Giona ran through an endless darkness, her breath ragged and her heart pounding in her chest. Shadows swirled around her, moving like predators and following her trail.
The air was thick, heavy, pressing down on her as she forced herself to run, her legs aching, desperate to escape. She couldn’t see anything—no ground beneath her, no sky above, just the vast, suffocating blackness.
Every now and then, a shadow would dart too close, brushing her arm or grazing her shoulder. She flinched with every touch, feeling the icy chill of fear grip her heart tighter, overpowering the pain.
The shadows didn’t have faces, but she could sense their malice, and what awaited her if they were able to catch her. They were relentless, closing in from every direction. No matter how hard she ran, they stayed on her tail.
She tried to scream, but only coughs came out. Her voice was trapped in her throat, overpowered by the strain of her near hyperventilation.
With her footsteps endlessly echoing, her heartbeat constantly in her ears, and the shadows whispering dark promises, Giona's vision began to blur.
Tears streamed down her face as her chest tightened with a deep, overwhelming fear. With a sharp gasp, she squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the hot sting of tears, and screamed.
"Dama!" She cried, her tears waiting to be swept away by the boy who had saved her tore through her mind.
"Tsubasa!" She yelled next, her heart aching for the strong, calm woman who had become like a mother figure to her, the one who had taught her so much.
"Mumu! Nina!" She finally wailed, longing for the guardians who were always by her side, protecting her from the dark and unknown when no one else was around.
But no one came. No gentle touch to wipe the tears away, no reassuring words, no soft fur to brush against her hand. Only the shadows, creeping closer and closer, their whispers now drowning out her cries, as though the darkness was threatening to swallow her whole.
Pushing herself even more, Giona's foot caught on themselves. Before she knew it, she tumbled forward, her face slamming into the cold, slick surface.
She groaned, lifting her head, her hands sinking slightly into the mysterious, almost liquid substance beneath her. It was thick, viscous, like tar, clinging to her fingers as she pushed herself up.
Her breath came in shallow gasps as she knelt there, her eyes fixed on the dark liquid below. The surface was smooth, almost like glass, but it rippled as she moved, sending tiny waves across it.
In the inky blackness, her reflection stared back at her. She saw herself—the familiar sight of her brown leather maiden dress, her blue eyes, and her dirty blonde hair tied in its usual side ponytail, messy but hers.
But to her horror, as she watched, the liquid began to ripple and distort. Her reflection wavered, the edges of her face blurring, melting into something else. Slowly, the image of herself as she was now began to change, twisting into something far more horrifying.
Her heart pounded in her chest as the once familiar image was gone, replaced by another familiar version of herself—one she had tried so hard to forget.
Her dirty, tear-streaked face stared back at her, gaunt and hollow. The brown leather dress was gone, replaced by a torn, filthy rag that barely clung to her fragile and petite frame. Her hair, unkempt and matted, hung limply around her face.
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It was her—her from that time, the time she had buried deep inside, when she was nothing more than a prisoner, used for cruel experiments. A time of pain and fear, of nights spent wishing for escape, for an end to the endless torment.
Her reflection looked back at her with haunted, black eyes, a ghost of the girl she once was, and Giona felt the weight of that past crashing down on her like a wave, threatening to pull her under.
Her hands trembled as they rested on the surface of the liquid, unable to tear her eyes away from the reflection. This wasn’t a memory she wanted to relive, but here it was, staring her in the face, refusing to be let go. Refusing to be forgotten. Refusing to be buried.
Giona stared frozen, her breath caught in her throat looking at everything she dreaded becoming again—hollow and broken.
It was then, that the reflection’s lips moved. “Help me..." it whispered, the voice thin, ghostly, echoing through the dark space. “Help me…”
The words sent a chill down Giona’s spine. She wanted to look away, to run, but her body refused to obey. The reflection repeated its plea, over and over, each time growing more desperate, more haunting.
“Help me… Help...me… H...E...L...P...M...E...”
Suddenly, her reflection’s left hand began to move, rising from the depths of the obsidian liquid. Giona’s breath hitched, her pulse racing as she watched in horror. The hand reached toward her, the surface of the liquid rippling as it came closer and closer.
Then, with a wet, unnatural sound, the hand broke through the substance, gray and lifeless. The skin looked drained, like all the life had been sucked out of it, leaving behind nothing but a shadow of what it had once been.
Before Giona could react, the cold, clammy fingers wrapped around her wrist, gripping tightly. The touch sent a bigger chill through her body, like ice seeping into her veins. The reflection’s hollow eyes deformed, pleading as the eerie voice continued to raise in volume.
Giona’s terror erupted, a scream ripping from her throat as she jerked back. She stumbled after tearing her arm away, falling onto her arms and back, her breath ragged and panicked.
The hand sat there for a moment before it slowly receded, disappearing back into the dark liquid.
Giona could only sit there, trembling and hyperventilating, her mind racing with fear. But then, something shifted behind her. The air felt thick, the kind of heaviness that comes before a storm. Footsteps echoed through the void, slow and deliberate. Dread filled her as she slowly turned around.
The shadows that had been chasing her earlier were back. Only now, as they moved closer, she could see that they weren’t just formless figures of darkness. They were men, cloaked in black, just like the ones who had haunted her past.
They were the very same cloaks that had been worn by those who experimented on her, the ones who had stripped her of everything, leaving behind scars that have yet, and will never, heal.
One of them stepped forward, his voice raspy and cruel. "There you are, filthy witch."
Giona’s blood ran cold. She wanted to scream, to run, but her body wouldn’t respond. The man loomed over her, and as she stared up in horror, she caught a glimpse of his face. His eyes were nothing but empty black pits, and his skin was a sickly, grayish tone. His face had no mouth, just a blank, unsettling mask.
"P-Please, no...!" Giona whimpered, crawling backward on her hands. Panic clawed at her chest as she tried to pull herself away from him, but it felt as if no matter how much she crawled back, she stayed in the same spot.
The man’s face shifted, and she watched in horror as his blank, featureless face began to contort. Slowly, a grotesque mouth appeared, stretching from ear to ear, twisting into a wide, toothy grin. His lips curled up unnaturally, as if he was relishing in her fear. "Seize her." he ordered, his voice dripping with malice.
The two men behind him moved in an instant, rushing forward before Giona had a chance. She scrambled to her feet, desperation fueling her movements, but it was too late. Their hands gripped her arms, forcing her down. She screamed, kicking and struggling, her cries piercing the endless darkness.
"No! No!! Please! Help me!!" she screamed, her voice echoing into the empty realm, yet no one answered. The gluttonous shadows swallowed her screams, just as it had swallowed her hope.
She was trapped, pinned down, her body shaking as she sobbed, fear consuming her completely.
It was at that moment that Giona realized there was no one to save her, and the last shred of hope she had flickered out in that grim epiphany.
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Next: (Chapter 52) Giona’s Nightmare: Part 2