Whispers of Astoria

Chapter Three: Shadows of Astoria

Florence's heart raced as the world around him seemed to collapse into chaos. The dark figure towering before Andre radiated a cold energy, its shadow stretching unnaturally across the clearing. The wind howled, twisting through the trees, and the hum that had once felt like a distant murmur now pulsed violently in the air.

Florence stood frozen at the doorway of the cottage, unable to tear his gaze from Andre. There was a power in him—a strength Florence hadn't seen before. Andre's eyes glowed faintly, and his stance was unwavering as the shadow moved closer.

The figure, cloaked in darkness, seemed to have no true form, but its presence was suffocating, as if it were pulling the very life from the air around them. Florence felt his knees weaken, fear constricting his chest. He didn't know what this thing was, but he knew it wasn't here by chance.

"Florence!" Andre's voice snapped him out of his daze, urgent and commanding. "Get back inside!"

Florence stumbled backward into the cottage, but he couldn't just hide. He didn't know what Andre was, or why this creature had come, but something deep inside told him he needed to stay—he needed to help.

The book. His eyes fell on the old tome he had dropped in his panic. The spiral symbol on its cover still glowed faintly in the dim light, and Florence's instincts screamed at him to pick it up. He grabbed the book, his fingers trembling as he opened it to the page with the drawing of the figure bathed in shadow—the same figure standing in the clearing.

Andre's voice echoed from outside, low and unfamiliar, as if he were speaking a language Florence couldn't understand. The shadows writhed, twisting around the dark figure, but Andre stood his ground, his hands raised in a protective stance.

The words on the page seemed to blur, but one phrase stood out, clear and sharp in Florence's mind: The one marked by fate will bring the storm.

Suddenly, a blinding light erupted from the clearing, and the ground beneath Florence's feet trembled violently. He felt the air shift, heavy and charged, as if something far greater than himself had been awakened.

And then, everything went still.

Florence rushed to the door, his heart pounding. The figure was gone, its presence dissipating into the night. Andre stood in the center of the clearing, his shoulders rising and falling with heavy breaths. He turned, his expression unreadable, but his eyes—those deep, dark eyes—were filled with something Florence hadn't seen before.

Fear.

"I told you to stay inside," Andre said quietly, his voice heavy with tension.

Florence stepped forward, clutching the book. "What was that? Who—what are you?"

Andre looked at him, his jaw clenched, as if debating how much to reveal. Then, with a sigh, he stepped closer, his voice low and urgent. "There are forces in Astoria that are far older and far more dangerous than you can imagine. That creature wasn't just a shadow—it's a part of something much larger. Something that's hunting us."

Florence felt the weight of his words sink into him. "Us?"

"You've been marked, Florence. Just like I have." Andre's eyes flicked to the book in Florence's hands. "Astoria brought you here for a reason, but it's not just for you. There's something about your presence that has shifted the balance in this world."

Florence's mind reeled. He didn't understand. Why him? What did Astoria want from him? But before he could ask, Andre's hand gently gripped his arm, grounding him.

"We don't have much time," Andre said, his voice steady. "We need to leave."