1.The Beginning of The End

A week before my life unraveled, I was just… me.

No prophecies. No eerie visions. No whispers in the dark. Just an ordinary university student drowning in deadlines and overpriced coffee.

Forgettable.

Unremarkable.

A background character in my own life.

And then he appeared.

At first, I only noticed him in glimpses. A shadow on the other side of the street. A figure standing too still in a crowd. I told myself it was nothing, just some random passerby.

But the thing about shadows?

They don't follow you.

By the third time, I stopped brushing it off.

I was leaving class when I spotted him across the street. He wasn't looking at his phone. He wasn't talking to anyone.

He was staring.

At me.

A deep, unmoving stare, like he was trying to memorize my face.

I blinked.

He was gone.

My stomach twisted, but I forced myself to walk away. To forget.

I should have run.

The night before everything changed, I stayed late at the library, finishing an assignment I barely cared about. By the time I packed up, it was past midnight, and campus was empty.

Silent.

Something about the air felt wrong, too thick. Like the night was holding its breath.

I told myself it was just exhaustion. Just paranoia.

I started walking.

Halfway back to my dorm, I passed an alley near the science building. And that's when I felt it.

A cold grip on my wrist.

Too cold.

I inhaled sharply, my body locking up. The hand was wrong. It wasn't just cold, it felt empty. Hollow.

I turned my head, heart hammering—

And froze.

It was him.

But up close, something was wrong.

His skin was too pale. His eyes were black, not dark, not shadowed. Black. Depthless. Wrong.

And when he spoke, his voice didn't come out in words.

It came out in echoes.

"You won't be ready."

I couldn't breathe.

He wasn't whispering. The words dragged out of his mouth, distorted, like a sound caught between radio frequencies.

I wrenched my arm back, but his grip didn't budge.

His fingers tightened.

I felt them sink into my skin. No. Through my skin. Like they weren't solid. Like they were sinking straight into my bones.

I opened my mouth to scream—

And he smiled.

His lips peeled back too wide. His teeth were wrong, too white, too straight, too clean. Like they didn't belong to him. Like they weren't even real.

Then just like that, he let go.

Just like that.

He stepped back, tilted his head.

And walked away.

Not down the alley.

Not across the street.

He walked straight into the darkness—

And disappeared.

My scream ripped through the night.

Within seconds, people came running.

"What happened?"

I turned, panting, pointing down the alley.

"He…he grabbed me, he—"

But the words caught in my throat.

Because the alley was empty.

No retreating footsteps. No flickering shadow.

Nothing.

The security guard frowned. "Who grabbed you?"

I stared.

And that's when I noticed something worse.

The cold.

His grip had been ice. I should have felt it on my skin. But when I looked down at my wrist—

There was nothing.

No red marks. No bruises.

No proof he had ever touched me at all.

No proof he had ever been there.

I shuddered.

Somewhere deep in my gut, I knew—

This was only the beginning.