AYLA'S POV
Darkness filled everywhere.
Not the kind you close your eyes to, not the kind that comes with night and sleep. This was suffocating, swallowing, endless. I floated weightless, caught in a silence so sharp it pressed against my ears like blades.
"Hello?" My voice cracked, thin, swallowed before it could carry. The abyss didn't echo—it devoured.
The ground formed beneath me, slick black stone that pulsed faintly, like the floor itself had veins. Each throb sent a jolt through me, as if it were syncing with my own heart. I clutched my chest. The rhythm matched.
"This isn't real," I whispered. But the words fell flat, too fragile.
Oh, but it is.
The voice didn't come from outside—it bled from inside me. Familiar, wrong, like my own thoughts had been twisted.
"You opened the door," it said, soft, coaxing. "You wanted strength. You wanted to keep him safe. You called me."
"No." My fists shook. "I didn't—"
"You did."
