Chapter 14: It’s not a knock of the living.
"What in the..." Mikel hissed, staring at his bruised back through the small mirror above the sink in the tiny bathroom. He hadn't noticed them earlier when changing out of the hospital gown—just the one on his shoulder.
But now, patches of purple bruises blossomed on his back. It didn't hurt, but it definitely looked concerning.
Should I get it rechecked?
Mikel arched a brow, half-expecting Doom to answer. But it didn't.
"You there?" he muttered, slowly ignoring the bruises on his back.
[Your battle with the Nightbound has its effect on the waking world, Master.]
"I know that," he clicked his tongue faintly, glancing at his bruises in the mirror once again. He sighed heavily and tossed the small towel over his head, ignoring what was already there. It wasn't like he could change the past.
Walking out of the bathroom, the living room on the first floor quickly came into view. Mikel's eyes landed on the old couch with its worn-out patches. Another shallow breath slipped past his nostrils as he sat down.
On the coffee table lay the Book of the Dead and the fake talismans he had gotten from the phony shaman. Just as he was about to reach for the talismans, the grimoire suddenly opened. Its pages flipped madly as if caught in a strong gust of wind—except there was no wind; every door and window was sealed shut
A murky scent of burnt paper wafted through his nostrils as thin, silent smoke ascended from the pages. His hand moved on its own, fingertips brushing the page as letters slowly burned into it. The letters looked ancient—something Mikel shouldn't have been able to understand. Yet somehow, he understood them perfectly.
[Not all whispers are meant to be heard.]