157
It was Bavanda.
But… not quite.
Her hair was wild, her face twisted in a way he didn’t recognize. Her eyes—dark, stormy—were different, colder, as if the very essence of her had been stripped away. She stood motionless, just staring at him, an eerie stillness hanging in the air around her.
Loco’s pulse quickened. “Bavanda?” His voice came out hoarse, a tremor lacing his words.
But the figure didn’t respond. She just stood there, unblinking, unfeeling.
Loco’s heart raced, a cold chill crawling down his spine. Something was wrong. This wasn’t her. It couldn’t be.
And yet, every part of him screamed that it was. The familiar pull, the ache in his chest—it was all there. But it wasn’t right. It wasn’t her.
Loco’s heart pounded in his chest as the figure before him moved through the shadows. His breath caught, and for a moment, he thought his eyes had tricked him. The woman before him was almost exactly like Bavanda, her posture familiar, the soft curves of her face eerily similar. But the air around her was wrong. It felt too cold. Too... empty. Loco could feel the shift in the very atmosphere, a subtle tension that prickled his skin and set his instincts on edge.
"Bavanda?" His voice was barely a whisper, the word trembling in the air. His mind struggled to make sense of what he was seeing. Was he dreaming? Was he still asleep, caught in some twisted illusion?
The figure’s eyes flicked to him. Those eyes. They were the same shade of silver, but they were empty. Hollow. There was no warmth, no softness in them. Only an eerie chill that crept through him, seeping deep into his bones. Her lips curled into a sharp smile, but it wasn’t the smile he knew. It was too predatory.
The tension in his chest deepened, and his body tensed instinctively. He rose from his bed, taking a cautious step toward her. This isn’t right, his mind screamed, and yet his feet betrayed him, closing the distance between them.
"Bavanda," he said again, louder this time, his voice shaking with a mix of confusion and fear.
As he reached out a hand, hoping to make contact, the figure’s eyes glinted, the smile widening unnervingly. But before he could touch her, she faded away—vanished—like mist in the wind. The temperature in the room dropped, the chill in the air seeping deeper, leaving him with only the sound of his own ragged breathing.
Loco stood frozen in the empty space, his mind racing, his heart still hammering. The silence was deafening, the night around him thick with unease. His eyes darted around, searching for any sign of the vision that had haunted him moments ago. But there was nothing.
Nothing but the remnants of the illusion.
What the hell just happened?
His mind reeled. The vision had felt too real, too vivid. And yet, there had been something undeniably wrong about it. His pulse raced in the quiet, and his thoughts drifted back to Bavanda, to the pain he had left behind when he walked away from her. But was it really her that he had left?
The question lingered in the air, a heavy weight he couldn’t shake off. He slumped against the bed, his breath ragged. Was this the darkness? Was it coming for him, for her, again?
He couldn’t dwell on it for long. The weight of his confusion, the overwhelming urge to understand what had just happened, gnawed at him. But the sense of something wrong—something much deeper—clung to him like a shadow he couldn’t outrun.
***
Back at the pack’s camp, Bavanda sat in her room, the door locked firmly behind her. She hadn’t left since the morning, when the accusations against her had been flung mercilessly. How had it come to this?
Her thoughts were a whirlwind, spiraling through the pain of the past few days. The heavy silence in the room was almost suffocating, the kind that filled every crevice of her mind with doubt, fear, and confusion. She couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened—the wailing family, the accusations of murder. Her own pack divided, uncertain, questioning. It had felt like the walls were closing in on her, squeezing her from all sides.
The way her mother had pulled her aside, whispering those words, her voice laced with fear: “I fear the darkness is returning.” Bavanda could still hear them echoing in her mind, haunting her. It had felt like a betrayal, even though she knew Avynna had meant well. But did she believe me?
A hot tear slid down her cheek as she remembered the pained expression on her mother’s face. She had tried to argue, to defend herself, but the pack had turned its back on her. Many had sided with the family, their eyes filled with fear and suspicion. How had it all gone so wrong?
How could they think that of me?
Her chest ached as she thought of Loco—of the silence between them, of the argument that had torn them apart. She had hurt him, she knew it, but why did it feel like she was losing him to something much worse? Something that was beyond her control. Was it her fault? Was it her weakness that had driven him away? Was he right, that the darkness had been her undoing?
She stood and walked to the window, peering out into the night, the stars above glinting coldly in the sky. The night seemed endless, each minute dragging on as the weight of everything—her past, her future, her mistakes—pressed down on her.
Should I go after him? The thought flickered through her mind like a flame, fleeting but persistent. Should I try to fix this, before it’s too late?
But the fear gripped her again, tightening her chest. What if she had already lost him? What if she was too late?
The room seemed to close in around her, the darkness heavy and thick. The familiar chill of isolation crept over her, and for the first time in a long time, she felt utterly alone. The world outside felt distant, unreachable, as if she were trapped in a place where no one could hear her.
Her gaze wandered to the door, to the place where she had locked herself away. She could feel the weight of the pack’s expectations, of the uncertain whispers outside. The fear was suffocating, the anxiety unbearable. And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to leave. To face them.
The silence of her room felt like a reflection of her own mind—a vast, empty space, devoid of clarity. Every choice, every action seemed to lead her further into the unknown.
Her thoughts circled back to Loco again, and for a brief moment, she wished she could just run to him. To find him and make everything right again. But a deeper part of her feared that even if she did, it wouldn’t be enough.
Meanwhile, far away, Loco sat in the dark, his heart heavy with the shadows of a vision that refused to fade. As the minutes dragged on, his mind swirled with the unanswered questions. Was it really Bavanda? Was she slipping further into the darkness, or was he just imagining things?
His mind struggled to make sense of what had happened, but all he could feel was the cold emptiness that seemed to stretch between them. That figure in his tent, a twisted version of Bavanda, still haunted him.
But no matter how hard he tried, the image wouldn’t leave him. He knew deep down that this wasn’t just about Bavanda or the darkness. This was something deeper. Something far more sinister that was closing in on them both.
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