Chapter 6 : The Dark Reflection
Bucky Finch was buried in work that day, his mind fully immersed in a project due by the end of the week. Hours seemed to fly by as he typed, calculated, and adjusted details, his focus so intense that he barely noticed the clock ticking toward late afternoon.
By the time he finally saved his progress, he let out a deep sigh of relief, the tension in his shoulders loosening.
Needing a break, Bucky decided to rest his head on his desk. Just a quick nap, he told himself, to recharge. As he closed his eyes, exhaustion washed over him, pulling him into a deep, dream-filled sleep.
But this wasn’t a normal dream.
In his mind’s eye, Bucky found himself in a dark, desolate landscape. A feeling of dread surrounded him as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. Haunting whispers filled the air, chilling voices that carried an aura of malevolence. The air smelled like blood and ash, and the sky was blood-red, with dark clouds swirling above.
Then he saw a figure in the distance—a tall, menacing man with a devilish appearance. He wore a cruel, twisted smile, and his eyes glowed with an unnatural, fiery light. The figure moved with terrifying purpose, slashing through crowds of helpless people, cutting heads and smashing necks until they died, blood splattering across his body. People screamed and fled in terror, but each time he swung his weapon, more fell. Nearly a thousand headless corpses lay behind him, and the souls of the fallen would rise, drifting toward him, only to be absorbed into an ominous light hovering in the sky above a distant castle. The souls formed a writhing stream of energy, drawn to the light like moths to a flame.
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Bucky watched, horrified, as the man in his vision moved closer to the castle, leading the stream of captured souls toward the fiery light. The castle was unlike anything he’d ever seen—dark, towering walls guarded by creatures that defied all logic and sense, their forms twisted, monstrous, as if crafted from pure nightmare.
Suddenly, the fiery light in the castle began to speak. Its voice was deep, rumbling like thunder, and Bucky could feel its power even from afar. “Azur,” the voice called.
The name echoed in Bucky’s mind—Azur. It struck a strange chord within him, resonating in a way he couldn’t explain. The figure named Azur looked up at the light, his expression cold and obedient, as if he lived solely to serve the mysterious, fiery entity.
As Bucky continued to watch, a dreadful realization crept over him. Despite the figure’s blurry form, there was something unsettlingly familiar about Azur. It was as if he were looking at a twisted, monstrous reflection of himself—a dark version.
Just then, the sound of a voice pulled Bucky from the depths of the nightmare.
“Bucky! Hey, Bucky!” His manager’s voice cut through the darkness, and with a sudden jolt, Bucky snapped awake, his heart pounding as he struggled to regain his bearings. The fluorescent lights of his office came into focus, and he realized he was still at his desk, his manager looking down at him with a raised eyebrow.
“Are you alright? You looked like you were having a bad dream,” his manager said, sounding slightly amused but concerned.
Bucky nodded, trying to steady his breathing. “Yeah… I’m fine. Just… just tired, I guess.”
“Did you finish the project?” his manager asked, glancing at Bucky’s screen.
Bucky forced himself to nod, gesturing toward his computer. “Yeah, it’s done. I just needed a quick nap after.”
His manager gave him a small smile. “Good work. Take a breather if you need to.”
As his manager walked away, Bucky sat there, his mind still reeling from the vision he’d just experienced. The image of Azur and the fiery light lingered in his mind, making his skin crawl. Who was Azur? And why did he look so much like Bucky himself?