I wrote this short story about one of my OCs: Elixir Monroe. If you've been one of my followers for a while you might know who this is-- hope you enjoy! By the way, haven't made any large edits yet, so please feel free to give feedback!!! ___________________________________________ Elixir sat up, gasping, woken from sleep. The heavy air clung to her skin, which was damp with sweat, and her heart hammered as if it had carried her miles in a single breath. Shadows flitted across the walls, bending with the sway of her lantern’s dying flame, and for a moment she could not tell if the shapes belonged to her chamber or to the dream that had jeered her awake. The silence pressed in, vast and unnatural. Even the insects chirping sounds into the night had hushed, as if the world itself were listening. She clutched her shirt, trying to ground herself, but that phantom echo of the voice still rang in her skull—low, distorted, as though spoken through stone and dirt. Fragments of her dream lingered, sharp and jagged: fire devouring the horizon, towers splitting apart like brittle bones, and those eyes—huge, fathomless, waiting in the dark. Watching her. Judging her. She blinked hard, shaking her head, but the vision still bled into the waking world. The edges of her room seemed to ripple, distort, like heat rising off a desert road, creating a deadly mirage. For an instant she thought she saw something moving there, in the corner, just beyond the lantern’s reach. Her throat tightened. It was only a dream, she told herself. But even as she whispered the words, she knew she was lying. Dreams didn’t leave marks burned into the mind. Dreams didn’t follow you into waking. And dreams didn’t call you by your true name. Elixir froze. A ripple in the air started towards her, a soft hissing noise filling the air. Her breath hitched in her throat. Smoke poured out of the corner of the room, and the hissing intensified– and then it was gone. No smoke, no figure—only the corner of her room, quiet and ordinary in the weak wash of moonlight. She stared, unblinking, until her eyes burned and watered, certain that if she looked away even for an instant, something would move again. Her heart pounded in her ears. She pressed her palms against his face, dragging them down until her fingers trembled at her jaw. You’re losing yourself, she thought. It was only a dream, nothing more. But the words felt forced, unconvincing. She could still feel those wide eyes on her, as if they’d etched themselves into the back of her head. When she closed her eyes, the gaze returned—clearer than before, sharper, like it belonged not to some nightmare thing but to a memory. A thought coiled in her mind, like a snake about to strike, poisonous yet undeniable: What if it hadn’t been a dream? What if it had been a warning of something yet to come? Elixir lurched to her feet, the sheets tangling around her legs. She tore them off and stumbled to the far wall, pressing her back flat against the cold stone. Her breath came too fast, too shallow, too ragged, and she pressed her hands to her temples as though she could force the visions out of his skull. “No,” she whispered, then louder, “No. That isn’t real. It can’t be.” Her voice cracked on the last word, and the sound of it startled her, sharp and foreign in the silence. She began to pace, bare feet treading against the stone floor, muttering fragments of reassurance between clenched teeth. Every few steps, she turned back toward the shadowed wall, half-expecting something to rise from it again. At last, she snatched the lantern from the table. The sudden light flared against the walls, wild and uneven, but it steadied her. She raised the lantern high, thrusting it toward the corner as if it were a weapon. “Show yourself,” she whispered, voice unsteady. Her hands trembled, but she did not lower the light. “If you’re there—if you’re real—show yourself!” The silence answered. Empty, heavy. Yet her skin crawled as those unseen eyes still watched from the dark. The silence pressed harder, cumbersome on her chest. Her grip on the lantern slickened with sweat. She couldn’t bear it anymore—the waiting, the watching, the thought of those eyes hiding just out of reach. With a sudden scream of frustration, Elixir hurled the lantern into the corner. Glass shattered, flame leapt, and fire bloomed across the floorboards in a sudden rush of light. The shadows scattered framing her room shuddered, writhing as if alive, and for an instant she was certain she saw a shape recoil—long-limbed, twisting—before it dissolved into black smoke.
The fire roared, snapping her back to the present. Heat surged against her face. She stumbled backward, coughing, the acrid sting of burning oil filling her lungs. What have I done? Elixir stood frozen, firelight flickering across her wide eyes. The room crackled and hissed as flames licked along the boards, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Her gaze stayed fixed on that corner, on the place where—just for an instant—something had flinched back into the dark. Smoke curled upward in slow, deliberate spirals. It should have scattered, broken apart, yet the odd patterns held, shifting with a strange, intentional rhythm, like the slow unfurling of a hand. Her heart slammed against her ribcage. Did I see it? Or did I want to see it? To know that I’m not descending into lunacy? The fire grew hotter, snapping and clawing higher, but still she lingered, transfixed. The shadows seemed thicker now, clinging stubbornly to the edges of the room even as the blaze brightened. The lantern’s wreckage hissed and steamed on the floor, and for a heartbeat, she thought she saw the tiny glass shards glint with the reflection of red eyes—watching, unblinking. She stumbled back, pressing against the wall opposite the fire, but she didn’t dare to look away. The paralyzing certainty dug its claws in deeper: if she turned her back now, if she looked away even for a moment, the shadows clinging in the darkest parts of the room would move. Her eyes burned, hot tears spilling down her cheeks, but she held her stare. The smoke from the fire clawed at her throat, each breath shallower than the last. Her chest ached with the effort of stillness, of waiting for something that refused to show itself. And then—she blinked. It wasn’t a long blink, just the twitch of exhausted muscles, but it was enough to provoke the lingering shadows. When Elixir’s eyes snapped open again, they were closer. Not by much, but enough to twist her stomach into knots. They had shifted, leaning forward, stretched longer, more sharp, and seeming… hungrier. A sob tore from her throat—and she bolted. She lunged away from the wall, past the flames extending for her body, stumbling for the door. Her shoulder slammed against the frame as she wrenched at the handle with trembling and sweaty hands. Behind her, something moved. She didn’t see it, didn’t dare turn around, but she felt it—a surge in the air, cold rushing against her back despite the tendrils of flame licking behind her, as if the shadows themselves had risen and were reaching towards her. She flung the door open and staggered into the corridor, lungs heaving with every raspy breath she took, firelight spilling out behind her. But even here, away from the blaze, the darkness stretched long and deep. The air here was cooler, but the relief of coldness never came. She pressed a hand to the stone wall, forcing herself forward, but the corridor floors seemed to stretch beneath her feet, each step longer, more difficult, as though the place itself wanted to keep her here forever, to prevent her escape. Behind her, the fire crackled—and, beneath it, a sound so soft yet so unmistakable, came the sound of rocks and metal dragging across stone. She didn’t look back. She didn’t need to. The shadows were following. Her steps broke into a desperate sprint, but the realization hollowed her chest: she hadn’t abandoned them in her room. She had only carried them with her. Every flicker of feeble light, every patch of dark along the corridor, moved at the edges of her vision. She could feel the shadows drawing impossibly closer, just out of sight, pressing against her thoughts. And the more she ran, the louder the whispers grew, threading through her mind like a blunt needle: You cannot leave us. We are everywhere you dare not look. Her sprint faltered. The hallway stretched on, endlessly long, lanterns quivering like stars scattered unevenly through a pitch-black night sky. Her lungs prickled and stung, but no matter how far she ran, the end never came closer. She slowed, stumbled, pressed a shaky hand to the cool wall. The stone was hard beneath her touch—or was it? For a moment, it felt soft, pliable, like skin. She snatched her hand back, choking on a cry. Her sharp breathing echoed around her, but the sound warbled strangely, reverberating too many times, as if she were trapped in some cavernous cave instead of a narrow hall. She clutched her head, squeezing her eyes shut. It’s not real. It’s not real. But when she opened her eyes again, the lanterns were gone. Only darkness stretched before her and behind her, endless, alive, hungry. And this was very real. END PART ONE
