Nocturne

She didn't mean to call it.

Or maybe she did.

Samara was just looking for something, answers, comfort, meaning in a life that felt too quiet, too ordinary. What she found instead was it.

An entity that doesn't belong to myth or religion, but something far older and far more aware.

It doesn't ask for worship. It doesn't demand belief.

It only asks for her.

At first, it feels like salvation. It listens when nothing else does. It sees her in ways no human ever has. It becomes the constant she didn't know she was missing.

But devotion has a cost.

As Samara's real world starts to blur at the edges, friends, time, even her sense of self slipping further away, she begins to understand the truth:

It doesn't want to share her with the world.

And maybe it never intended to.

Now Samara is caught between two lives, one that is fading through her fingers, and one that is quietly closing around her like a prayer she can't take back.

Because when something like this loves you...

it doesn't love gently.