Here's a slightly tweaked version for smoother flow while keeping your style intact:
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Prologue: The First Chain
It rained that night. It always rained when someone disappeared.
Thunder cracked like breaking bones in the sky as Eve Elle descended the basement stairs. Her footsteps were slow, trembling, as if the house itself was warning her to turn back. But curiosity was stronger than fear. And fear—real fear—hadn't yet introduced itself to her.
The scent hit her first: blood and rust, soaked into old wood and concrete. Then came the cold—a damp, clinging chill that wrapped around her like a second skin. The single bulb overhead flickered, struggling to stay alive.
She saw him.
Chained to rusted pipes, his body slumped. Lifeless… or nearly. His head lolled to the side, and when he groaned, it wasn't pain she heard—it was regret. Blood pooled beneath him, mingling with the dark, wet petals of a red rose.
Her lips parted to scream, but no sound came.
"Eve…" he rasped, his voice thinner than the wind.
Then another voice—one that didn't belong to the bleeding boy.
It came from behind her.
A whisper.
Do you remember what you did?
She spun around. No one was there. Only shadows, shifting and breathing like living things. Her heart pounded like fists against locked doors. The voice came again, closer this time, softer:
You promised you'd forget.
Her knees buckled. She collapsed beside the chained boy, reaching for him—trying to wake him. But then she felt it.
Her wrists. Heavy.
Chains.
Thick iron cuffs bound her hands. She hadn't noticed before. She didn't even know how they got there.
The rose.
The chains.
The voice.
They weren't new.
The light bulb burst. She screamed into the dark.
And no one came.
Just the rain.
And the whisperer.
Watching.