The night when my whole life changes! Something changed the night I met him. I was just a regular guy, drifting through a predictable life, mostly without a stable job and income and also an orphan without any inheritance, until a single encounter shattered the calm and plunged me into something I couldn’t understand.
It started on an ordinary evening, in the heart of the city, when a sharp wind picked up, carrying a sense of unease. The streets were nearly empty, and I was on my way home from my job as a professional sleeper. My mind was preoccupied, when I felt it—a presence. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as if someone’s gaze was digging into me.
Turning, I found a man watching me from across the street, standing under the flickering glow of a streetlight. Tall and still as a shadow, his eyes locked onto mine, intense and unnervingly steady. My heart thudded hard against my ribs. He was beautiful, but there was something… otherworldly about him, a quiet power radiating from his calm stance. And despite my fear, I couldn’t look away.
Our eyes met, and in that single instant, I felt a pull—magnetic, like he was drawing me in, seeing straight through me. Every nerve screamed to move, to leave, but my body betrayed me. I was rooted in place, helpless.
Before I knew it, he was crossing the street, each step measured and deliberate, his gaze never breaking from mine. And as he got closer, the air grew colder, sharper, like he carried winter with him. I took a breath, steadying myself, but he was already close—too close.
“You shouldn’t be out here alone,” he said, his voice low and smooth, each word dripping with an odd sense of authority.
The way he said it made me bristle. “Mate, I can take care of myself” I replied, though my voice came out weaker than I’d intended. I was a man, I needed to act like one.
He tilted his head, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips, like he found my answer amusing. “I’m not so sure,” he said softly, and his eyes seemed to darken, drawing me further into the depths of whatever spell he was weaving.
I swallowed, unsure whether to be flattered or unnerved by the way he looked at me, like he knew every secret I’d ever kept. “Do… do we know each other?”
“You tell me.” His stare lingered on my face, searching, assessing. “Sometimes we don’t recognize what’s right in front of us, Daniel.”
My heart skipped a beat. “How do you know my name?”
He chuckled—a low, rich sound that sent a shiver down my spine. “There’s much I know about you, more than you might imagine.”
It was such a ridiculous statement, and yet coming from him, it felt… true. My mind raced, searching for logic, for an explanation, but he was already stepping back, his face half-hidden by shadow, leaving me with the unsettling sense that he’d told me more than he’d meant to.
“Wait,” I called, but he shook his head, a soft smile brushing his lips.
“We’ll meet again, Daniel,” he murmured. “Sooner than you think.”
And before I could say another word, he turned, fading back into the darkness, leaving me standing there, alone under the obscure glow of the streetlight, heart pounding.
---
That night, his face haunted my thoughts, every detail etched into my mind as if he’d branded himself there. I couldn’t shake the way he looked at me, how he’d said my name like it was a song he’d been waiting to play. Exhausted, I finally fell asleep, tossing everything off as I assumed he was some weirdo stalker. Unfortunately, my peace didn’t last.
I found myself back on that empty street in my dream, the same shadows pooling around us as I caught sight of him—watching, waiting, like he’d never left. The air was cold, sharp enough to slice, but his gaze… it burned.
I could feel him, every part of him—his closeness, his presence, his beauty, the brush of his fingers along my cheek, icy yet electrifying. I tried to speak, to pull away, but I was frozen, caught in a web of tension, desire, and fear.
“You’ll see me again,” he whispered, his breath ghosting over my skin, leaving me breathless.
When I jolted awake, his touch lingered, as real as the sheets tangled around me. I gasped, looking around the room, but it was empty, save for the chill that clung to the air. I still tossed it off, it was obviously my mind playing tricks with me after sleeping the whole day as a professional sleeper, or was it not?
The following morning, I woke with the image of the strange burned into my mind, as vivid as if I’d just seen him. That intense, almost otherworldly look in his eyes kept replaying, refusing to let go. I tried to shake it off, but every time I closed my eyes, he was there—like a phantom in the corners of my thoughts.Throughout the day, nothing felt real. Conversations blurred, routines felt mechanical. I was on autopilot, sleepwalking through my life, haunted by thoughts of him. His face, his voice, the way he seemed to know me, as if we’d met somewhere in another life—it was intoxicating. And it was terrifying even though I tried not to think about it.By nightfall, my obsession had deepened, morphing from curiosity into something darker. I started hearing things in the quiet moments—footsteps just behind me, a breath so close it sent shivers down my neck. I’d whip around, pulse pounding, but there was never anyone there. Shadows seemed to stretch and shift in unnatural ways, leavin
The nagging sense of dread only deepened after that night. Every shadow felt too close, every sound too loud. I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone—or something—was always watching me.My sleepless nights turned into restless days, and as the city outside continued its usual bustle, I delved into an entirely different world. Late nights at the library, dim-lit corners of obscure websites, anywhere I could find whispers of the things lurking beneath the surface, I wanted to be sure that I was not losing my mind. Most of it felt like nonsense, ancient folklore and children’s tales. But the more I read, the more these so-called legends started to feel… uncomfortably familiar. Beings who lived on the fringes of our world, creatures who slipped in and out of human lives, feeding off them, binding themselves to them.One night, I stumbled on an article about a local legend: a cursed protector, a being who appeared human but was anything but. It was said he was bound to a single soul—a “
After the attack, I couldn’t bring myself to go back to my apartment alone. So, here I was, walking through the dimly lit streets, led by the man who had saved my life. Every nerve in my body felt raw and exposed, every sound sharper, every shadow darker. I glanced at him, the man who was, in some twisted fate, bound to me. And for the first time, I felt more trapped than protected.We reached an abandoned building on the outskirts of town—a sanctuary he called it, one of the few places “they” couldn’t breach. He opened the door, and I followed him into a shadowed, quiet space filled with the faint smell of incense and old wood.“Stay close,” he murmured, casting a wary look around the room, though I saw no one but us. “There are rules you need to understand.”Rules. The word settled heavily in the room, filling the silence between us with its weight. I’d grown up following rules, but none of them had prepared me for this.He leaned against the wall, his face unreadable but his gaze i
The darkness finally receded, and I gasped, pulling in a sharp breath as I stumbled forward. My protector’s arm was around my waist, holding me upright as my legs wobbled beneath me. I blinked, trying to adjust to my surroundings, and realized I was no longer in the city’s desolate streets.We were in a vast, underground lair, a place both eerie and majestic. Shadows danced across the stone walls, lit by soft blue flames in sconces that lined a long, narrow hallway stretching ahead. I could feel the strange hum of power in the air, something ancient and alive, tingling against my skin.“Where are we?” I asked, my voice echoing off the cavernous walls.“This is one of our sanctuaries,” he replied quietly, his eyes scanning our surroundings as though expecting a threat to materialize at any moment. “Few know of it. Fewer still can enter.”There was a tension in his posture, a sharp alertness that matched the barely concealed fear in my own heart. I didn’t feel safe here—not with him, no
The cold air hit my face like shards of glass as I sprinted through the dense forest, my heart hammering against my ribs. Every snap of a twig or rustle of leaves sent my pulse spiking. They were coming. I didn’t know how many, but I could feel their presence closing in—dark, menacing, and unrelenting. We managed to escape just to be chased again"Daniel, move faster!" Rigel's voice roared from somewhere behind me, his tone sharp and commanding. It wasn’t like his usual calm demeanor. He sounded... panicked. I turned backwards slightly and saw how he still looked strangely handsome even as he rushed behind me. Branches tore at my skin as I stumbled over roots, my lungs burning with every gasp. I wanted to shout at him, to demand answers, but there wasn’t time. The air grew heavier, the kind of oppressive weight that only came when they were near. A sudden growl shattered the night. My body froze instinctively, but Rigel grabbed my arm and yanked me forward with terrifying strength.
The air inside the refuge felt heavy, charged with a strange energy that made my skin tingle. It was as if the walls themselves pulsed with life, whispering secrets I wasn’t meant to hear. Shadows flickered and danced along the stone corridors, cast by the dim glow of lanterns hung at uneven intervals. Rigel limped ahead of me, his injuries bandaged hastily but still bleeding through in places. He didn’t complain, though his clenched jaw and the tension in his shoulders betrayed the pain he was in. "Where are we?" I asked, my voice bouncing off the walls. "A sanctuary," Rigel said without looking back. "One of the few left." The corridor opened into a vast underground chamber, its ceiling soaring high above us and lit by a strange, glowing orb that hovered in the center. The space was bustling with activity—people moving quickly, their faces pale and strained. Some carried weapons I couldn’t name; others clutched books bound in leather so old they looked ready to crumble. I felt