Marked by Encantos

Chapter 6: The Hidden Mark

The weight of the black case and its strange, missing contents clung to Dante like a shadow that refused to fade. Even after Alex's reassurances that he wasn't alone, a gnawing unease lingered, pressing into the quiet moments. Back in his room, he had tried to settle his mind, but sleep was thin, slipping through his grasp each time he closed his eyes. Fragments of the night replayed relentlessly—the cold, metallic gun he'd held, now inexplicably vanished, the twisted symbol inside the case, Alex's wary expression, the hidden passage, the tome, and everything Clara had shown him. It was all too much, too strange, layering itself over him like a weight he couldn't shake. Where had the gun gone, and why had it appeared to him at all?

When morning finally came, Dante felt as though he'd barely slept, his mind tangled in fragments of an unsettling dream. The pale light filtering through his curtains did little to soften the tension coiled in his chest. He absently rubbed the spiral birthmark on his hand, surprised to find it still warm, as though it, too, remembered the dream—a vision of shadowed corridors stretching endlessly, flickering shapes shifting just beyond his reach, and a looming door carved with a strange symbol: an ancient tree, its roots twisting downward like clawed fingers, encircling a spiral at its base.

The details were already fading, slipping beyond memory's grasp, but the symbol lingered in his mind, too familiar to ignore. It matched the one he'd seen inside the black case, etched in stark lines against the velvet, a haunting reminder of his connection to something he couldn't yet understand. Despite the early hour and his exhaustion, a strange compulsion urged him to get up and move, as if the shadows of his dream were lingering in his room, waiting to close in. Something was pulling him outside, subtle but steady, like an invisible thread drawing him toward the campus beyond his window. It felt as if the campus itself were calling him, and without fully understanding why, he knew he had to follow.

Once outside, Dante let his feet guide him, moving with unhurried but uncertain steps. It was as though a part of him, just beyond conscious reach, already knew where he was headed. The campus seemed quieter than usual, cloaked in an eerie stillness. The usual chatter and laughter of students felt distant, as if he were hearing it from far underwater, muffled and faint. He wandered beyond familiar paths, straying into parts of the campus he'd never ventured into before. Tall trees cast jagged shadows that stretched across the ground like dark tendrils, shifting with the breeze, alive with a quiet, watchful presence.

As he moved deeper into this unfamiliar stretch, he found himself entering a secluded garden tucked away from the main campus. The garden was overgrown, with thick, untamed foliage curling around the bases of trees, and tangled vines crawling up every surface. Towering trees formed a canopy that blocked much of the sunlight, casting the space in a dim, greenish hue. Shadows pooled in the corners, dense and impenetrable, as though the trees themselves were hiding something. With each step, the air grew thicker, pressing down on him like an invisible weight. His breathing became shallow, as if the space were closing in on him, absorbing the light and sound, leaving only the pulse of his heartbeat in the silence.

A prickling sensation crept over his skin, a faint but undeniable awareness that he was not alone. It was the unmistakable feeling of being watched, but by something unseen, something lurking just beyond his vision. The shadows seemed to shift, almost as though they were rearranging themselves, watching him through their dark, tangled forms.

And then, somewhere in the depth of the shadows, he sensed it—a presence, just out of sight, observing him from the darkness. The feeling was so strong, so certain, that he instinctively stopped, his heart pounding as he scanned the area, his eyes adjusting to the dim light. For a brief moment, he thought he saw movement—a flicker, like the edge of a figure slipping between the trees. He stood perfectly still, his breath caught in his throat, his instincts telling him that whoever—or whatever—it was, it was waiting for him to come closer.