The Stranger Shadows

Siara's apartment was quiet. As always, alone.

The distant hum of the city echoed faintly, and the night breeze gently swayed the curtains. Everything was normal, yet, something felt... off.

Standing by the door, Siara's fingers still clenched around her keys.

A strange sensation crawled over her skin, an invisible gaze, watching.

She took a deep breath.

"Maybe it's just exhaustion..."

Brushing off the uneasy feeling, she tossed her bag onto the couch, switched on the lamp, and walked toward the kitchen.

The soft clink of glass echoed as she picked up a water tumbler.

She took a sip, but the coldness settling in her chest, it wasn't just from the water.

Leon.

There was something unsettling about him. The way he walked, the way he carried himself—it wasn't that he was merely blending in, but rather as if he belonged there all along.

And then, Mr. Romano's words—"Leon is special."

"Special? That's not an answer; that's a riddle."

Frustrated, she set the glass down with a thud.

"I just need sleep. Maybe things will make sense in the morning."

With that, she made her way to her bedroom.

Switching off the lamp, she lay down on her bed.

Darkness embraced her like an old companion.

Slowly, her thoughts drifted, pulling her toward sleep.

And then... a sound.

Faint. So soft that her ears might have deceived her.

Siara's eyes fluttered open.

Did that… come from inside the room?

Her breath hitched.

She stayed still, listening.

Another sound.Faint. But this time, closer.

Right beside her bed.

A chill ran down her spine.

"No… this is impossible. I locked the door..."

Cautiously, her gaze shifted toward the source of the sound.

Her heart stopped.

A shadow.

Tall. Unmoving. Watching her.

The darkness felt thicker now.

As if swallowing even the faint silver glow of the moonlight.

Her body refused to move.

Every instinct screamed at her to run—but fear had caged her in.

And then, the shadow moved.

Fast.

Suddenly, a blurred figure lunged toward her.

Siara barely had time to react.

She rolled off the bed just as something sharp sliced through the air—right where her head had been moments ago.

A cold, unnatural wave crashed over her.

Like ice seeping into her bones.

She hit the floor, pain jolting through her knees—but there was no time to process it.

It was coming again.

Faster this time.

Siara ducked, narrowly dodging another deadly strike aimed directly at her.

"What the hell is this?!"

Then—movement.

But from the opposite side. Someone else was there.

Another shadow.

But this one was different.

Faster. So fast that Siara's eyes struggled to track it.

Then… a glint.

A fleeting flash of silver.

A knife?

A sharp cry tore through the room.

Deep. Terrifying.

Inhuman.

The shadow that had attacked her convulsed as if burning from within.

Writhing in agony.

And then, It shattered.

Dark smoke billowed, twisting into nothingness.

Silence fell. Siara gasped, her heart hammering against her ribs.

She slowly lifted her head, scanning the room.

But there was no one.

Whoever had saved her, was gone.

Like a ghost melting into the darkness.

Her pulse still thundered in her ears.

"Who… was that?"

Her gaze drifted to her disheveled bed, the toppled nightstand.

The fight was real—undeniable.

But the one who had saved her… had vanished.

"Did someone really come? Or… am I imagining things?"

Her mind insisted that this wasn't a dream. It happened. Something terrifyingly real.

But the shadow—the one that had protected her—who was it?

The room was still as quiet as before.

Yet, the silence now felt… different.

Like an illusion.

Like a forced calm.

Siara's breaths were uneven.

Her fingers absentmindedly brushed over her forearm, where a faint sting lingered.

A scratch.

Not deep, but real. As if something had marked her.

Her breath hitched.

Another wave of dread coiled in her chest.

Then, a chilling thought struck her.

"If there's a mark… is there anything else?"

With trembling hands, she switched on the lamp.

Warm light spilled across the room, pushing back the darkness.

And then—Siara saw it.

On the mirror.

At first, she thought it was just a smear.

But as her vision adjusted, the truth sent ice through her veins.

The words were etched onto the glass.

As if carved by invisible hands.

"It has begun."

Her grip on the blanket tightened.

"Who wrote this?" she whispered.

But there was no one to answer.

Her mind raced.

The strange feeling before. The shadows.

The attack. The unknown figure who saved her.

And now… this message?

Her eyes darted back to her arm. The sting still lingered.

The mark. The words.

The attack. This wasn't over.

No. This was only the beginning.

But for now, she needed to sleep.

No matter how bizarre, no matter how impossible it all seemed, her body demanded rest.

"Maybe it's just… a trick of the mind."

She forced herself to switch off the lamp.

Darkness reclaimed the room.

Siara pulled the blanket over herself, her fingers still trembling slightly.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

Just a few hours.

Then morning would come.

But as she drifted toward sleep… she felt it.

A presence.

Somewhere in the room.

Hidden in the shadows.

Breathing. Watching.

Siara didn't move.

If it was real… what would happen if she acknowledged it?

Nothing changed. The room remained still.

The darkness remained deep.

Yet within that darkness, Something was there.