He vanished into the light like he was never real to begin with.
Evelyn stood rooted in the silence that followed, her hand hovering near her chest as if she could still feel the echo of his presence there.
The space he'd stood in flickered in her mind, not like a memory, but like a scar.
A crack left open.
The earth had sealed shut as quickly as it had split, and yet the air still carried a charged hum.
Her skin prickled, tight with the memory of smoke licking her shoulder, not just burning but tasting.
Her throat worked, dry.
What the hell just happened?
The sharp tap of approaching footsteps broke through her daze.
"Evelyn?"
She turned, fast, too fast.
Her eyes were wide, every nerve on edge.
The voice was familiar, but for a second, she didn't trust anything.
Clara emerged from the mist-drenched shadows, eyes narrowed with concern. "There you are! I've been looking for you since the music cut out. The whole square went dark and what're you doing just standing there?"
Evelyn blinked, trying to smooth her expression. Her lips parted, but the words tangled in her throat.
"I thought I saw someone," she said finally, voice thin.
Clara frowned. "Someone like...?"
Evelyn shrugged, pulling her arms tightly around herself. "It was nothing."
That wasn't a lie, it wasn't someone.
It was something else entirely.
Clara peered at her. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I don't know what I saw," Evelyn whispered.
Clara sighed, softening. "Come on. Let's go home before you catch cold."
As they walked back through the damp square, Evelyn kept glancing over her shoulder, not because she expected to see him again but because some instinct told her she'd never really stopped being watched.
⸻
At home, the familiar smells of dried herbs and wood smoke should've comforted her.
They didn't.
She sat in her room long after Clara had gone to bed, fingers gripping the edges of her quilt.
Her window was cracked just enough to let in the night air.
It smelled wet, metallic. Like blood and rain.
Then her thoughts spiraled with so many questions.
How did he know my name?
Why did he tell me to run?
Why did I freeze?
She hated that most of all, despite every ounce of fight in her bones, she'd stood there like a deer beneath a wolf's stare.
She hadn't even asked his name.
But... neither had he asked hers.
He'd known.
She squeezed her eyes shut, willing sleep to come. It didn't.
⸻
She woke late and unsettled.
Clara was gone to the bakery shift, her father already elbows-deep in books at the old municipal archive.
Evelyn poured herself tea but didn't drink it.
She stared at the steam rising from the cup like it held answers she couldn't reach.
The morning paper lay crumpled on the table, ink bleeding slightly where water had touched it.
Break-in at town archive. Restricted vault. Rare tomes missing.
She blinked, the headline blurred.
Her hands shook as she read on.
The librarian claimed to have seen the thief — tall, cloaked in shadow. Said the man looked directly at him... and then vanished.
Evelyn's stomach dropped.
Him.
It had to be him.
But why books?
What could he possibly need in a dusty archive?
A sudden wave of nausea hit her.
She pushed away the cup and stood abruptly, blood rushing to her head.
The room tilted slightly.
She needed air, space and answers.
⸻
Evening brought rain again, she didn't care.
She found herself drifting back toward the square like something was pulling her, not a thought but a current.
Lanterns had been rehung but their glow was duller now, hesitant, like even the flames were afraid to shine too brightly.
The square was emptier than it should've been, only a few vendors lingered, packing slowly, casting glances toward the clocktower as if it might toll something terrible.
Evelyn's boots echoed softly as she approached the center fountain.
That's when she saw it — barely visible, pinned beneath the stone ledge of the basin: a slip of parchment, edges damp from mist.
She hesitated, then pulled it free.
A single line in neat, slanted handwriting.
You saw it. That means it saw you, too.
Her breath caught.
Suddenly, she wasn't alone anymore.
Her head whipped up and eyes start scanning around.
She saw nothing.
But she felt it.
That heavy pressure behind her ribs, that strange flutter beneath her skin.
The feeling of something brushing against her thoughts, probing.
A memory sparked — the way his shadow had moved like it had its own mind.
Then... a whisper.
Not out loud.
Not even words.
Just sensation — like smoke curling inside her skull.
She backed away, one slow step at a time, trying to stay calm, trying to breathe...
And then a shape moved across the square.
Not toward her.
Just... watching.
A man.
Or the outline of one.
She couldn't see his face, only the edge of a cloak, the shimmer of silver at his collar.
She opened her mouth. "Who—"
But he was already turning.
She took one step toward him then stopped.
The ground beneath the fountain pulsed once, a faint red glow leaking through the cracks in the stone like a heartbeat and like something stirring again beneath.
She looked back.
He was gone.
But this time... so was the square.
⸻
Evelyn blinked and everything had changed.
She was standing in the same place but it wasn't night anymore.
It wasn't even her town.
The buildings were twisted versions of themselves, vines growing where lanterns once hung, stone cracking with black moss.
The air felt heavier, warmer and wrong.
The fountain was dry, bone-dry and something lay at its center.
A small, black feather still smoldering.
Her mouth opened in a silent question just as the first whisper echoed through the strange world around her.
You're not supposed to be here yet.
And then the ground split beneath her feet.
How's it? Please don't discourage me by saying that it is awful, i tried my best. 🥺