Her breath caught, a strangled sound breaking in her throat.
The fourth toll roared through the tower.
The door creaked open.
It was not loud, but the sound felt impossibly sharp, cutting straight through the marrow of her bones. The hinges moaned as though the wood itself had not been disturbed in centuries.
Beyond the gap was only blackness. A void that seemed to devour the faint glow of the corridor lamps. Cold air seeped out, brushing against her skin like a hand.
Anya’s body screamed to run. But her legs refused. The air around her pressed heavy, every breath a battle. She half expected something monstrous to crawl through the opening.
Nothing moved. Nothing came. The silence stretched, suffocating.
Her heart hammered.
She told herself: It’s just a door. It’s just a door.
But then she realized—this door hadn’t been here before. She had walked this hallway yesterday, and the stone wall at the end had been solid.
Now, that wall had split open.
The whispering started again. Soft. Insistent. Curling around her mind like smoke.
“Anya…”
Her blood iced over. It was her name. Whispered from the darkness within the door.
Her pulse thundered in her ears as she staggered back.
“Who’s there?” Her voice trembled, thin and desperate.
No answer. Only the echo of her name again, stretching long and warped, as though dragged through water.
She couldn’t breathe. The shadows inside the room stirred—no shape, no figure, only the shifting suggestion of movement, like smoke alive.
And then—
A hand gripped her wrist.
Anya yelped, spinning around, eyes wild.
A boy stood there.
His grip was firm but not cruel, his skin cold against hers. His face was partly hidden in the dim light of the hallway, features cut with shadow. Dark hair fell over his forehead, and his gaze—sharp, unblinking—was locked on the open door.
“You shouldn’t be here.” His voice was low, steady, carrying something between warning and command.
Anya’s throat felt dry. “I—this door—it wasn’t here before—”
“I know.” He cut her off, still staring at the blackness inside. “That’s why you need to leave. Now.”
Something stirred in the darkness again, louder this time, as though their voices had roused it. A scraping sound against stone. A faint, wet drag.
The boy’s hand tightened on her wrist. His eyes finally flicked to hers, cold and certain. “If you stay past the fifth toll, it won’t let you go.”
Anya’s chest constricted. “W-what are you talking about? What is it?”
He shook his head once. “No time.”
The fifth toll began.
The sound split the air, shaking dust from the rafters. The shadows inside the door writhed, surging forward like smoke pouring from a fire. Faces flickered in the black haze—distorted, screaming, gone again in an instant.
The boy yanked her backward. “Run.”
Her legs finally obeyed. Together they tore down the corridor, the fifth toll reverberating like thunder, the air behind them thickening with whispers and the stench of damp stone.
Anya risked a glance back. The blackness was spilling out of the door now, flooding the hallway, swallowing portraits and lamps in its path.
She almost screamed.
They turned a corner, feet slamming against the floor. The boy pulled her faster, his grip never loosening. They didn’t stop until the sixth toll rattled the windows.
Only then did he push her against the wall, one hand braced beside her shoulder as if shielding her from whatever might come around the bend. His chest heaved, but his voice was steady when he spoke again.
“You have to stop wandering alone.”
Anya’s heart pounded so loud she barely heard him. “Who—who are you?”
He looked at her, finally meeting her gaze fully. His eyes were a strange mix of sharpness and something unreadable beneath—grief, maybe, or fear carefully hidden.
“Elias.”
The name lingered between them, heavy.
Before she could say more, before she could ask why he knew about the door or what the shadows were—
The hallway behind them groaned.
Stone cracked.
And faintly, from the direction they had fled, came a sound that didn’t belong to any living throat. A laughter, hollow and echoing, carried through the walls.
Anya’s blood froze.
Elias’s jaw tightened. “It knows your name now.”
Her stomach dropped. “What does that mean?”
He didn’t answer. His silence was worse than any truth.
The seventh toll began.
***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***
Download
Like this story? Download the app to keep your reading history.
Comments