The light crystal hums faintly above me, washing the room in pale gold—just enough for me to see the chaos.
Everything is upside down.
My sheets are pulled to the floor. My clothes lie scattered, some ripped open. My drawers are emptied. My table is overturned. The wardrobe doors swing gently, like something just forced them open.
And in the middle of it all…
A hooded figure.
Crouched. Searching. Moving like smoke trapped in a cloak.
I freeze. My breath stops at the base of my throat. I don't know if I want to scream or run or attack, but my body refuses to choose.
The figure pauses.
It lifts its head—slowly—like it just realized I exist.
Cold ripples down my spine.
I see no face. No skin. No eyes.
Only thick, black smoke drifting out from under its hood, curling and uncurling like dark breath.
My voice comes out weak. "W–who are you?"
No answer.
The figure goes back to searching. As if I am nothing.
My fear snaps into anger.
