Shadows Of Lies

"Misham, wake up! Breakfast is ready."

A familiar, gentle voice stirred me from sleep. My eyes flew open, searching for the source. Standing there was a woman whose face was etched into the deepest corners of my heart—a face I thought I would never see again.

It was my mother.

Her long black hair framed her face, her kind eyes radiating warmth and love. A lump formed in my throat, tears welling up. My mother—gone for nineteen years—was here before me, as real as the morning light filtering through the window.

"Misham, my son, why are you crying? Did you have a nightmare?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.

I couldn't answer. I threw myself into her embrace, clutching her tightly as sobs wracked my body. Her scent, her warmth, the unconditional love that only she could give—it all overwhelmed me. I had yearned for this moment, dreamed of it during countless lonely nights, and now it was here.

She held me until my tears subsided, her soothing presence calming the storm inside me.

"Are you feeling better now, Misham?" she asked softly, brushing a strand of hair from my face.

I nodded, wiping away the last of my tears. Together, we left my room and made our way to the dining table.

My heart swelled at the sight that greeted me—a plate of my favorite breakfast, the one my mom always used to cook. The smell alone brought back a flood of memories, of better days when I believed I could endure anything because I had her by my side.

But those days were stolen from me. My mother died when I was only seven, shortly after I received the bracelet from the albularyo. Her death was a mystery, the doctors unable to find a cause. They labeled it as "natural causes," but I never believed it.

After her passing, my world crumbled. I was sent to live with my Uncle Ben, a cruel man whose greed knew no bounds. The money my mother left for me fueled his vices—drugs and gambling. When it ran out, he kicked me out without a second thought.

I found refuge with my Aunt Lourdes, whose kindness gave me hope. But fate wasn't done with me. She passed away when I was sixteen. Though she left me some money, it was stolen by Uncle Ben shortly after. At seventeen, I found myself working two jobs just to survive and continue my studies.

Thinking about the past felt like reopening old wounds. But none of that mattered now. Dream or not, my mother was here. I savored every second, hugging her tightly, afraid that if I let go, she might vanish.

Then, everything went black.

A blinding light pierced the darkness, jolting me awake. Pain exploded in the back of my head, sharp and unrelenting. I blinked, trying to focus, but the darkness was suffocating, disorienting.

A faint, muffled groaning cut through the silence—a voice, weak and desperate, as if its owner's mouth was gagged. My heart raced. I tried to move my hands, but coarse rope bit into my wrists, the binds so tight that each movement sent fiery pain through my skin.

Suddenly, the door to the room crashed open. Blinding light poured in, searing my eyes. I squinted, trying to make sense of the looming shadow that entered. The figure was tall, moving with an unsettling calm, each step echoing ominously. As my eyes adjusted, my blood ran cold.

It was him.

The gaunt face, the sunken eyes, the jagged scar—it was the same man from the office, Mr. Reyes's murderer. The light revealed another figure nearby—a man tied to a chair, gagged with a dirty cloth. My stomach lurched as I recognized the security guard from the office. Now, his muffled cries filled the room, his body writhing against his bonds.

The murderer held a gleaming knife in one hand and a small metal tray in the other. A twisted grin stretched across his face, a look of grotesque delight. He approached the guard slowly, savoring the moment.

"No… please, no…" I whispered, my voice trembling.

Without hesitation, he grabbed the guard's head and forced it back. The man's muffled screams intensified as the knife descended. I wanted to look away, but terror froze me in place.

The blade carved into the guard's face with horrifying precision. Blood gushed as the murderer pried one eye from its socket, placing it delicately into the tray. The guard's body convulsed, his gag muffling his screams.

Tears streamed down my face as I watched the second eye follow. The sightless sockets stared blankly, blood spilling out. The metallic stench of blood filled the air, making my stomach churn.

The murderer stepped back, admiring his work with a chilling glee. He turned and left, slamming the door shut, leaving me in the oppressive silence, punctuated only by the guard's faint, wheezing breaths.

I had to act. My wrists screamed in protest as I struggled against the ropes, but they wouldn't budge. The friction deepened the cuts on my skin. Panic threatened to consume me, but the thought of ending up like the guard spurred me on.

The door creaked open again. He was back. His expression remained unchanged – a chilling mask of cruel amusement. He approached the guard, untying the ropes that bound him to the chair but leaving his wrists and ankles tied. Then he turned to me. My breath hitched as he untied the ropes holding me. Before I could react, his iron grip seized my shirt, yanking me forward with brutal force.

He dragged us across the cold, filthy floor, his strength unnatural. My body scraped against the rough surface, and I winced as the bruises on my legs and back flared with pain.

As we moved, I desperately tried to assess my surroundings. Cracked walls, peeling paint, and broken tiles littered the floor. Faint moonlight filtered through shattered windows, casting eerie shadows that danced and writhed in the gloom. The realization hit me like a punch to the gut: we were in an abandoned hospital.

The air was thick with an unnatural chill, a sinister energy that prickled my skin. It wasn't just the murderer; there was something else here, unseen but palpable, its presence heavy and suffocating.

We reached a large room illuminated by the flickering glow of countless black candles. My stomach tightened as I took in the gruesome scene—a massive circle etched into the floor, filled with strange symbols and a pentagram at its center. The markings pulsed with a faint, eerie light, as if alive.

At the center of the circle stood an altar, crude and stained with blood. Resting atop it were the guard's eyes, glistening wetly. Behind the altar loomed a grotesque stone statue of a Batibat, unlike any I had seen depicted in folklore. This one was massive, grotesquely fat, with six twisted horns. Its stone eyes seemed to follow me, glinting with malevolent light.

Then, its chest moved.

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. The stone surface rippled, as though something inside was struggling to break free.

The murderer let out a low, guttural laugh, dragging us closer to the altar. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the statue, its presence exuding an oppressive aura that seemed to press down on me, stealing my breath.

Panic surged through me. I had to escape. But how?

"Nicely done, my love."

The familiar voice echoed through the room, cold and smooth. The murderer turned, his expression shifting into something satisfied, almost gleeful. I followed his gaze. Shadows coalesced, a figure emerging from the darkness.

And there she was—someone I never expected to see, someone I thought I could trust.

"Alyssa?" My voice trembled, disbelief clouding my vision. I stared at her, trying to reconcile the figure before me—the woman with dark eyes, a predatory smile twisting her lips. But this wasn't my Alyssa, not anymore.

She stepped into the dim light, her eyes gleaming with something sinister. Her once-warm voice now dripped with malice.

"Hi, Misham."

Her words cut through me like a blade. There was no warmth in her smile, only dark intent. My heart sank, the trust I once held shattered.

"Why—why are you with him?" I demanded, my voice rising with anger and confusion. "Why are you two doing this?"

Alyssa's smile widened, a cruel glint in her eyes. "Because you… you are the key."

I frowned, my confusion deepening. "What do you mean?"

The man beside her chuckled coldly. He slammed his boot into my chin, sending me sprawling backward onto the hard floor. Pain radiated from my jaw.

"Shut up, mutt," he sneered.

He turned to Alyssa, pulling her into a possessive embrace. He kissed her fiercely, marking her as his own. I stared in stunned silence, anger and disbelief boiling inside me.

"Alyssa… what are you doing?" I whispered, my voice breaking.

She pulled back, a smirk playing on her lips. "We are starting now."

Her voice was colder than I remembered, devoid of any warmth.

"It's almost 3 AM," she said, turning to the man.

He nodded, dark satisfaction etched on his face, and moved towards the blind guard. He grabbed the man by his hair, dragging him forward. I could hear the guard's faint, muffled groans.

With a swift motion, he pulled a knife from his belt. Without hesitation, he placed the blade against the guard's neck, slicing deeply. Blood sprayed outward, spilling over the symbols etched into the floor.

I watched, sickened, as the blood pooled, soaking into the lines of the pentagram.

Alyssa stepped forward, her hand reaching towards me. She held my bracelet. My heart skipped a beat, dread coiling in my chest. I instinctively pulled away, shaking my head, but it was futile. She yanked it off with a ruthless tug.

"No—stop!" I shouted, but it was too late.

The moment the bracelet snapped, a wave of cold dread washed over me. The world seemed to shift, the very fabric of reality tearing apart. The ancient seal that had been keeping something hidden inside me—the power I never understood—was broken.

A sinister energy surged through my veins, filling me with darkness. I trembled, memories flooding back—flashes of spirits, whispers in the night, the constant feeling of being watched.

Alyssa's laughter echoed through the chamber—a chilling sound, devoid of any warmth or humanity. Shadows writhed around us, their forms growing more distinct, more menacing.

Then, I saw them. The creatures.

They rose from the corners, twisting out of the darkness—shadowy figures with glowing red eyes. And behind them, spectral forms emerged—pale, translucent figures, dripping with blood, their eyes sunken and empty. Ghosts.

I staggered back, fear rising in my chest like a tidal wave. The air grew heavy, oppressive. My heart pounded a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

"Why are you doing this?!" I cried out, my voice echoing in the vast chamber.

Alyssa turned to me, her expression cold and resolute.

"Because," she whispered, her voice a venomous hiss, "you are the key to reviving Amaritaklob, the Terror of Slumber—the demon of dreams."

My breath hitched, confusion and terror warring within me. "What… what do you mean?"

She gave a chilling smile. "You'll see," she purred, her voice dripping with malice. Then, with a swiftness that startled me, she grabbed a sledgehammer from the shadows. Before I could even register what was happening, she swung it with terrifying force, the heavy head crashing into my legs.

Agony exploded through my body, and I crumpled to the ground, a scream tearing from my throat. My legs throbbed, a searing pain that made my vision blur.

"What are you doing?!" I shrieked, my voice raw with pain and fear.

Alyssa smiled, a cruel twist of her lips. "Making sure you don't run away," she said calmly. She knelt beside me, her fingers tracing the outline of the circle etched into the floor. "You need to stay within the boundaries of the ritual, Misham. It wouldn't do to have you wandering off."

She untied the ropes binding my wrists and ankles, but the pain in my legs was so intense that I couldn't even think of crawling. Then, with a casualness that chilled me to the bone, she raised the sledgehammer again, bringing it down on my arms with bone-jarring force.

I cried out, my vision swimming with black spots. My arms went numb, useless. I was trapped, helpless, at their mercy.

Alyssa rose, her eyes gleaming with a fanatic light. She raised her arms, and her voice rang out, clear and strong, echoing through the chamber.

"I summon the most powerful demon that has slumbered for thousands of years, the Terror that kills all humans in their dreams, a Demon that can turn dreams into reality. I invite you, Amaritaklob, to consume all the spirits we offer to you to awaken your lost power and use the body of this man as your vessel. Amaritaklob, awaken!"

The air crackled with energy. The shadows danced with renewed vigor, their forms twisting and contorting into monstrous shapes. The ghostly figures surrounding us wailed, their cries a chilling chorus of despair.

The Batibat statue shuddered violently, its stone eyes glowing with an infernal light. Cracks spiderwebbed across its surface, and a deep, guttural growl emanated from within.

Alyssa turned towards the altar, her face alight with triumph. With a swift motion, she plunged the knife into the guard's chest. Blood spurted, painting the altar crimson. The guard's lifeless body slumped forward, his eyes still staring blankly at the ceiling.

One by one, Alyssa sacrificed the other spirits, their forms dissolving into wisps of smoke as their life force was consumed by the growing darkness. The air grew thick with the stench of blood and the cloying sweetness of decay.

The Batibat statue pulsed with a sickening light. The growls intensified, morphing into a high-pitched screech that pierced my eardrums. The ground vibrated beneath me, and the shadows swirled around me, their icy touch seeping into my bones.

I felt a searing pain in my chest, as if something was tearing its way into my soul. My vision blurred, and the world around me dissolved into a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes. A wave of nausea washed over me...

... and then, a jolt of agonizing pain brought me back. Alyssa stood above me, her face a mask of fury.

"You will not interfere!" she hissed. With a swift motion, she plunged the bloody knife into my leg.

I screamed, the pain blinding, overwhelming. My vision swam with black spots, and I thrashed against the floor, but I couldn't escape. Alyssa grabbed my hair, yanking my head back, forcing me to look at her.

"This is your destiny, Misham," she snarled. "Embrace it."

She raised the knife again, and I braced myself for the final blow. But instead, she brought it down on my arm, the blade slicing through flesh and bone. I cried out, my body convulsing with pain.

Alyssa stepped back, her chest heaving. "Now, you are truly bound," she said, her voice a triumphant whisper.

The Batibat statue throbbed with power, its stone eyes burning into me. The shadows danced with a frenzy, their forms growing larger, more menacing. The air crackled with energy, and the ground shook beneath me.

I felt a crushing weight pressing down on my chest, suffocating me. My vision tunneled, and the last thing I saw was Alyssa's triumphant smile before darkness swallowed me whole.