The Chosen

The Chosen

The flickering gaslight cast long, dancing shadows across the cobblestone street, mirroring the unease in Elara's heart. She clutched the worn leather-bound book tighter, its pages filled with chilling prophecies and whispered names. Tonight, she was to meet him. The Chosen One.

Elara wasn't a believer, not truly. She’d spent years studying the ancient texts, dismissing them as folklore, until the whispers started. Whispers that followed her from shadowed alleys, that scratched at her windowpanes at night, whispers that spoke her name. Then came the dreams – visions of a gaunt figure draped in black, eyes burning like embers, a voice promising power… and demanding a sacrifice.

The address was a crumbling mansion on the edge of town, its windows like vacant eyes staring into the inky blackness. A wrought iron gate, rusted and groaning, creaked open at her touch, as if anticipating her arrival. Inside, the air hung heavy with the scent of decay and something else… something acrid and metallic, like old blood.

A staircase, shrouded in darkness, spiraled upwards. Each step echoed with a sickening thud, as if the house itself were breathing. At the top, a single door stood ajar, revealing a room bathed in an unnatural crimson glow.

He sat in a high-backed chair, his face obscured by shadows. But Elara felt his gaze, cold and piercing, even before he spoke. His voice, when it came, was a rasping whisper that seemed to claw at her sanity.

“You have come,” he said, his words dripping with a chilling sweetness. “The prophecies foretold your arrival, Elara. You are the vessel.”

He gestured to a silver chalice resting on a table beside him, its surface reflecting the crimson light. Inside, a viscous, pulsating liquid swirled.

“Drink,” he commanded, his voice hardening. “Become one with the ancient power. Become… chosen.”

Fear warred with a strange, unsettling curiosity. Elara knew what the book had warned about – the terrible price of such power, the soul-crushing burden of being chosen. But the allure, the promise of unimaginable strength, was almost too tempting to resist.

She reached for the chalice, her fingers trembling. As her lips brushed the rim, a searing pain shot through her, a wave of icy terror that threatened to shatter her mind. The crimson liquid tasted of ash and despair.

Then, darkness.

She awoke to a world transformed. The mansion was gone, replaced by a landscape of twisted, skeletal trees under a blood-red moon. The whispers were louder now, a cacophony of voices demanding obedience. Elara looked at her hands, now glowing with an unnatural light. She was chosen. But at what cost? The price, she realized with a shuddering breath, was her very soul. And the nightmare had only just begun.

NOTE: hello I'm xirie the uploader. the one who wrote this story is from Frances, and she is sick so I'm requested to upload the first chapter. please let me know if there's something you guys need to say to her.

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