6
Year 11,670 of the House of Silla Reign
Outskirts of Sattoriya, Tartareia.
The storm rages outside. Lightning strikes the protective shield surrounding my house. Immediately upon contact, sparks erupt, creating a fireworks display outside my window.
I sit quietly, staring at the drops of rain that quickly put out the sparks, my mind still in the throes of a nightmare.
Though deep asleep, I heard whispers at first. Unintelligible words that got louder and louder. Sounds that verged on the grotesque.
Someone yelling in my ear finally woke me up.
I’ve been unable to sleep since.
It’s a frequent occurrence at this point, these nightmares. Just when I think my sleep settles down and becomes tranquil, the nightmares happen again.
It’s always the same sequence. It starts with whispers. Unclear sounds that almost sound human. Then they become louder; a cacophony of screams and wails. Sometimes it’ssomeone asking for help. Other times it’s someone blaming me for their death.
And sometimes, I hear them clearly. They call me cursed: the harbinger of death.
It’s only the knowledge that my house is safe that keeps me sane at this point. Everything isjustin my mind.
My father had been planning my future for a long time, and he had bequeathed me one of the properties that were not entailed to the title.
It was a small house at the outskirts of Sattoriya, but it was fully equipped with everything I needed, including a rich library to keep me entertained for the millennia to come.
The house also came with magical guards that ensured that no one without an express invitation could step inside.
Now I wonder if the house also came with wandering spirits…
A sudden sound breaks from behind me, sending a jolt through my spine.
I freeze.
The storm swallows the noise almost immediately, thunder rolling over it, but I know what I heard. It wasn’t the wind. It was something else. Something similar to the sounds of my nightmares.
Slowly, I turn. Sweat gathers over my forehead as I take in my surroundings.
The living room is exactly as before—chair by the hearth, curtains pulled tight to the side, the faint shimmer of the protective barrier casting pale light across the walls. Nothing moves. Nothing breathes.
And yet…
A pressure lingers at my back. The unmistakable sensation of being watched.
I rise from my seat at the window, careful not to make a sound. My bare feet meet the cold floor, grounding me, even as something in my chest begins to unravel.
My veins pulse with trepidation. Those odd whispers from my dreams echo in my mind, almost as if they’re seeking to break the boundary between imaginary and real.
Another creak.
Impossible.No one can come inside this house with a direct invitation.
My face falls as realization sweeps through me.
No one with a physical body.
“Hello?”
