As soon as the words leave my mouth, I hear it. My name. Spoken softly, a raspy whisper on the wind that seems to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.
“Esme…”
I turn sharply, heart stuttering, eyes searching the water for something. . .someone. The voice is familiar, like hearing my own voice played back through broken glass.
Sam doesn’t react and neither does Locke. Their expressions remain focused on the shoreline, scanning for threats. They don’t hear it. Only me.
Then, I hear it again, louder this time, followed by a haunting giggle that raises every hair on my arms. The type of giggle that only the scariest of horror films can provide, childlike yet creepy, innocent yet malevolent.
“Esme. Esme.”Giggle.“Come to me. Come see.”
My body moves before I tell it to, as if invisible strings are pulling me forward. I take a step, then another, my feet carrying me toward the water’s edge despite the alarm bells ringing in my head.
“Wait—” Locke grabs my arm, his fingers digging into my bicep with enough force to bruise. “Esme, just. . .let’s scout the shore first. Look for clues, some indication of what you need to do. There could be traps, or?—”
I don’t hear the rest. Not really. His voice becomes a distant buzz as I shrug him off like an irritating fly, my focus narrowing to a singular point of need.
“Esme. . .”
The voice is inside me now, pulsing against my ribs like a second heartbeat. A lure. A Tether. A compulsion so strong it feels like drowning in reverse.
“Esme,” Sam says behind me, concern bleeding through his carefully controlled tone. His hand touches my shoulder, warm and desperate, but I brush it off without thinking. I don’t mean to—there’s no aggression in my actions. Only incessant, overwhelming need. I have to go. I have to answer the call.
I continue my path toward the water despite the sound of my name being shouted behind me, despite the pleas to stop that grow more frantic with each step. Something must be barring their way because they haven’t tried to physically stop me again, yet I keep moving forward as if walking through thick syrup.
My booted foot touches the water, cold, viscous, shocking, seeping through the leather instantly. I feel it and don’t feel it at the same time, as if my nerves can’t decide whether this is real or dream. I’m under the voice’s spell completely, until suddenly I’m not.
The enchantment falls away like shattering glass just as hands made of water, impossible, terrifying, but real, surge from beneath the surface, seize my ankle with crushing force, and yank.
I scream, or I think I do, but the sound is swallowed instantly by the hungry lake. I hear Sam shout my name, raw with panic. Locke curses violently, but their voices warp and fade, distorting into bubbles and silence as the lake drags me under with supernatural strength.
Down.
Down.
Down.
Into absolute darkness where pressure builds against my eardrums and my lungs burn for air.
Water closes over me, cold as death and twice as merciless. I thrash desperately, but my limbs feel slow, heavy, like I’m swimming through muddy sludge that clings to every movement. I try to reach up, to find the surface, to escape this liquid nightmare, but I see no sky above me, only endless black that stretches in all directions. Panic claws at my throat as I struggle not to inhale, my chest burning with the effort of holding my breath.
Then, without warning, there’s air. Not quite right, but breathable. My lungs expand with it, too fast, too full. Logically, I know this isn’t possible. I’m underwater, deep enough that the pressure should be crushing me, yet I can breathe.Magic, Esme, I remind myself as the pulling stops abruptly and I find myself standing upright, not floating as I would assume. I’m heldin place by some invisible force, suspended in this impossible pocket of existence.
Wiping the water from my eyes with trembling hands, I blink and the lake around me transforms. I’m encased inside what I can only presume to be a bubble. A perfect mirrored dome, glimmering with magic that hums through the water. The lake beyond it is frozen, literally suspended in place like time itself has stopped moving to accommodate this moment. Fish hang motionless in the dark water, their scales catching impossible light.
Then the visions begin. My own personal surround sound of horror as the first images shimmer into view like reflections on disturbed water.
I see myself standing on the blood-slicked dais of the Blue Mountain Coven at the top of the waterfall, but this version of me is wrong in every conceivable way.
My white robes are blood-soaked, the fabric heavy and dripping with the life force of the ring of bodies at my feet. Witches I once knew, ones who shunned me, ignored me, treated me like I didn’t belong, their bodies lie lifeless, eyes wide and devoid of life, mouths open in silent screams. All sacrificed beneath a blood moon that bathes the scene in crimson light. The most horrifying aspect is that I’m laughing, my voice echoing off the stones with manic glee. My hair whips wild around me as if it has a life of its own, white strands stained with red. My robes are torn and stained beyond recognition.
Storm clouds churn overhead like a living thing as I lift my hands to the sky and call down lightning with casual ease. The remaining priestesses kneel in a circle around the carnage, heads bowed in worship, their voices rising in chants that praise my power. Worshipping me. Calling out to me like I’m their dark goddess. The sound only makes the vision-me laugh harder,the sound bouncing off the waterfall and echoing through the mountains.
The vision twists and bleeds into something new, more immediate, more terrifying.
I’m back at HellNight Academy. The sun is setting, painting the sky in shades of amber and gold, and the night is calling the students home with its familiar dread.
The klaxons scream their warning as the countdown to nightfall begins, that sound I know so well. Students flee across campus in panic, rushing to get behind the safety of their dorms before darkness claims them. I’m not running. I hover in the sky above them like some terrible angel, eyes glowing with otherworldly light, drenched in shadows that writhe around me like living things. I don’t fear the night. I am the night. I’m hunting.
