The wind howled through the narrow alleyways of the village, a mournful wail that sent shutters clattering and doors shivering in their frames. The sky was a bruised shade of gray, clouds swirling in chaotic patterns, heavy with the promise of rain. Fog curled along the cobblestones, weaving through the crooked streets like spectral fingers, cold and damp, clinging to Eleanor's skin as she moved swiftly, her shoulders hunched, her hands gripping her mother's journal tight against her chest.
The villagers watched her from behind half-drawn curtains and cracked doorways, their faces pale and drawn, eyes gleaming with suspicion and fear. She could feel their stares on her back, prickling along her spine, the weight of their judgment heavy in the air. Their whispers followed her, low and venomous, curling through the fog, seeping into her skin like poison.
"She went to the altar… spoke to the dead…" The voice was thin and cracked, drifting from a shadowed doorway, carrying a shiver of accusation. "Just like her mother…"
"Cursed…" another voice hissed, sharp and brittle. "She's cursed…"
Eleanor's jaw tightened, her fingers digging into the cracked leather spine of the journal, her nails pressing into the brittle pages. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest, her breath uneven, her pulse roaring in her ears. But she didn't stop, didn't look back, didn't acknowledge their words. She kept her head high, her eyes fixed on the road before her, her feet moving with purpose, even as her knees trembled and her body screamed to run.
The houses loomed above her, crooked and bent, their sagging roofs clawing at the sky, their shadows long and twisted, curling along the cobblestones like skeletal fingers. The wood groaned beneath the weight of years, the windows hollow and dark, watching her with glassy eyes. The air was cold and damp, heavy with the scent of rotting leaves and wet earth, the remnants of autumn decaying in the gutters.
She turned down a narrow alley, the walls closing in around her, the shadows pressing closer, the fog swirling at her ankles, curling up her legs, cold and damp. Her heart raced, her pulse quickening, her breath coming in short, jagged gasps as she stumbled over the uneven stones, her body trembling, her fingers cramping around the journal.
A sharp crack echoed through the fog, the sound splintering the silence. Eleanor's head snapped up, her eyes wide, her body freezing as her heart lurched painfully. A figure stood at the end of the alley, a dark silhouette against the fog, tall and slender, the shadows curling around them, their face obscured, their body rigid.
Her breath caught, her chest tightening, her legs trembling beneath her. She took a step back, her back pressing against the cold, damp wall, her fingers digging into the stone. The figure didn't move, didn't speak, just stood there, watching her, the shadows twisting around them, the air growing colder, heavy with the scent of lavender and earth.
Eleanor's stomach turned, a cold shiver running down her spine. She recognized that scent, faint and distant, buried beneath the damp and decay. Her mother's scent. The air grew colder, the fog thickening, curling around the figure, the shadows writhing, twisting, their shapes contorting, unnatural, otherworldly.
Her heart thudded painfully, her breath catching, her body frozen, her eyes locked on the figure. Her mother's voice echoed through her mind, hollow and broken, whispering through the darkness, "The Echo binds all who come before it… Only through sacrifice can the cycle be broken…"
The figure took a step forward, their body flickering, the shadows curling around them, their face still obscured, lost in the fog. Eleanor's body tensed, her breath shallow and uneven, her chest tight, her legs trembling. The air was heavy, cold, the scent of lavender growing stronger, sharper, tinged with earth and decay.
Her mother's face flashed before her eyes—pale and hollow, eyes sunken, lips blue, her skin translucent, her body broken and twisted. Eleanor's stomach lurched, bile rising in her throat, her heart pounding, her mind racing. Her mother's face, twisted with pain, her voice echoing through her memories, fractured and broken. "The price… was my soul… and soon, it will be yours…"
The figure took another step forward, their face flickering, the shadows twisting, their body bending, contorting, unnatural, their limbs elongated, their spine arched. A low whisper curled through the fog, faint and distant, layered with a deeper resonance, cold and hollow, echoing through the alley, twisting around Eleanor, sinking into her skin. "The cycle must continue… the Echo must be fed…"
Eleanor's body jolted, her heart stopping, her chest tightening, her vision blurring. She stumbled back, her back pressing harder against the wall, her fingers clawing at the stone, her breath coming in short, jagged gasps. Her legs shook, her knees buckling, her body trembling, the cold seeping into her bones, the shadows pressing closer, the fog swirling around her, heavy and damp.
The figure flickered, their body twisting, their face contorting, shadows curling across their skin, hollow eyes watching her, cold and empty. "You cannot escape…" The voice was hollow, distant, echoing through the darkness, curling through the fog, sinking into her mind, wrapping around her heart, cold and sharp. "The curse binds you… just as it did her…"
Eleanor's chest tightened, her vision blurring, tears burning in her eyes. "No… I won't… I won't become like her…" Her voice was fractured, broken, curling through the fog, lost to the shadows. Her mother's face flashed before her eyes, pale and hollow, eyes filled with sorrow and regret, her voice echoing through her mind, cold and distant. "I tried to protect you… but the curse is stronger… it binds us all…"
The figure took another step, the fog curling around them, their body flickering, the shadows twisting, writhing, their face a contorted mask of pain and sorrow. The scent of lavender and earth grew stronger, heavier, suffocating, curling around Eleanor, cold and damp, sinking into her skin.
Her chest tightened, her vision darkening, her body trembling, her fingers numb, her heart thudding painfully. The shadows pressed closer, their whispers curling through the fog, cold and hollow. "The cycle must continue… the Echo must be fed…"
The air grew colder, the fog thickening, the shadows twisting, the darkness pressing in, heavy and suffocating. Eleanor's body sank to the ground, her back sliding down the wall, her legs buckling beneath her, her fingers trembling, her chest tight, her heart shattering. The journal slipped from her hands, the pages fluttering open, the ink twisting, writhing, curling across the page like smoke.
The shadows watched from the corners, their eyes cold and hollow, their whispers curling through the air. "You are hers… you are bound to the curse… there is no escape…"
Eleanor's vision blurred, the darkness swallowing her, the whispers curling around her, cold and hollow. And as the fog curled closer, the shadows pressing in, she knew, with cold, sick certainty, that she could not run from her fate. The curse had already claimed her.