The figure stood motionless at the edge of the clearing, its skeletal hand extended toward Sofia. The whispers that had been calling her name now morphed into something sharper, more insistent, like a chorus of voices commanding her to move. But she couldn’t—her body refused to respond. Her breath came in shallow gasps as she stared into the hollow eyes of the creature.
The whispers grew louder, drowning out the sound of the rain. Her name echoed from every direction, but the voice was no longer her mother’s. It was something else, something ancient and angry.
And then, the figure stepped forward.
Sofia scrambled backward, her hands slipping in the mud. Her heart pounded as the creature moved into the faint light filtering through the jungle canopy. Its body was impossibly thin, the skin stretched tightly over jagged bones. Its face was a pale mask, eyeless sockets staring at her with an unnatural intensity. Water dripped from its body, pooling at its feet.
“Stay away!” Sofia shouted, her voice cracking. She clutched the scrap of her mother’s cloth like a talisman, as though it could shield her from whatever this thing was.
The Rainwalker didn’t stop. It moved slowly, deliberately, its bony feet silent on the wet ground. The whispers continued, but now they were in a language Sofia couldn’t understand—harsh, guttural words that seemed to vibrate in her skull. She pressed her hands over her ears, but it did nothing to muffle the sound.
Suddenly, the Rainwalker stopped. It tilted its head, as though studying her. Then it raised its hand again, this time pointing toward the altar. Sofia followed its gesture, her eyes landing on the stone surface.
There, in the center of the altar, was an object she hadn’t noticed before—a small, weathered box. It looked ancient, its surface carved with the same symbols that adorned the tree and the altar. The whispers softened, their tone shifting to something almost pleading.
“Open it,” they seemed to say.
Sofia hesitated, her instincts screaming at her to run. But something about the box drew her in, a strange pull she couldn’t resist. She rose to her feet, her legs trembling, and took a cautious step toward the altar. The Rainwalker didn’t move, its hollow eyes fixed on her.
As she approached the box, the air grew colder. Her fingers hovered over it, hesitating. The whispers grew louder, their urgency almost unbearable. She clenched her teeth and forced herself to lift the lid.
The moment the box opened, the jungle erupted into chaos.
A deafening roar filled the air, drowning out the whispers. The ground trembled beneath her feet, and the trees seemed to shudder as a surge of wind tore through the clearing. From the box, a black mist began to rise, coiling and twisting like a living thing. It spread rapidly, consuming the light and plunging the clearing into darkness.
Sofia stumbled backward, her heart racing. The Rainwalker let out an unearthly screech, its skeletal body contorting as the mist engulfed it. For a moment, she thought it was being destroyed—but then she realized the truth.
It wasn’t being destroyed. It was being freed.
The mist coalesced around the Rainwalker, merging with it, transforming it. The creature’s body grew larger, its limbs elongating, its form becoming more monstrous. Its hollow eyes glowed with an eerie light, and its whispers returned, louder and more menacing than before.
Sofia turned and ran, her feet slipping on the muddy ground. She didn’t know where she was going—she only knew she had to get away. The jungle seemed to close in around her, the branches clawing at her like hands. The whispers followed her, relentless, echoing in her mind.
“You cannot run.”
She tripped over a root and fell hard, the impact knocking the air from her lungs. Gasping, she tried to push herself up, but her body refused to cooperate. She could hear the Rainwalker behind her, its footsteps slow and deliberate, as though it enjoyed the hunt.
Desperation surged through her, and she reached for the only weapon she had: the scrap of cloth in her hand. It was ridiculous, but it was her mother’s—it was all she had left of her. She clutched it tightly, praying for a miracle.
The whispers stopped.
Sofia froze, her heart hammering. The silence was deafening, more terrifying than the noise had been. She turned her head slowly, her eyes searching the darkness.
The Rainwalker was gone.
For a moment, she thought she was safe. But then the rain began to fall harder, the droplets stinging her skin like needles. The whispers returned, softer now, but more insidious. They weren’t coming from the jungle anymore—they were coming from inside her head.
“You brought this upon yourself,” the voices said. “You opened the door. Now, there is no escape.”
Sofia staggered to her feet, clutching the cloth to her chest. She didn’t know what had happened to the Rainwalker, but she knew one thing: the jungle wasn’t going to let her leave.
Not alive.
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