Chapter 21: Shadows of the Past

The storm outside howled like a beast, rattling the castle's windows as rain battered against the stone walls. Marcus Aurelius wandered the empty halls, his thoughts as restless as the weather. Sleep had eluded him for days, and tonight was no different. His mind kept turning over plans, responsibilities, and the weight of everything he had inherited.

He found himself walking down a corridor he didn't recognize, his steps slower as a strange feeling tugged at him. There, at the end of the hall, was a door. It looked ordinary enough at first glance, but as Marcus moved closer, he realized it wasn't quite right. The door seemed to shimmer, flickering in and out of existence as though it were a mirage.

He stopped, staring at it. Something inside him whispered, urging him to open it. His hand moved almost on its own, fingers brushing against the cold iron handle. Despite every instinct telling him to turn back, to walk away, he twisted the knob.

The door creaked open, revealing nothing but darkness. Thick, absolute blackness, like a void where no light could survive. Marcus hesitated, his heart thudding in his chest. There was no reason to go in, yet he couldn't turn away. He stepped forward.

As soon as he crossed the threshold, the door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing like a death knell. Panic spiked in his chest as he realized he couldn't see anything—not the door, not his own hands, nothing. It was like the world had disappeared, leaving him alone in this endless dark.

He tried to move, but it felt like his feet were stuck. He couldn't even feel the floor beneath him. His breathing quickened, his mind racing as he tried to figure out what was happening.

Suddenly, images started flashing before his eyes—memories he thought he had buried.

His old life. His parents. The phone call.

**"There's been an accident..."**

The words echoed in his head, the same words that had shattered his life in an instant. He could see it all again—his frantic drive to the hospital, the desperation clawing at his chest. The guilt. He hadn't been there for them.

And then the gunshot. The sudden, sharp pain in his chest. His breath hitched as he clutched at his heart, feeling the phantom wound as though it had just happened. His vision blurred as another memory surfaced.

**Ellie.** His sister. The car crash. He saw her lifeless body, crushed and bloodied, her face pale as she slipped away. He had failed her too.

"**No...**" Marcus gasped, his voice barely a whisper in the suffocating darkness. "**Ellie...**"

The memories kept coming, each one worse than the last. Every mistake, every failure. He saw his parents' disappointed faces, heard their voices telling him how he'd let them down. He relived the helplessness, the crushing guilt that had haunted him for so long.

"Why couldn't you save them?"

The question echoed around him, taunting him, dragging him down into despair. He could feel the weight of his failures pressing down on him, suffocating him.

His knees buckled, and he collapsed to the ground, his hands shaking as he covered his face. He was drowning in his own guilt, unable to escape the onslaught of painful memories.

"**Stop... please...**" he whispered, but the darkness didn't listen. It just kept coming, wave after wave of torment.

He couldn't take it anymore. The pain was too much. Tears streamed down his face as he fought to breathe, fought to stay conscious.

Then, out of the darkness, a voice whispered, soft but firm. 

**"You're not ready to know the truth yet."**

The words echoed in his mind, cutting through the chaos. He didn't understand what they meant, but they lingered, hanging in the air like a promise—or a threat.

And then, just as suddenly as it began, the darkness receded. Marcus gasped, his body jerking as he awoke, drenched in sweat. His heart pounded in his chest as his eyes snapped open, adjusting to the dim light of his room.

He was no longer in that dark, nightmarish place. He was back. But the terror still clung to him like a shadow, refusing to let go.

His breath came in ragged gasps as he realized where he was. He had fallen asleep beside his sister's bed, a chair pulled up next to her. And there she was, Ellie—no, Eleanor—sitting up in bed, her worried eyes fixed on him.

"Brother...?" she asked softly, her voice trembling. "Are you okay?"

Marcus blinked, trying to shake off the last remnants of the nightmare. He reached up to wipe his face, only to find his hand shaking. He forced a weak smile.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine," he lied, his voice hoarse.

But Eleanor wasn't convinced. She frowned, her small hand reaching out to touch his arm. "You were thrashing in your sleep... I was worried. You looked so... scared."

Marcus swallowed hard, his throat tight. "I'm fine, Ellie. Just... just a bad dream."

She didn't say anything for a moment, her wide eyes searching his face. Then, quietly, she added, "I miss them too, you know. Mom and Dad."

Her words cut through him like a knife. The memories of their parents' deaths in this life, and the overwhelming guilt from his past, swirled together, making it hard to breathe.

"I know," Marcus whispered, his voice barely audible. "I miss them too."

They sat there in silence for a while, the storm still raging outside. Eleanor leaned her head against his arm, and he felt the tension in his chest ease just a little. But the words from the dream still echoed in his mind, unsettling and cryptic.

"You're not ready to know the truth yet."

What truth? And why was it haunting him now?

Marcus didn't have any answers, but one thing was certain—something dark was lurking in the shadows of this world, and whatever it was, it had him in its sights.