Secret in The shadows

Chapter 3: Secrets in the Shadows

The morning after the shadow wraith attack, Avery felt like she hadn't slept at all. Her eyes were heavy, her limbs sore, and her mind spun like a whirlwind. She kept replaying the moment the shadow had burst into the apartment — those glowing red eyes fixed on her.

Liam tossed a steaming mug of coffee in front of her. "You look like death," he said flatly.

"Gee, thanks," Avery muttered. She took a sip, grateful for the warmth. "I still don't get it... you said those things couldn't enter here."

"They're not supposed to," Liam said. He stood by the window, peering outside like he expected something to leap from the shadows. "This place is warded — I carved protection runes into the walls myself."

"Then why did it get in?" Avery asked.

"That's what worries me," Liam muttered.

Avery's eyes drifted to her sketchbook, still sitting on the table. The twisted gate she had drawn seemed darker than before, like the ink had deepened overnight.

"Whatever's happening," Liam continued, "it's getting worse. The cult isn't just preparing their ritual — they're speeding it up."

"How do you know?"

Liam turned and tossed a newspaper onto the table. The front page showed a grim headline:

THIRD BODY FOUND NEAR GOLDEN GATE BRIDGE — VICTIM BEARS MYSTERIOUS MARK

"That's three people in one week," Liam said darkly. "The symbol carved into their chests — it's the cult's mark. They're taking souls to fuel their ritual."

Avery's stomach twisted. "I... I don't understand. Why are they killing people?"

"It's part of their plan," Liam said. "To open a gate like this, they need more than just magic — they need power. Human souls carry energy — enough to strengthen whatever they're summoning."

Avery swallowed hard. "So... they're sacrificing people?"

"Exactly," Liam said grimly.

A sick feeling settled in Avery's chest. The cult wasn't just dangerous — they were ruthless.

"What if... what if I can stop them?" Avery asked quietly.

Liam stared at her. "You?"

"I mean... I'm connected to whatever's happening," she said. "The ghosts keep reaching out to me. Maybe I can figure out what they're trying to tell me."

"That's risky," Liam warned. "Opening yourself to spirits like that... they can take advantage of you."

Avery clenched her fists. "I don't have a choice. People are dying."

Liam sighed, running a hand through his hair. "If you're serious about this... you're gonna need training."

Later that afternoon, Avery found herself standing in Liam's storage room — which looked more like a chaotic library. Old books lined the shelves, mixed with jars of strange herbs, crystals, and rusted knives.

"This place could really use some cleaning," Avery muttered.

"Focus," Liam said firmly. He set a small, silver bowl on the table and lit a candle beside it. "We're going to try a simple spirit-summoning technique."

"Simple?" Avery raised an eyebrow.

"Simple for me," Liam corrected. "You just follow my instructions."

He sprinkled a pinch of salt in the bowl, then motioned for Avery to sit.

"Close your eyes," Liam instructed. "Clear your mind. Focus on the spirits you've seen — the ones trying to reach you."

Avery took a slow breath and shut her eyes. At first, all she heard was the distant hum of the city outside.

But then...

Whispers.

Soft at first — like wind stirring through dry leaves — then louder. The voices tangled together, murmuring, crying, begging.

"Help us... find the gate... save us..."

A cold breeze brushed against her skin. Her fingers trembled.

"Stay calm," Liam said softly. "Don't fight it."

The whispers grew clearer. Avery saw flashes of faces — pale and hollow — drifting through her mind.

Then one voice cut through the others.

"Avery..."

Her eyes snapped open. "Did you hear that?"

Liam's face was tense. "What did it say?"

"It... it said my name," Avery whispered. "Like it knew me."

The candle flickered wildly, and the silver bowl trembled on the table.

Suddenly, the shadows in the room twisted — and a figure began to form.

The fisherman's ghost appeared, his waterlogged face twisted in desperation.

"The gate..." he rasped. "The gate is opening... they are calling him... the dark one..."

A chill swept through the room.

"Who's the dark one?" Liam demanded.

But the fisherman's gaze locked onto Avery. "They know you... they're coming for you..."

With a final breathless whisper, the ghost vanished — and the candle's flame snuffed out.

Avery sat frozen, her pulse racing.

"They know me?" she said shakily. "What... what does that mean?"

Liam's face was grim. "It means you're more involved than we thought."

That evening, they pored over Liam's books, searching for anything about the "dark one." Avery's hands shook as she turned the brittle pages.

Finally, Liam stopped on a faded illustration. It showed a towering figure cloaked in black mist, its face hidden behind a twisted mask.

"The Devourer," Liam said grimly. "An ancient demon — older than most witches and spirits. He's powerful enough to rip through the veil between worlds — if someone opens a gate big enough to let him through."

"You think that's what the cult's trying to do?" Avery asked.

Liam nodded. "If they succeed... the city won't survive."

Avery swallowed hard. "So... what now?"

"We find the gate," Liam said. "And we destroy it before they finish their ritual."

The next day, Avery and Liam headed toward Portsmouth Square. The busy plaza buzzed with tourists and street performers, but Avery couldn't focus on any of it. Her mind kept drifting back to the ghost's warning — They know you... they're coming for you...

"Stay close," Liam muttered as they weaved through the crowd.

"I'm not going anywhere," Avery mumbled.

But something was wrong. The air felt heavier — thicker — as if the city itself was holding its breath. Avery's head started to pound, and a cold shiver ran down her spine.

Then she saw them.

Figures in dark cloaks, standing near a stone monument at the center of the plaza. They blended in almost perfectly — like shadows — but Avery knew better.

"It's them," she whispered.

Liam followed her gaze. "Yeah... and they're watching you."

One of the cloaked figures turned its head — and Avery's blood turned to ice.

The figure's face was hidden by a mask — the twisted, grinning face of a demon.

"Avery..." Liam grabbed her arm. "We need to go. Now."

Before they could move, the masked figure lifted a hand — and the crowd seemed to darken around them.

The air turned icy cold. Shadows stretched across the pavement like living tendrils.

And then Avery heard the whisper — a cold, hollow voice that seemed to crawl inside her mind.

"We found you..."

The voice slithered through Avery's mind, cold and sharp like ice down her spine. The cloaked figure's mask seemed to twist and grin wider as the shadows stretched closer.

"Avery!" Liam's voice cut through her fear. He grabbed her wrist and yanked her back. "Move!"

The plaza seemed to spin as Avery stumbled behind him. The crowd, once lively and noisy, felt distant — like she was running through a bad dream. The shadows slithered after them, curling over the pavement like black smoke.

"They're following us!" Avery gasped.

"I know!" Liam growled, weaving through the crowded streets. "Just keep moving!"

They ducked into a narrow alley, the brick walls cold and damp against Avery's back as they pressed themselves into the shadows. Liam peered around the corner.

"Are they still out there?" Avery whispered.

Liam nodded grimly. "Two of them. They're spreading out — looking for you."

Avery's heart pounded so hard it felt like her ribs might crack. "Why me?" she asked. "Why are they so focused on me?"

"Because you're a threat," Liam said. "You can see what they're doing — what they're trying to summon. The cult's magic relies on secrecy. If you expose them, they lose power."

"I didn't ask to be part of this," Avery muttered.

"You didn't have a choice," Liam said. "But now that you're involved... you need to fight back."

A sound echoed down the alley — footsteps, slow and steady. The cultists were getting closer.

Liam swore under his breath. "Okay... okay... there's a fire escape up there." He pointed to a rusted metal ladder halfway down the alley wall. "I'll boost you up."

"And what about you?" Avery asked.

"I'll be right behind you," Liam promised.

The footsteps grew louder.

"Go!" Liam whispered.

Avery sprinted to the fire escape, her heart hammering in her chest. She grabbed the cold metal rung, but her fingers slipped.

"Come on, come on..." she muttered.

"I see you..." a voice hissed from behind.

Avery turned and froze.

The masked figure stood at the mouth of the alley, his twisted grin gleaming beneath the hood. His fingers stretched toward her — long, sharp, and blackened like burnt wood.

"Liam!" Avery gasped.

Before the masked man could step closer, Liam hurled a glass vial at the ground. It shattered with a sharp pop, and smoke exploded in a thick cloud. The cloaked figure staggered back, coughing and cursing in a language Avery didn't recognize.

"Now would be a good time to climb!" Liam barked.

Avery didn't hesitate this time. She grabbed the fire escape ladder and scrambled upward, her sneakers skidding on the metal. Liam followed close behind, leaping up just as a twisted black tendril snaked toward his ankle.

The masked figure reached out again, but this time Liam pulled a silver dagger from his belt and slashed downward. The shadow tendril recoiled with a hiss.

"We're not dying today," Liam growled.

They reached the rooftop, both gasping for breath. Avery's lungs burned, and her hands ached from gripping the ladder so tightly.

"Are they... are they still down there?" she asked between gasps.

Liam crawled to the edge and peeked over. "Yeah," he muttered. "They're still looking. But they won't find us up here."

"What were they?" Avery asked.

"Cult enforcers," Liam said. "Not human anymore — more shadow than flesh. They serve the Devourer."

Avery stared at him. "You're telling me those things are demon hybrids?"

"Pretty much," Liam said.

"Great," Avery groaned. "So we're up against soul-stealing witches and demon-shadow-monsters?"

"Yep," Liam said, wiping sweat from his face. "Welcome to the club."

Back at Liam's apartment, Avery paced restlessly. Her mind was racing — the masked cultist's voice still echoing in her head.

"We found you..."

"You're gonna wear a hole in the floor," Liam muttered from the kitchen, stirring a mug of tea.

"I can't help it," Avery snapped. "They're hunting me, Liam! They knew who I was — they spoke to me!"

"That's what worries me most," Liam said grimly. "They wouldn't risk exposing themselves in public unless they were desperate."

"So what do we do?"

Liam sighed and placed the mug in front of her. "First, you're going to drink this before you pass out."

Avery scowled but took a sip. The tea was warm, earthy, and oddly calming.

"Next," Liam continued, "we're going to figure out why you're so important to them. There's gotta be a reason they're targeting you specifically."

Avery paused. "The fisherman's ghost... he said something about 'the dark one' — that they were calling him."

"That fits," Liam said. "The Devourer is their endgame."

"But why me?" Avery asked again. "I'm not some powerful witch or demon hunter — I'm just... an artist."

"You're more than that," Liam said quietly. "The spirits know it... and so does the cult."

The room fell silent. Avery stared down at her tea, her thoughts spinning.

"I don't know if I can do this," she said softly.

"You can," Liam said firmly. "And you're not alone."

For the first time all day, Avery felt a flicker of hope.

That night, Avery couldn't sleep. She lay on the worn-out couch, staring at the ceiling. The room was quiet — no whispers, no flickering shadows — but something still felt wrong.

Finally, she reached for her sketchbook. Drawing usually helped calm her nerves.

Her pencil moved across the page — swirling lines and jagged shapes — until something familiar began to form.

It was the twisted gate.

But this time, something new appeared — a symbol carved into the stone archway. A circle of sharp lines, almost like fangs, surrounding a single eye.

"What is this?" Avery whispered to herself.

Suddenly, the room went cold. The candle on the table flickered violently — and the shadows seemed to deepen.

Then a whisper — soft, yet sharp as a blade — slid into her mind.

"The gate is opening... and you will be the key."

Avery's hand jerked back from the page.

The symbol she'd drawn now glowed faintly in the dim light.

And outside the window... something moved in the shadows.