Page 19 of Whisper of Nightmares

The Nightmare Returns

It’s just the wind. Just her mind playing tricks. It’s been a long and arduous day, full of one too many confrontations and trips down memory lane, and it’s making her paranoid. That is all.

But the scars on her hand ache, the memory of the fire that mottled them burning bright.

The sound rustles the wind again, a throaty rumble that belongs only to the nightmare that haunts her every evening.

Euphemia’s grip tightens on the wood.

If she looks now and it’s there, that black beast of violet flames, then all hope is lost. Her life forfeit. Her soul as damned as they come.

Under no circumstances should she look. Euphemia should close her eyes and run back inside, cry out for help, do something—anything but allow herself to be drawn to the nightmare once again. Lured like a foolish moth to a deadly flame.

There are many things she should do.

And yet…

Temptation is a most vexing demon. Euphemia’s greatest sin.

And if these are to be her final moments, then she will face the beast one final time.

Against her better judgment, Euphemia turns around.

At first, all she finds is a sea of black, the forest like an abyss before her. No moonlight seeping down from above. Nothing to light her way. So Euphemia inches closer, eyes adjusting. Peering into the dark void for a glimpse of something sinister. Something curious.

When her eyes are at their largest, that’s when she hears it.

The slow, muted thudding of a horse’s hooves on grass. Less of a clip-clop, and more of a thud-thud. A measured beating of a heart in the dead of night.

Small clouds of air breathe from the darkness, and a subtle hue of violet emerges. A black horse appears, sheathed in the pale glow of its dim flames. Purple flames dance along its back. And though Euphemia’s first thought should be one of terror or anguish, all she can think as she beholds this strange creature is⁠—

“Beautiful.”

She’s not sure if she utters the word or merely thinks it. But a contented nicker escapes the nightmare as if it’s heard her, and its flames brighten—not aggressively. Nothing like that night when they rippled from the beast like an inferno sent straight from Hell. These flames remind her of sunsets. Of mesmerizing, flickering coals beneath a dying bonfire.

A smile ghosts across her face.

This is something magical. Something beyond words.

Like an angel has come down from Heaven to welcome her into God’s forgiving graces.

But just as quickly as the smile spreads, it crumbles into dust.

What sort of devilry is this to grip her with such vexation? This creature—this beast—it is no angel. It is the omen of damnation. A sign of utter ruin. More than that, it is the monster responsible for her father’s death. And here she is admiring it?

Euphemia’s stomach churns as if something black and oily has climbed inside her. She has never been more disgusted by herself. More disappointed.

As if the creature can sense she’s at her weakest, the flames on the beast’s back brighten. In a flash of furious light, the fire becomes so fierce that Euphemia has to stagger back. She bumps into the lean-to. Steadies herself while shielding her face from the heat. And it’s only then, with her arm held high blocking some of the illumination of the nightmare’s fire, that she sees it.

A figure in the darkness.

A man’s silhouette.

Stalking toward her.

Euphemia does not think. She does not breathe. She runs. Bolting around the corner of the house, with her heart slamming against her chest. But the grass is slick with dew. Euphemia slips, her body crashing to the earth with a thud. Her hip smarts on impact and under other circumstances, she would lay there a moment to catch her breath. Whimper through the sharp pain.

Thud-thud.