Chapter Three: Whispers in the Dark
It was just one of those peaceful nights—
The kind where the moon shone bright, painting silver over rooftops, touching the world with an illusion of grace.
In a quiet apartment buried deep within City 121, not a single light flickered. But it wasn't because the lights were off.
It was because something else was on.
From within that darkness, voices whispered. Ramblings, choked by pain and rage:
"They did it… she's gone… mum… all alone…"
"Everyone's at fault…"
"They'll pay… they all will…"
The floor creaked with soft, steady steps. Each footfall echoed, but the voice didn't stop:
"Yesssss… they took her awayyyy… visitssss… they need visitssss…"
"Quiet dreams… hehehehe…"
Then the door opened—slowly, quietly. But the horror didn't walk out.
It bled out.
A teenage boy stepped into the hallway. Pale skin, stretched grin, black veins running like cracks of corruption beneath his flesh.
But it wasn't the grin that made the soul scream.
It was the darkness that followed him.
The lightbulbs in the apartment hadn't been broken. They had been devoured. The shadows moved like liquid smoke, slithering behind the boy like loyal hounds.
And then it spread.
Like a wave with no sound, the darkness crawled into homes, slipping into beds and breathing into dreams.
People twisted in sleep. Some screamed. Others never woke up.
Dreams were ripped open. Minds shattered. The strong pissed themselves. The fragile collapsed from fear.
Children. Elders. Guards. No one was spared.
And as he walked the road—still mumbling, still laughing—the darkness showed him visions. Warped images. Half-truths. Pain.
It fed him more reasons to hate.
And he listened.
---
ALERT. ALERT.
Disrupted Energy Surge Detected.
City 121 Suspected of Paranormal Breach.
---
Not far from the city, two men stepped out of a bar, blinking as the alert blasted through the skies.
They locked eyes. No words. Just a quiet, grim understanding.
Then one of them muttered:
"…Another Child of the Dark."