You are quite like a wilted flower,
neglected,
dried out,
and crumbled into pieces.
But, why did you still catch my attention with that beyond-belief beauty of yours?
All you need is a little love to bloom,
a little care to grow colorful,
and a litt...
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XLVIII: Wilted Flower
A Shoreline of Lost Secrets | A place where forgotten truths and buried histories lie in wait, shrouded in mystery, ready to be uncovered.
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"Minho, what is that?"
"What's what?" Minho asked, his voice sharp with confusion, but his eyes instinctively darted toward the ocean.
"That thing... just above the water," Iris said again, her finger trembling as she pointed to the horizon where something unnatural seemed to shimmer in the dark.
Minho squinted, trying to discern what she was seeing. There, just above the waterline, an unnatural light hovered, faint at first, but slowly growing brighter.
He felt a shiver crawl up his spine as the air around them thickened, heavy with a strange, oppressive weight.
His breath hitched as he realized the light wasn't coming from the moon or stars, something was emerging from the water itself.
Suddenly, a whisper sliced through the air, so faint at first that Minho thought he imagined it.
But then, there it was again, a low murmur, coming from nowhere and everywhere at once.
He turned, trying to pinpoint its origin, but the whispers only seemed to grow louder, wrapping around them like a cold wind.
"What the hell is that?" Minho muttered under his breath, his gaze flicking back to where Iris pointed.
He watched, frozen, as something rose from the depths, slow, deliberate, as if it had all the time in the world.
A shape. Dark. Twisted.
The water rippled violently as it emerged, like something out of a nightmare, its form still shrouded by the murky depths but undeniably there, waiting, looming.
The air grew colder, biting his skin, forcing him to pull Iris closer. His heart thundered in his chest, beating rapidly with a terror he could not explain.
