THE THREAD OF SHADOWS

ible threads that crisscrossed the people walking by. Threads of deceit, betrayal, and guilt-each one connected to a hidden truth. She saw it all. Sienna was used to this view of the world, though it

voice barely more than a whisper. "But I need you to understand something. If I find out she's gone willingly, that she's in over her head by choice, there's nothing I can do. I'm not here to save anyone from themselves." Marta's eyes welled with tears, but she nodded. "Just find her. Please." Sienna stood, pulling her coat tighter around herself. "I'll do what I can." As she left the diner, the cold night air wrapped around her like a shroud. The city streets seemed darker than usual, the shadows longer, heavier. And in the back of her mind, a thread tugged at her consciousness, pulling her toward something she couldn't yet name. Something was coming. And whatever it was, it was already inside her world, twisting everything around it. She just didn't know how deep the darkness ran. The night swallowed her whole as Sienna stepped out of the diner, the cold biting at her skin. She pulled her coat tighter, her boots clicking against the damp pavement as she made her way through the quiet streets. The city was never fully silent, but tonight, it felt like the noise had been sucked into some unseen void. Her mind lingered on the old woman's words, but it was the journal tucked inside her coat that weighed heavily on her. Occult societies, missing daughters, dark secrets... It was the kind of thing that usually meant trouble. And Sienna had seen enough trouble to know it rarely came alone. The threads around her felt different tonight, too. As she passed people on the street, their threads seemed thinner, like they were fading. Normally, the strands connecting people to their actions were vivid-pulsing with energy. Tonight, though, everything felt muted, as if reality itself was retreating into the shadows. Sienna stopped at a street corner, her eyes drawn to the old, decaying mansion at the end of the block. It loomed over the other buildings like a specter, its windows dark and hollow. A shiver ran down her spine. It was the kind of place where nightmares lived, where things went to die. She hesitated for a moment, then headed toward it. The mansion had been abandoned for years, but rumors still swirled about it-whispers of strange occurrences, of people going missing. Now, it seemed, it was connected to Lena. As she approached, the air seemed to grow colder. The shadows here were thick, unnatural. Sienna stood at the wrought-iron gate, staring up at the towering structure. Something about the place felt wrong-like it was breathing, waiting. The threads around the mansion were barely visible, as if they had been severed long ago. She slipped through the gate, her heartbeat quickening as she approached the front door. The wood was rotting, and the paint had long since peeled away, but the door creaked open with an eerie ease. As she stepped inside, the smell of dust and decay hit her like a wall. The foyer was massive, with a grand staircase leading to the second floor. Broken mirrors lined the walls, and the floorboards creaked under her feet. Shadows seemed to dance at the edges of her vision, shifting with every step. She reached into her coat, pulling out Lena's journal. Flipping through the pages, she found frantic scrawls, notes about strange rituals, symbols, and something called "The Thread of Shadows." Her eyes narrowed as she read, her mind trying to make sense