
Prologue – The Flicker
> “Light trembles before darkness, not out of fear — but because it remembers what it once was.”
I used to think shadows were harmless.
That they were only a reflection — a quiet companion that followed you because it had no choice.
But now I know better. Shadows remember things we try to forget.
It started three nights ago.
A flicker on the wall, nothing unusual at first. I was painting, the kind of midnight session where silence feels like a heartbeat. My brush moved lazily, blending gray into deeper gray — maybe I was trying to hide something even from myself.
When I turned to stretch, I saw it — my shadow lagged.
Not just a second behind — it hesitated, like it was thinking.
I froze. My breath snagged on my ribs.
I moved my hand again. It followed… too slow.
The light from the lamp flickered once more, and my shadow waved.
Not a normal wave.
A goodbye.
That night, I didn’t sleep.
The walls felt closer. The silence heavier.
And deep inside me, something whispered —
“At 3:00 a.m., watch carefully. That’s when t
he shadows wake up.”
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