Chapter 2: A Nightmare!
The air was thick with an unnerving scent of blood, overwhelming my senses to the brink of despair. In a moment of desperation, I sought refuge in the nearest public restroom, its existence previously unnoticed by me, and succumbed to the loud echoes of my own retching.
The restroom's dim light cast long shadows, offering a fleeting sense of solace as I emptied my turmoil into the uncaring void. Intent on returning the next day to erase this moment of weakness, a chilling realization stopped me cold—what I had expelled was not the usual evidence of sickness, but a terrifying, blood-black substance.
Outside, the storm raged on, indifferent to my plight, as a chilling dread took hold. Cold sweat traced paths down my cheeks, betraying my fear as I staggered back, only to collide with an unexpected presence. A cold body stood behind me, its breath a ghostly caress against my neck, arms enveloping me in an unwanted embrace.
His proximity sent shivers down my spine, the sensation of hair brushing against my face prompting an instinctual struggle for freedom. Tears betrayed my terror as I whispered, "Let me go..."
"Don't be afraid," he murmured, his voice a cold whisper that sought to calm the storm within me.
The events that unfolded into the night dissolved into darkness, leaving my memory as barren as a winter's field.
Discovery came with the morning light, the cleaning lady finding me collapsed at the dormitory's entrance, my complexion ghostly, breaths shallow. She nearly alarmed abd summoned the authorities, convinced a tragedy had befallen me.
Yet, normalcy reigned within the dormitory's walls, the corridors clean, my classmates untouched by the night's horrors. No evidence of foul play disturbed our reality; the previous night's terror seemed nothing more than a nightmare's cruel jest.
From that day forward, my vitality waned as if drawn by an unseen force. Food and drink turned to ash in my mouth, and my bed became my world.
On a day shrouded in silence, with my roommate away, sleep claimed me, pulling me into its depths. Awakening to darkness, confusion reigned. This was not the familiar embrace of my bed but a cold, hard slab in an empty hall, shrouded in white cloth.
Despite the stillness, the cloths danced as if caressed by an unseen breeze, their movements sending waves of cold that enveloped me, forcing me to draw inward, seeking warmth in the cold embrace of the unknown.
Amidst the shroud of fear that enveloped me, curiosity—a traitor in its own right—beckoned me to steal glances around the eerie expanse of the hall. It wasn't long before my gaze was inexorably drawn to the center of the room, where an object of imposing presence commanded attention.
A coffin, vast and seemingly ancient, lay there as if it were the heart of the hall itself.
Despite the alarm screaming within me, urging me to flee from this nightmare, my limbs betrayed me, moving with a mind of their own towards the coffin in slow, halting steps.
With each step closer, the reality of what lay within the coffin became horrifyingly clear. It cradled a corpse, a body so withered it was nearly skeletal, yet adorned in a ceremonial robe of white, its fabric intricately embroidered with patterns in black thread—an eerie elegance in the face of decay.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed two tablets on a platform adjacent to the coffin. A jolt of terror shot through me as I realized one bore my name. The desire to inspect it closer gripped me, but before I could act on this impulse, the face within the coffin stirred, its gaze, devoid of life, somehow finding mine.
A scream tore from my throat as the skull seemed to stare directly into my soul. Panic set in, and as I stumbled backward, my balance betrayed me, sending me crashing to the cold floor.
Then, as if conjured from the shadows themselves, a figure emerged before me. Startled, I attempted to recoil, but he advanced. With a swift motion, he grasped my neck, lifting me effortlessly off the ground.
The grip was unyielding, stealing the breath from my lungs, his visage—a blend of perfection and wrath—hovering inches from mine. Desperately, I fought against his hold, but it was futile. His hand, as cold and flawless as marble, tightened, a grim promise of a fatal embrace.
In this moment of terror and disbelief, our eyes locked—a tumultuous sea of emotions crashing against the inevitability of fate.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone