Chapter 76
VANESSA POV
The shadows are breathing.
I know that sounds impossible, but in my dream, they are alive.
Moving.
Watching.
Waiting.
I run through a dark hallway that never seems to end, my bare feet slapping against cold stone floors. The air is thick and heavy, pressing against my lungs like smoke. Every breath burns.
Behind me—
Footsteps.
Soft.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Not human.
I don’t dare look back.
Because I know if I do, I’ll see them.
The shadows.
They slide along the walls like liquid ink, stretching and twisting into shapes that shouldn’t exist. Long arms. Jagged claws. Hollow faces with no eyes.
They’re hunting me.
I turn a corner, heart pounding violently in my chest.
The hallway suddenly narrows, the ceiling lowering until I have to duck. Darkness swallows everything except a faint red glow flickering in the distance.
A door.
Red.
My stomach drops.
No.
Not that door.
Not again.
The shadows surge forward behind me, faster now, closing in.
I run harder, lungs screaming, legs burning, panic rising like fire in my veins.
“Stop!” a voice whispers.
Cold.
Close.
Right behind my ear.
I spin around—
And the shadows leap.
⸻
I wake up with a violent gasp.
My body jerks upright in bed, heart hammering against my ribs like it’s trying to escape. Sweat clings to my skin, and the room spins slightly as I struggle to breathe.
It was just a dream.
Just a dream.
Just—
CRASH.
Something slams onto the floor beside my bed.
I freeze.
Slowly, carefully, I turn my head.
My lamp lies shattered on the carpet.
The bulb flickers weakly, sparks dancing along the broken glass.
My breath catches.
I didn’t touch it.
I didn’t move.
Another sound follows.
A soft thud.
Then another.
And another.
My eyes widen as books begin sliding off my shelf one by one, falling to the floor like invisible hands are pushing them.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Fear crawls up my spine.
“What the hell…” I whisper.
The air in my room feels wrong.
Heavy.
Charged.
Watching.
I swing my legs off the bed slowly, standing on shaky feet. My gaze sweeps across the room, searching for anything—anyone—but there’s nothing there.
No movement.
No person.
Just silence.
Then—
A pencil lifts from my desk.
Floats.
Hovers in midair.
My stomach drops straight to the floor.
“Oh no,” I breathe.
The pencil trembles slightly… then falls.
Clattering against the wood.
The room goes still again.
But the damage is done.
Because now I know.
Something is very, very wrong.
⸻ ————
The rest of the morning feels like walking through a nightmare I can’t wake up from.
I get dressed slowly, every movement careful, every sound making me flinch. My room looks like a tornado passed through it—books scattered everywhere, broken glass on the floor, drawers slightly open.
I keep glancing over my shoulder.
Waiting.
Watching.
Expecting something to move again.
But nothing does.
Not yet.
Downstairs, the house smells like toast and coffee, the familiar comfort of normal life trying—and failing—to calm the storm inside my chest.
My little brother sits at the kitchen table, shoveling cereal into his mouth like he hasn’t eaten in weeks.
He looks up when I walk in.
“You look terrible,” he says casually.
I glare at him.
“Good morning to you too.”
He grins.
“What happened? Zombie attack?”
I grab a glass from the cabinet, filling it with water at the sink.
“Something like that.”
He watches me carefully, chewing slowly.
“You’re acting weird,” he says.
I sigh.
“Can you not today?”
He smirks, clearly enjoying himself.
“Oh, I’m definitely doing today.”
Annoyance flares inside me.
Sharp.
Sudden.
My grip tightens around the glass.
“Just eat your breakfast,” I snap.
He raises his eyebrows dramatically.
“Wow. Moody much?”
Something inside me snaps.
A surge of heat rushes through my chest—fast, intense, uncontrollable.
The glass in my hand trembles.
Then—
BOOM.
The water glass explodes.
Shatters.
Fragments of glass scatter across the kitchen floor, water splashing everywhere.
Silence slams into the room.
My brother stares at me.
Frozen.
Wide-eyed.
“What—” he whispers.
My heart races violently.
“I… I didn’t mean to,” I stammer.
Because I didn’t.
I didn’t touch it.
I didn’t squeeze it.
I just—
Lost control.
Fear spreads through my body like ice.
Something is wrong with me.
Very wrong.
⸻
By midday, the feeling hasn’t gone away.
If anything, it’s worse.
Every hallway at school feels darker than usual. Every shadow seems to linger a little too long. Every reflection in the windows makes my heart skip.
I keep turning around.
Checking behind me.
Waiting to see something standing there.
But there’s never anything.
Just emptiness.
Still—
The feeling remains.
Like I’m being watched.
Followed.
Hunted.
I head straight to the library after classes, dropping my bag onto the nearest table and pulling out every book I can find about dark magic, curses, and supernatural backlash.
Pages blur beneath my fingers as I read.
Spell consequences.
Energy imbalance.
Spiritual attachments.
One phrase keeps repeating.
Dark magic always demands payment.
My stomach twists.
Because suddenly, Essa’s smile flashes in my memory.
That strange, knowing grin.
The way she watched me during the ritual.
The way she said the off feeling meant it worked.
A cold realization creeps into my mind.
What if it didn’t just work?
What if it changed me?
The thought makes my chest tighten.
I slam the book shut.
There’s only one person who can answer this.
My grandmother.
⸻
Her house looks the same as always—quiet, peaceful, surrounded by tall trees swaying gently in the afternoon breeze.
But the moment I step onto the porch, the front door swings open.
She’s already standing there.
Waiting.
Her eyes lock onto mine instantly.
Sharp.
Knowing.
Concerned.
“You used dark magic,” she says.
Not a question.
A statement.
My breath catches.
“Yes,” I admit slowly.
Her expression darkens.
“What kind?”
I hesitate.
Because now the truth feels heavier than ever.
“We performed the sealing spell,” I say carefully.
The name hits her like a lightning strike.
Her posture stiffens instantly.
Fear flickers across her face.
Real fear.
My heart drops
She steps aside quickly.
“Come inside.”
Her voice is tight.
Urgent.
We move into the living room, and she closes the door behind us with a firm click.
Then she turns to face me fully.
Her gaze scans my face carefully, studying every detail.
Searching.
“What have you been experiencing?” she asks.
I swallow hard.
“Dreams,” I say. “Things moving on their own. Glass breaking. Feeling like something is following me.”
Silence falls.
Then slowly…
Everything clicks.
The ritual.
The energy.
The explosion of power.
Essa’s grin.
The strange feeling afterward.
My heart begins pounding harder.
“Oh my God,” I whisper.
My grandmother watches me closely.
“What is it?”
I look up at her, fear flooding my chest.
“The spell we did with Essa,” I say slowly. “She guided me through it.”
Her face goes pale.
And in that moment—
I understand.
Essa didn’t just help us.
She used me.
She made me channel something darker than I realized.
Something forbidden.
Something dangerous.
Black magic.
The word echoes in my mind like thunder.
My grandmother steps closer, her voice low and grave.
“Dark magic always leaves a mark,” she says.
A chill slides down my spine.
Because suddenly, the dream makes sense.
The shadows.
The feeling of being watched.
The broken objects.
The glass exploding.
I’m not losing control.
I’m being hunted.
My voice comes out barely above a whisper.
“What happens now?”
Her eyes meet mine.
Serious.
Unforgiving.
Honest.
“Now,” she says slowly, “you face the consequences.”
Fear grips my chest.
Cold.
Sharp.
Relentless.
Because one thing is suddenly very clear.
The shadows in my dreams…
Were never just dreams.
They followed me here.