THE BROKEN DREAMS

Fred helped Clara to her feet.

She leaned heavily against him, her face pale but her breath steadier.

The tunnel around them seemed to pulse with darkness, but no other threats emerged.

Still, Fred couldn't shake the unease crawling through him.

That stranger—their power—their sudden appearance and disappearance...

It didn't feel like salvation.

It felt like something much worse.

"Are you alright?" Fred asked, brushing a lock of hair from Clara's forehead.

She nodded weakly.

"I think so... but..."

She hesitated, then gripped his arm tightly.

"Fred... something's wrong. I feel... different."

---

Fred's stomach twisted.

He held her closer, feeling her body tremble against his.

"Different how?" he asked urgently.

Clara shook her head, confusion clouding her eyes.

"It's like..." she paused, struggling to find the words, "there's something inside me. Moving."

Fred's blood ran cold.

A faint shimmer danced across her skin—barely visible—but it was there.

Something unnatural.

Something foreign.

He remembered the vial.

The iridescent liquid.

The stranger's words: "I can save her."

At what cost?

--

Clara's breathing grew faster, more erratic.

Fred knelt down, forcing her to look into his eyes.

"Stay with me, Clara," he urged.

But she pulled away, clutching her stomach.

Her body shivered violently, and her veins—those underneath her skin—began to darken, glowing faintly with a bluish light.

Fred's mind raced.

This wasn't healing.

It was possession.

Whatever that liquid had been, it wasn't a cure.

It was a seed—planted deep within her.

And it was growing.

--

Suddenly, the tunnel filled with a whisper.

Soft, almost tender, but layered with venom.

"She is mine now..."

Fred snapped to attention, searching the darkness.

"Who's there?!" he shouted.

The whisper laughed—low, guttural.

"You asked for salvation, mortal. And salvation... always demands a price."

Fred's hands tightened into fists.

"Show yourself!"

But there was no figure this time.

Only the whisper, circling him, echoing from every shadow.

"You have two choices," it purred.

"Leave her behind... or lose yourself trying to save her."

---

Clara's hand found Fred's.

Her fingers were ice cold.

"Fred..." she whimpered, her voice barely recognizable.

Fred turned back to her, heart breaking.

Her eyes—once warm and bright—were now flickering between her natural brown and an eerie, glowing blue.

Tears welled in Fred's eyes.

"I'm not leaving you," he whispered fiercely.

"I swear it."

Clara smiled faintly, even as another shudder wracked her body.

"Then run," she said, tears slipping down her cheeks.

"Run before I hurt you."

Fred shook his head.

"Never."

---

The ground beneath them trembled.

From Clara's shadow, tendrils of darkness began to slither outward—creeping along the stone floor, reaching for Fred's feet.

Fred pulled Clara into his arms, lifting her effortlessly.

"Hold on," he said, voice steady despite the terror surging in his chest.

Without looking back, Fred sprinted down the tunnel, away from the growing darkness.

The whispers howled in fury behind them.

"You cannot escape what you have accepted!"

---

Fred ran until his lungs burned, until his legs screamed for relief.

All the while, Clara clung to him weakly, fighting whatever force was poisoning her from within.

Finally, he burst through an opening—into a vast cavern lit by strange, phosphorescent crystals embedded in the walls.

The air here was different—cleaner, lighter.

The darkness hesitated at the threshold, hissing.

For now, it could not follow.

Fred collapsed to his knees, clutching Clara tightly.

She was slipping away.

He could feel it.

And he had no idea how to stop it.

-