Elara's Point of View
I tried to get some sleep. I really did.
The moonlight was thin and cold as it fell across my bed. My blankets were all twisted up around my legs. It hurt all over my body, and my chest felt heavy and tight. But no matter how I moved or breathed, sleep would not come.
And then I felt it: a presence that was soft, familiar, and impossible.
He whispered, "Elara," and my heart raced.
I jumped up. "Silas!"
He was there, leaning against the doorframe, with dark, unreadable eyes. He looked like he was alive. More real than ever before. The way his hair fell across his forehead, the shape of his lips, and the warmth that came off of him took my breath away.
"I shouldn't be here," he said in a low, careful voice.
"I am," I said. My voice shook, half in relief and half in need. "And I'm happy." I waited.
He moved closer, slowly and on purpose. I felt weak in the knees. Every instinct told me to stop, but I wanted him to come closer. He stopped just short, close enough for me to feel the heat from his body.
He said softly, almost scolding, "You've been pushing yourself too hard." "You don't have to stay up for me." It's not safe.
"Is it dangerous?" I laughed again, and it sounded like I was broken. "What is dangerous? Loving you? Wanting you?
His eyes got darker. He leaned in and pushed a piece of hair out of my face. I couldn't breathe. I could smell him. He smelled warm, like rain after a fire, and my chest tightened and my heart raced.
"Exactly," he said in a low, warning voice. "Wanting me is bad." It will cost you to be with me.
"I don't care!" I whispered and reached for him with shaking hands. "I want this." I want you.
His jaw tightened and he flinched at what I said. "I told you, Elara."
"I'm not afraid of a warning," I said as I got closer. "I'm not scared of anything as long as you're here."
His hand was close to mine. Only a few inches apart. The tension between us was too much to handle; it was electric and alive. I could feel every nerve in my body come to life. I wanted to cross the gap, touch him, and show him he was real.
"Do you even know what you want?" he said softly.
"I know enough," I said in a low voice. "I know I want you."
He took a quick breath and then leaned in closer. Our breaths mixed. I could feel his warmth on my face and his body pushing against mine. The pull between us was too strong to resist.
His hand brushed mine lightly, as if by accident. Sparks flew up my arm. I gasped.
He said, "You shouldn't do that," but his voice was thick with something I couldn't name.
"I can't help it," I said. "I won't help it."
He leaned in even more, putting his forehead against mine. His lips were very close to mine. My heart raced. My chest hurt. My fingers twitched because they wanted to touch him all the way and feel him as more than air and shadow.
And then he suddenly pulled back, letting his hand fall to his side.
"Elara..." His voice cracked. "I can't—this is too much." You're going to get hurt.
"I don't care!" I said, angry and hopeless. "I don't care if it's risky! I'm here. "I'm not going!"
For a moment, his eyes softened with longing and pain. He whispered, "You're not like me." "I... I can't give you what you want."
"I don't need what I deserve!" I said, my voice shaking. "I need you." "That's enough!"
He shook his head, torn between two choices. He said, "You're going too far." "Your body... you're tired. Not strong. You don't know how this is affecting you.
I stopped moving. My chest felt heavier and tighter than it had before. I felt a wave of dizziness come over me. "I'm fine," I whispered, but even I could tell my voice sounded empty.
"No, you're not," he said firmly, holding my arms gently but firmly. "Look at yourself. Elara, you're fading. Your skin... your eyes... you're... slipping.
I pulled back, angry, and my hands were shaking. "I don't care!" I want this! I picked this! "I'm not scared!"
His eyes got darker with worry, pain, and something fierce. He leaned in closer, barely touching me again, and whispered, "You think you can choose this, but the house doesn't care." I don't care. and it will take more than what you know.
I swallowed, but I couldn't stop looking. "I'm not scared of the house." I don't fear you. I... As long as you're here, I'm not scared of anything.
There was a pause between us. It was very heavy. Full. Electric. I could feel the weight of our hearts pressing together without really touching. It was so close that it made my chest burn and my mind spin.
After that, he did something that surprised me. He kissed me softly and quickly, like a stolen kiss that made my knees weak. I wanted to become one with him. I wanted more. My heart raced and my pulse quickened.
He pulled back right away, almost violently. "Elara!" he yelled, but his voice broke with emotion. "Stop!" You can't! You don't know what's at stake!
"I don't care!" I cried and pressed closer. "I want this!" I want you! "I don't care how much it costs!"
He looked at me with his chest rising and falling. Then he stepped back from me, torn and in pain. "I... There is no choice for you here. You don't get what this is...
"I know enough!" I said, my eyes welling up with tears. "I pick you, Silas." That's all I need to know.
He took a deep breath. His hands tightened and then slowly relaxed. "You... you're crazy," he said in a low, almost soft voice.
"Maybe," I said, with a soft, shaky laugh. "But I don't care."
We stood there for a long time. My chest hurt. I felt dizzy. At the same time, I wanted him, was afraid of him, wanted him, and hated myself for it.
Finally, he said, "I have to go." His voice was tight. "Before the sun comes up."
I reached out to him, but he disappeared.
Again.
The room felt empty. Nothing. My fingers hurt where his hand had just been. It hurt my chest more. It felt colder in the house. More difficult. Quiet in a way that made me scream.
I fell to the floor, feeling dizzy and my heart racing. I could feel how much it cost to want him: the heaviness in my chest, the tiredness, and the shaking. My vision got a little blurry, and the air in my lungs felt thick and heavy.
I put my hands on my face. I whispered, "This... this is killing me." "And I can't stop."
Time went by. The morning came slowly and gray. I leaned against the walls as I stumbled toward the bathroom. I stopped when I saw my reflection in the mirror.
There was something wrong.
I blinked. Concentrated. And stopped.
The reflection that looked back at me wasn't mine.
It was his. Silas's face. Pale, ghostly, with soft, deep eyes that looked straight into mine. My heart raced into my throat.
I instinctively reached for the glass. My hands shook. My reflection moved, and his lips turned into a crooked smile.
I gasped. "No, this can't be real..."
The air around me felt heavy. A lot. Living. The house creaked as the wood settled, almost like a breath. I could hear my heart beating in my ears.
And then a soft, close whisper came to my mind:
"Elara..."
I stumbled back, barely able to stand up. My chest hurt and my legs were weak. All of my nerves hurt. The house, the mirror, Silas, everything felt alive, dangerous, and impossible.
I wanted to go. I wanted to yell. I wanted him. I wanted to be safe.
I didn't have any.
And I knew, with a terrifying clarity, that nothing—nothing—would ever be the same again.
Elara wakes up to find that her reflection is gone and Silas's face is there instead. She hears his whisper in her head. The danger, desire, and forbidden closeness have grown, and the house itself seems to be alive.