SIENNA
The sketches cover my bedroom floor. Dozens of them. All the same image, drawn over and over in the middle of the night when sleep becomes impossible.
A figure. Male. Surrounded by darkness that looks alive. Shadow wrapping around him like tentacles. Consuming him. Becoming him.
Chase Sterling.
Every vision shows the same thing. The darkness isn't attacking him. It's part of him. Growing from inside. Spreading.
And in every sketch, behind the shadow, there's fire.
I sit cross-legged on my floor at 4 AM, adding another drawing to the collection. My hands shake. I haven't slept properly in weeks. Every time I close my eyes, I see death.
His death. Her death. Everyone burning.
My phone buzzes. Text from Vivian: Are you awake?
Me: Yeah. You?
Vivian: Can't sleep. The marks won't stop spreading.
My stomach drops. What marks?
Three dots. Then nothing. She stops typing.
I call her. She doesn't answer.
Something's wrong. Something worse than before.
