A New Dawn, A Lingering Dusk

The hospital corridors buzzed with the low hum of machines.

A TV flickered in the corner of the nurse’s station, its screen bathing the dim room in a pale glow. The news anchor’s voice crackled through the static.

“Final confirmation that Thomas Callahan, once known as ‘The Unbound Prophet,’ was among the casualties of the St. Michael’s Church collapse. Authorities believe the explosion was caused by a gas leak, though conspiracy theories have begun to circulate about the secret cult discovered beneath the ruins—”

The volume lowered with a quiet click.

Nurse Evelyn rubbed her temples, exhaustion pressing down on her shoulders like a heavy weight. She had been on her feet for twelve hours, and the day had been unusually long.

Her gaze drifted toward Room 314.

Sister Clara had been admitted two nights ago, found unconscious amid the wreckage of St. Michael’s. No ID. No listed family. Just a single unsettling detail—

A faint, black vein running up the side of her neck.

Evelyn had noticed it during her last checkup. She had meant to report it—maybe an infection, maybe something worse—but every time she tried, the thought just… slipped away.

Like she was forgetting on purpose.

A chill ran down her spine. She shook it off and turned away.

A Song in the Dark

The bathroom was dim, the fluorescent light buzzing softly overhead. Evelyn scrubbed her hands at the sink, humming to herself.

A hymn.

Old. Unfamiliar.

She didn’t know where she had learned it.

Her mother had never been religious. She hadn’t stepped inside a church since childhood.

And yet, the melody felt right.

Warm. Familiar. Like a presence wrapping around her.

She glanced up at the mirror—

And froze.

Her shadow was wrong.

It should have been still.

It should have moved when she did.

But it didn’t.

It lagged.

Like it was thinking.

Like it was watching.

Evelyn let out a shaky breath. She chuckled softly.

"I need sleep."

Then—

Her shadow peeled away.

The First Step

It crawled.

Not like something natural.

Not like something that should exist.

It slithered up the wall, its limbs stretching unnaturally, its edges curling like ink dissolving in water.

It had no face.

And yet—

It smiled.

Evelyn couldn’t move.

Her heart pounded in her chest, but her body wouldn’t respond.

The hymn she had been humming still lingered in the air—

Only now, it was coming from behind her.

From the shadow.

She turned.

Too slow.

The shadow lunged.

The Last Revelation

Down the hall, in Room 314, Clara’s eyes snapped open.

The monitors beeped wildly, her heart rate spiking.

But she felt no pain.

She felt… aware.

A deep, thrumming pulse resonated beneath her skin. The black veins shifted—alive—as if something inside her was stirring.

Something that had been waiting.

Clara exhaled.

And smiled.

Final Scene: The Birth of the Unbound Faith

Deep underground, in a forgotten basement, candlelight flickered against damp stone walls.

A small gathering knelt before an altar—a crude carving of the seal that once held Mara captive.

At its center, an empty throne.

Waiting.

A figure stepped forward, carefully placing a bloodstained cloth on the altar.

A relic from St. Michael’s.

A fragment of a prophecy fulfilled.

“She has returned,” they whispered.

The others bowed.

Outside, the wind carried a hymn.

A song no one remembered learning.

A song the world would soon never forget.

The faith was never broken. It was only waiting.

End.