed, pretending she hadn't heard it. But curiosity—and a gnawing sense of dread—pushed her to her feet. She grabbed her phone, its flashlight cutting a narrow beam through the darkness, and crept toward the stairs.

The tapping grew louder as she descended. It was coming from the front door.

Sophia swallowed hard. She tightened her grip on her phone, her free hand trembling as she reached for the doorknob.

She hesitated. Last time you opened the door, it didn't end well.

But the tapping stopped, replaced by an eerie silence. She held her breath and pulled the door open a crack.

Nothing.

The porch was empty, the street beyond eerily quiet. Yet something didn't feel right. She stepped outside, her bare feet cold against the wooden planks, and shone her light around the porch.

A trail of dark smudges—mud, or something else—led from the steps to the edge of the porch. Her chest tightened as she followed them to the side of the house, her flashlight trembling in her hand.

The smudges ended at the living room window.

She froze. The glass was fogged with condensation, and there, smeared in the middle of the pane, was the Shadow Mark.

Sophia staggered back, her mind racing. Someone had been watching me.

She ran inside, slamming the door and locking it, her breathing ragged. She grabbed her phone and dialed Ethan's number.

He answered after two rings, his voice groggy but alert. "Sophia?"

"There's something outside," she whispered, her voice shaking. "The Mark—it's on my window."

"Lock your doors," he said sharply. "I'll be right there."

Sophia hung up and double-checked the locks on every door and window. The house felt suffocatingly silent, the ticking of the wall clock the only sound.

Minutes felt like hours before she heard the crunch of footsteps on the gravel driveway. She peered through the peephole, relief flooding her when she saw Ethan. She unlocked the door and pulled him inside.

"It was there," she said, motioning toward the window. "Someone left the Mark."

Ethan walked over, his expression grim as he examined the smudge. "It's fresh."

"Do you think it's the same person who left the note?"

"Maybe," he said, but his tone was evasive.

Sophia narrowed her eyes. "You're not telling me everything."

Ethan turned to her, his face shadowed with concern. "I think the Mark wasn't meant for the house. It was meant for you."

Her stomach dropped. "What does that mean?"

"It means the shadows are aware of you now," Ethan said quietly. "And they're trying to pull you in."

Sophia's mind reeled. "Pull me in? Why me?"

"I don't know," Ethan admitted. "But they don't Mark people without a reason. They want something from you."

Her voice trembled. "How do we stop them?"

He hesitated. "We can't. Not completely. But we can keep you safe. You just have to trust me."

She met his gaze, searching for answers in his eyes. "And if I don't?"

Ethan's expression darkened. "Then you'll end up like the man in the woods—or worse."

A chill ran down her spine, but she refused to let fear consume her. "I'm not giving up," she said, her voice firm. "There has to be a way to fight this."

Ethan stared at her for a long moment, then nodded. "If you're staying, we have to prepare. And you'll have to follow my lead."

"Fine," she said. "What do we do first?"

He glanced toward the window, the Shadow Mark still faintly visible. "We start by finding out why the shadows want you—and how far they're willing to go to get you."