—
Thembeka's fingers grazed the cold, rusty handle of the basement door. A chill ran down her spine, but she gritted her teeth and pulled it open further. The faint flicker of a dying candle revealed damp stone walls covered in ancient symbols, carved deep into the rock.
Her heart hammered like a war drum. The basement smelled of mold and something else—something metallic, like old blood. The whispers morphed into a rhythmic chant, vibrating through the very air.
"Lwandle?" she called, voice barely more than a whisper.
No answer.
As she descended the narrow staircase, the glow from the candle sputtered, casting long, dancing shadows that seemed to move on their own.
Suddenly, the red eyes flared brighter in the darkness below. Thembeka's breath caught. From the shadows stepped a small figure—Lwandle, but his eyes were black pits, voids that swallowed the light.
"Mom," he said, voice hollow, "we belong to the darkness now."
Tears welled in Thembeka's eyes. "No, Lwandle. You're still my son."
But he shook his head slowly, a sinister smile curling on his lips. "The darkness listens to me now. It made me stronger."
From behind him, the shadows coalesced into a towering figure, its form shifting like smoke, its eyes burning like coals.
Thembeka gripped the Bible tighter, heart breaking but courage rising. "I don't care what darkness you're part of. I'm bringing you back."
With that, she stepped forward, ready to face the abyss.