The king of everything

Chapter Fifteen- The Silent Curse

The days dragged on, each one heavier than the last. The oppressive energy in the dorm had thickened, like a dark cloud that never lifted. The unease wasn't just confined to Sam and me anymore—everyone in the building felt it. Whispers of ghosts, strange shadows, and cold spots swirled around like rumors, but I knew better. The demon's presence was growing stronger, inching closer to its next target.

What I didn't realize was that its next target was already me.

It started with small things. I would forget simple tasks, lose my train of thought mid-conversation, or wake up in a fog that wouldn't clear. At first, I chalked it up to stress. After all, we were literally fighting a demon, and the fear of losing more people, of losing myself, had my nerves on edge. But as the days passed, things got worse.

I began losing time.

It was subtle at first. One minute I'd be in the library, flipping through pages of old books, trying to decipher more about the sacred flame, and the next, I'd be sitting in the dorm, hours gone without explanation. At first, I shrugged it off as exhaustion, but it became more frequent, more unnerving.

Sam noticed it too.

"Dude, are you okay?" he asked one afternoon. We were sitting in the common room, the dim light barely cutting through the thick tension in the air.

I shrugged, not wanting to admit how scattered I felt. "Yeah, just tired, I guess."

Sam frowned. "You seem... different. Like, distant. I've been talking to you for the past five minutes, and you haven't said a word."

I blinked, surprised. I hadn't even noticed he was talking.

"I'm fine," I said, though the words felt hollow. "Just a lot on my mind."

He didn't look convinced, but he let it go, for now. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Deep down, I knew something had changed, but I couldn't pinpoint it. It was like a shadow creeping at the edges of my mind, something I couldn't see but could feel watching me.

That night, the dreams started.

At first, they were vague—dark, swirling visions of shadows and whispers. But then they grew more vivid. I'd wake up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat, the image of glowing red eyes seared into my memory. The worst part was the voice. It spoke to me, not in words I could understand, but in a guttural, ancient language that chilled me to the bone. I had no idea what it was saying, but I knew it was a threat.

I didn't tell Sam. I didn't tell Hope either, though she had been texting me constantly, checking in, asking if I was okay. I couldn't bring myself to respond. How could I explain that I was losing control, that my mind felt like it was slipping away from me?

One afternoon, Hope cornered me after class, concern etched all over her face.

"Aaron, what's going on?" she asked, her voice firm yet gentle. "You've been avoiding me, and you look... you look terrible."

I wanted to tell her, but something held me back. It was as if the words wouldn't come, as if something inside me didn't want to let her know what was happening. Instead, I forced a smile and said, "I'm fine, Hope. Just tired."

She didn't believe me for a second. "No, you're not. You've been distant, like you're not even here half the time. Please, Aaron, talk to me."

I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could say anything, a sudden wave of nausea hit me like a punch to the gut. The world tilted, and for a moment, I felt like I was falling. Hope's voice faded into the background, distant and muffled, as if she were calling to me from far away. My vision blurred, and the shadow—the same one from my dreams—hovered at the edges of my consciousness.