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The Veil of Despair

  “I’m not sure I understand. I feel awake. I’ve been experiencing everything as if I’m fully conscious.” Khiyan’s gaze remains steady, a hint of mystery in his eyes. “Sometimes, reality and dreams intermingle in ways we don’t fully grasp. But you cannot stay here, Amaya. We have to leave.” “Leave? What are you talking about? You said I’m safe here. Why would I leave?” I ask, my voice trembling slightly. The serene atmosphere now feels unsettling. “Your soul does not belong in this place, Amaya. Your body has been left unattended for too long,” Khiyan explains, his tone gentle yet firm. “My soul?! I see now, you’re crazy,” I reply, a surge of panic rising within me. The calm I had felt moments ago seems to evaporate, replaced by a growing sense of dread. Khiyan’s eyes soften with sympathy. “I understand your fear. But this sanctuary, while it can offer solace, is not your true home. You must return to your body before it is too late.” “I am in my body right now!” I snap, my face flush
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The Labyrinth's Muted Melody

In my half-conscious state, I sense someone close, their hands skilled and tender. They move me from the hard ground to a more comfortable place, their movements careful and practised. It's as if it is not the first time they have cared for someone in such dire straits. I am vaguely aware of cool cloths pressed on my skin, the sting of antiseptic cleaning the cuts, and bandages being carefully wrapped around my limbs and abdomen. A gentle presence, unseen and silent, works to heal my battered body. The pain begins to ebb, replaced by a comforting warmth that spreads through me. At some point, a soft voice murmurs words I can’t quite make out, a lullaby of sorts, calming and reassuring. It reminds me of nights when my mother would sing me to sleep, her voice a gentle anchor in the dark. My eyelids grow heavy, and I succumb to the soothing melody. In the depths of my sleep, I find myself standing in a familiar place—a lush meadow bathed in the golden light of a setting sun. The air i
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The Labyrinth's Echo

My heart pounds in my chest as the creature's growls echo around me, closing in from every direction. I spin frantically, searching the moonlit garden for any sign of its looming form. Suddenly, searing pain erupts in my left arm as its claws tear through my flesh. My eyes widen in shock as pain radiates from the deep gashes, the reality sinking in with each heartbeat. Fighting back tears, I grit my teeth against the pain, determined to not let it overwhelm me. There’s no time for tears, Amaya. You need to get out of here. With a desperate glance over my shoulder, I turn on my heels to flee, my movements fueled by adrenaline and fear. The creature, its dark form looming ominously in the dim light, pauses to savour the sight of my anguish, a silent predator relishing its prey’s vulnerability. Desperation floods my mind as I sprint through the labyrinthine paths, the darkness at the garden’s edge seeming to trap me further. Branches whip at my face and arms as I push through the unde
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The Labyrinth’s Call

I awaken with a start, disoriented and drenched in sweat. I blink rapidly, trying to adjust to the light filtering through familiar curtains. I’m no longer in the library but in my bedroom at home. The walls are painted a soothing blue, adorned with hand-painted stars that my father and I created together. Each star holds a memory, a piece of our shared dreams. My gaze travels to the crisp, white duvet and pillows, a preference for cleanliness and simplicity that has always been my sanctuary. For a moment, I lie there, absorbing the comfort of my surroundings . The scent of vanilla from the sachets in my drawers mixes with the faint aroma of fresh linen. It’s a stark contrast to the musty, oppressive air of the library in my dream. That was an insane dream. It felt so real, so terrifyingly vivid. I sit up, my heart pounding, and look around, half-expecting the shadowy figures to emerge from the corners of my room. But all I see are familiar trinkets and mementos of my childhood—bookshe
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The Whispering Library

  I’m dead. That’s probably not how most people start their story, but it’s the truth. Well, sort of. I think I’ve been walking through life like a ghost long before I hit that point of no return. But dwelling on that won’t do us any favours, will it? So, hi. I’m Amaya—I insist you remember that. Not Maya, not Ama, not Amy, and certainly not any other variation. Just Amaya. Imperfect, flawed, and full of stories that spill over like cracks in an old book’s spine. I’ve made more bad calls than I care to admit. Some led me to make enemies with the kind of people who don’t forgive and never forget. Now, here I am, navigating the tangled mess my choices have woven, drawn inexplicably to a place they call the Darkest Library. Allow me to take you on a journey. Tonight, the city streets are cloaked in darkness, a stark reflection of the turmoil raging within me. The rain, once a source of comfort, now pelts down mercilessly, echoing the relentless battle I've faced. I stand alone in the
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