Elara pressed her back against the headboard, knuckles white around the hammer’s handle. The candles had burned low. She’d stopped using lanterns months ago—light attracted them, or maybe it just made their shadows look more like people.
Slow. Measured. Not frantic. Hollow never hurried. Fear the Night
Elara looked at the hammer. At the boarded window. At the small crack beneath the door, where a thread of silver mist had begun to seep into the room, curling like a question mark. Elara pressed her back against the headboard, knuckles
Thump. Thump. Thump.
“What you are when the sun lies.”
“See what?” The words escaped before she could stop them. Fear the Night