Page 70 of Presence

It feels too much like Echo. Not the good Echo, but the bad one.

My eyes narrow as I take a cautious step forward. To my surprise, the ground holds. No gaping hole swallows me.

Taking a deep breath, I step in fully.

The air is thick with the scent of metal and earth, with a faint hint of rose. My stomach tightens as I detect it, a shiver running down my spine. But that’s not the most striking sensation.

The chill in the air… Damn, it’s freezing. It feels like pure ice seeping into my bones.

The change is as sudden and drastic as when I left the forest. My breath forms visible clouds, each exhale echoing against the darkness.

And boy, isn’t it dark… The ground is covered in a thin layer of tar-like substance that slicks to my feet. The horizon is obscured by dense, swirling fog that seems alive, shifting and moving with a mind of its own. Darkness permeates every building, every brick, every tile. It’s ever-present.

Slowly, I move forward, scanning my surroundings. The buildings are gothic, with thin, spiky roofs and tall, narrow windows. Black metal gargoyles perch on their crowns, watching as I pass beneath. Bluish streaks pierce the sky intermittently, providing just enough light to make out bits and pieces of the area, but not enough to feel safe. There was more light outside this zone than inside it.

Up ahead, the path opens into a wide plaza surrounded by high towers that stretch toward the obscured sky, their tops lost in the thick swirls of mist. In the center, one building stands out. Smaller, squat, almost humble, with a roof sloping gently downward and walls made of rough, dark stone that absorbs the weak blue light rather than reflecting it. The door is heavy, wooden, and rough, unlike the others, which are shiny and smooth by comparison.

This... this looks old, weathered, and on the verge of ruin.

“Whatever you are,” I mutter, rubbing my arms for warmth, “you stand out.”

I approach, my steps slowed by the tar-like substance. Each footfall smacks against the slimy cobblestone. The heavy door looms before me, its old wood groaning as the wind whispers through the plaza. My hand hesitates at the handle—a solid, cold piece of metal that feels untouched for centuries. The faint scent of roses intensifies, mingling with the smell of old wood, dust, and a sharp bite in the air.

The door creaks open with a low, mournful sound before I can even pull on the handle. It just… creaks and slides open. On its own.

I step inside hesitantly, the door closing behind me with a hollow thud that echoes through the room. The dim interior is lit by a single flickering candle. The air is thick with decay, mingling with the floral scent of roses that clings to everything.

My breath catches in my throat. The room is small, cluttered with old, rotting furniture and stacks of dusty books. A large, ornate mirror stands in the corner, its glass tarnished and cracked, reflecting the dim light in fractured patterns. The temperature drops further, a chilling wind whispering through unseen cracks.

“Hello?” I call out, my voice echoing unnaturally in the confined space. There’s no response, just more silence broken by the faint rustling of paper as the wind shifts.

I take a few cautious steps forward, each one echoing hollowly. The floorboards creak under my weight as I move deeper into the room. Then, I spot it—a doorway, half-concealed by a tattered curtain that… flutters.

Something just moved it.

A sudden, faint sound makes me freeze in place. It’s barely audible, like a distant whisper or a soft scrape against wood. My heart pounds in my chest as I strain to hear it again. But I don’t catch anything other than the hum of my own bloodstream.

I inch towards the doorway, my hand trembling as I push the curtain aside. The room beyond is even darker, the shadows thicker and more foreboding. Another flickering candle sits on a small table, casting just enough light to reveal more old furniture, covered in dust and cobwebs, and another large mirror on the far wall.

Something moves in the periphery of my vision, a quick, darting shadow that disappears as soon as I turn to look. My breath catches in my throat, and I feel a cold sweat break out on my forehead. There’s something here with me. I’m sure of it.

It’s watching.

“Who’s there?” I whisper, my voice barely audible.

The sound comes again, closer this time—a soft, scraping noise, like nails on wood. My pulse races as I scan the room.

Something’s here. Something’s playing with me. Wants me scared.

Fuck, it works. My eyes dart around, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever is stalking me. It’s not Echo. I feel it in my bones that it’s not him. So what the fuck can it be?

I look at where I came from. I look over the shelves, the table, and an ajar door. I scan every corner. Then, my eyes fall on the mirror.

My reflection stares back, but it’s distorted, features twisted and blurred. But… A chill runs down my spine as I realize there’s something else reflected behind me—a dark, shadowy figure standing just out of reach of the candle’s light.

Oh my god…

I spin around, heart pounding in my throat. I swear I saw something right behind me! But there’s nothing. The room is empty, shadows still and silent. Slowly, I turn back to the mirror. The figure is gone, leaving only my own terrified reflection staring back at me.

---