Chapter 2: The Body That Shouldn’t Exist

The rain had worsened.

Daniel pulled his coat tighter around his frame as he walked down the dimly lit street, his breath clouding in the cold air. The storm had turned the roads slick, and the old chapel loomed ahead, barely visible through the haze.

The confessor's words echoed in his mind.

"The old chapel. He's waiting there."

Every step felt heavier as if something inside him resisted moving forward. The old chapel had been abandoned for years, left to decay after a fire gutted half the structure. No one came here anymore.

So why was he?

Daniel clenched his jaw. He could have dismissed the confession as the ramblings of a disturbed man—but he couldn't ignore the feeling creeping under his skin. The unease, the unnatural certainty in the man's voice.

The last time he had ignored a feeling like this, someone had died.

A Church That Remembers

Daniel pushed open the rusted gate, its hinges shrieking in protest. The wind carried the scent of damp earth and something else… something metallic.

Blood?

He stepped inside, his shoes sinking slightly into the softened ground. The chapel stood before him, its once-grand doors now warped and partially ajar.

Lightning flashed. For a split second, the interior was illuminated—a hollow, rotting husk of a place where faith had long since withered.

Daniel hesitated. Something felt off.

It wasn't just the decay—it was the stillness.

The world outside was alive with the storm, but inside the chapel? Nothing. Not even the whisper of wind.

He stepped forward.

The Confessor's Truth

The floor groaned beneath his weight as he entered. The air inside was thick, stale. Heavy.

Then he saw it.

A figure lay crumpled in the center of the chapel, motionless.

A body.

Daniel's breath hitched. The man's confession—it wasn't a delusion. Someone was dead.

His pulse pounded in his ears as he moved closer, careful with each step. The dim moonlight filtered through the shattered stained-glass windows, casting broken colors across the floor.

The victim was a man, his body twisted unnaturally. His face was turned away.

Daniel hesitated before kneeling beside him.

That was when he noticed the first wrong thing.

Reality Bends

The blood pooled around the body was too fresh—as if the man had died just moments ago. But… that wasn't possible.

Daniel hadn't seen anyone leave the church.

He reached out to check for a pulse, even though he knew he wouldn't find one.

His fingers barely grazed the man's wrist before—

The air shifted.

A sensation like static crawled over Daniel's skin. His vision blurred for just a second—barely a blink.

Then, suddenly—

The body wasn't in the same position anymore.

Daniel's breath caught.

No. That wasn't right.

He hadn't looked away. He hadn't moved. But now the body's hand was stretched out differently.

The head, still turned away, was angled just slightly more toward him.

A slow, creeping dread curled in Daniel's stomach.

He swallowed hard and forced himself to focus. Maybe it was just his imagination. Maybe the storm was messing with his vision.

Maybe.

Then he saw the second wrong thing.

The Face He Shouldn't Know

With a deep breath, Daniel reached out and carefully turned the body's head toward him.

And froze.

The man's face was familiar. Painfully familiar.

Daniel knew him.

But he didn't know from where.

A sharp pain lanced through his skull. A memory—just out of reach.

Flashes of—

A darkened room.

A voice whispering orders.

Blood on his hands.

The images vanished before he could grasp them, leaving only the dull ache behind.

The familiarity was maddening. He knew this man. But no matter how hard he searched his mind, the answer wasn't there.

Or rather…

It had been erased.

Daniel staggered back, his breath shallow. The unease in his chest tightened into something suffocating.

Something was deeply, horribly wrong.

Then—

A sound.

A soft shift of movement behind him.

Someone else was in the chapel.

Watching him.

The Presence in the Dark

Daniel turned sharply, scanning the shadows.

Nothing.

The silence pressed in. His own pulse thundered in his ears. The storm outside roared, but inside the chapel, the air was dead still.

Then—

A whisper.

So faint he almost thought he imagined it.

"Father."

Daniel's breath stopped.

His fingers curled into fists. He wasn't alone.

And then—

The candle beside him flickered out.

The darkness swallowed everything.