m e k h i (incomplete)

t w e n t y - t w o

plot goes wack here. sorry.

if you are reading this story on any other platform apart from Wattpad (https://www.wattpad.com/home) you are very likely to be at the risk of a malware attack. if you wish to read this story in it's original, safe form please go to (https://www.wattpad.com/user/a_soft_bun). thank you!

t w e n  t y - t w o 

The whistle of the air is sharp, high pitched and immediately ceases the fire brimming in the hearth, instantly snatching all the warmth it provided the room, sucking it through a dim and dark void.

It's pitch black, where not even the sharpest of eyes can make out the familiar curve of the dome above, or the tall silhouettes of the bookshelves. It's nothing but a thick fog, that roams low to the ground, greedily gravitating towards the only source of warmth left, the small sleeping wolf.

The walls begin to crawl with cold, nothing similar to nature's winter. Nothing about it natural, or orderly in the world. It's manifested, energy weaved and manipulated to create such a hollow outlet. The air brims with ice that isn't meant to exist, conjoining together and becoming a potent musk.

It's heavy, heavy with energy that has been drawn out from the very depths of a being, energy that has been produced and conjured in the hardest of ways, where blood and tears have fallen. Every single particle is drawn to it, and it's greedy in its wake, touching and feeling.

More of it swallows the library, wafting upwards from the ground beneath and suffocating everything.

It's as if this new intruder attempts to rid anything this realm had to offer, to wipe out any existence of warmth that walks and flood only poison and toxicity.

The shadows seem to be able to breathe, thickening and moulding into a state that isn't quite solid, but isn't thin gas either, condensing from vapour in the slightest way. They have no features, nothing that gives recognition. They move with the air, like a second skin, easily with no obvious direction.

They just feel, becoming gravitated to the hum of pure energy left. They've managed to eradicate all else, black ice beginning to thicken on the exterior of the dome above.

It strokes her skin, touch unable to be felt by the being, but her features curve, shifting in her sleep and eyes sleepily opening. She can see nothing, eyes only seeing the one block of colour, vision being stolen from her. Eyes flicker back to her slumber, temptation too great.

It's only when her head begins to build with pressure, an unwanted entity entering. It feels as if her nerves begin to bulge, begin to contract so hard they feel as if they'd burst. It builds and builds, creating a numbing ache as it does so, before it suddenly ceases. With a sudden departure it tugs, tugs at the very essence of her and drawing it out like thread.

Her head is empty, no longer warm or humane. It's hollow, now occupied by the cold, icy and with a stinging sensation. Darkness begins to groom her. With the mind being interfered with, it's much easier to seize the body.

Skin begins to lose a rosy hue, instead left with a sickly yellow undertone. The rise and fall from her chest becomes slower and smaller, almost stopping in one case. Limbs become weak in a moment, unable to move, fragile and weak.

The heart cannot be reached, and the bond wraps around it a little harder, too stubborn to let go. It makes it beat.

Eyes flicker open again, brows furrowed and curved. They squeeze, narrowing a little when unable to see past the scope of black. Shuffling up, the movement causing her head to spin. Eyes try again, only seeing the shadows move before her like dark cloaks.