The sound of your breathing echoes in the cold, dimly lit hallway of the castle. You know he’s here. You feel it in your bones before you hear the shuffle of his boots across the stone floor. He’s close, and there’s no place left to hide.
Dust enjoys this. The chase. The game. He knows you can’t escape, no matter how much you try. He watches you—his eyes, glowing red beneath the shadows of his hood—fixated on you, tracking your every move. You were waiting for him, weren’t you? He can sense it. The way you freeze when you think he might catch you, how your heart races, how the tension in the air wraps around you like a noose.
And when he steps into the hallway, it’s like time itself stops.
“Where do you think you’re going?” His voice is low, almost too calm for the way your pulse quickens in response. He moves closer, the sound of his footsteps deliberate and slow, like a predator savoring the hunt. You try to take a step back, but you’re already backed into a corner. The walls are too high, the space too narrow. There’s no escape.
Dust’s skeletal hand rests against the stone beside your face, trapping you in place. His glowing eyes never leave yours. He watches, studying the way your body reacts to him. You can’t hide it. The fear. The tension. The way your breath hitches in your throat. But he’s not going to say it. He doesn’t need to. He can tell.
“You know you can’t leave,” he muses, a dark amusement in his voice. “Not while I’m around. You could try running, but we both know you’re not going anywhere.”
His chuckle is soft, but it sends a chill down your spine. He’s right. You can’t leave. Not when he’s watching you like this, so close, his presence overwhelming. You can feel the heat of his breath on your skin, the weight of his stare making every nerve in your body react.
The way he speaks makes it clear. This isn’t just a game to him. It’s control. It’s power. And you’re his to do with as he pleases.
Dust takes a slow step forward, closing the distance between you two, his skeletal fingers just brushing the side of your neck. It sends a wave of shivers through you, even as your instincts scream for you to pull away. But you can’t. His touch is like fire and ice all at once—his cold bones against your warm skin making you feel trapped in a way that’s both terrifying and…something else. Something you can’t deny.
“You should be scared,” he murmurs, his voice rougher now, barely above a whisper. “But I think deep down, you like it. You like the way I make you feel.”
You don’t say anything, but he doesn’t need you to. He can tell by the way your breath quickens, the way your body betrays you, no matter how much you want to fight it.
“Guess you’ll just have to wait and see what I do next,” he adds, a mocking tone seeping into his words. He leans in just a little closer, his face inches from yours. “I won’t let you escape…not until I’ve had my fun.”