Romances de Lyosha

The mark on Jovan’s wrist felt less like ink and more like a live wire stitched under his skin. It throbbed in time with his heartbeat, the metallic, oil-slick lines radiating a faint, sickly heat that made the hair on his arms stand up.“It’s moving, isn’t it?” Thiago’s voice was tight, his eyes locked on the shifting geometry of the ink.Jovan didn’t answer at first. He just stared at his pulse point, watching as the lines of the symbol seemed to stretch and reset, like the gears of an impossible clock. “Yeah. It’s twitching. I can feel it pulling, Thiago. Like it’s trying to drag me out of my own skin.”Thiago didn’t look away. He moved closer, the floorboards of the bedroom groaning under his weight. “Don’t touch it. I’m serious. If you mess with the integrity of the line, you’re just going to make it easier for things to climb through.”“Things? What kind of things?” Jovan asked, his voice wavering as he pulled his sleeve back down to cover the mark.“The kind that don't have a n

The walk home had been a blur of adrenaline and shivering silence. Jovan had barely managed to unlock his front door before collapsing onto his bed, his clothes still smelling of damp earth and woodsmoke. He hadn't told his parents a word; he had just trudged upstairs, locked his bedroom door, and let the exhaustion pull him under.But sleep was a liar.As soon as his eyes closed, the world shifted. It wasn't a dream—not the kind where you forget the details once you wake. This was a visceral, heavy immersion.He was standing in a room made of cold, weeping stone. The air smelled of ozone and ancient, stale incense. In the center of the chamber, Elias sat on the floor, his back turned to the door. He was hunched over a series of intricate, glowing patterns carved into the dark flagstone. He looked thinner, his hair matted and overgrown, but he was alive.“Elias?” Jovan called out. His voice felt muffled, as if he were shouting through a thick pane of glass.His brother didn’t turn aro

The forest floor was a jagged, unforgiving gauntlet of exposed roots and slick mud. Every time Jovan’s sneakers found purchase, he felt like his lungs were collapsing. Behind them, the gliding sound of the silver-masked figures—the Watchers—was relentless, a persistent rustling that seemed to come from everywhere at once.Thiago skidded to a halt near the edge of the creek, his chest heaving, his hands clawing at the bark of a thick pine tree. He spun around, slamming his back against the trunk and pulling Jovan into the shadows."Stay down," Thiago hissed, his voice raw."They’re right behind us," Jovan gasped, clutching the file to his chest as if it were a shield. "We’re trapped, Thiago. Look at the creek, it’s not even moving. It’s like the water’s frozen."Thiago peeked around the side of the tree, his expression grim. "That’s the barrier. They’re locking down the geometry of the woods. Don't look at their eyes. If you make direct eye contact with a Watcher, they can anchor your

The rhythmic, metallic dragging sound echoed through the archives, vibrating against the steel door. It was heavy, wet, and rhythmic—the sound of something unnatural carving a path through the silence. Jovan’s breath hitched in his throat, and he backed away from the row of cabinets, his hands clutching the empty folder like a shield.“Thiago,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “That doesn’t sound like a security guard. That doesn’t even sound like a person.”Thiago didn’t look back. He was already shoving the iron pulse device into his pocket, his eyes darting toward the narrow, high-mounted window at the back of the room. “It’s not. It’s an Enforcer. The Council uses them to clean up loose ends when the bureaucracy isn’t enough. They don’t have pulses, and they don’t have mercy. Get down.”“What do you mean, get down? We’re in a trap!”“I know we’re in a trap, kid! Move!”Jovan scrambled behind a massive, industrial-sized copier, his heart hammering against his ribs so hard it felt

The gravel crunched beneath their boots, a sharp, rhythmic sound that seemed deafening in the stillness of the schoolyard. The moonlight turned the world into a series of jagged silhouettes and deep, ink-black pools. Jovan’s heart hammered against his ribs—not from the fear of the shadows this time, but from the weight of the photograph burning in his pocket.He stopped abruptly, turning toward Thiago. “Wait.”Thiago didn't stop immediately, his hand already reaching for the latch of the basement bulkhead. He pivoted, his face a mask of impatient irritation. “What now? We’re losing the window, Jovan. If the shift changes, the patrols start.”“Stop lying to me,” Jovan said, his voice hard.Thiago let out a sharp, incredulous huff, his posture stiffening. “Excuse me? What are you talking about?”Jovan didn’t hesitate. He pulled the leather-bound journal from his bag, the worn spine creaking in his grip. He flipped to the back, his fingers trembling as he slid the photograph out and held

The woods bordering the school grounds were a tangled mess of briar and shadow. Thiago didn't stop moving until they reached a small, concrete maintenance shed tucked behind the overflow drainage pipes. He kicked the rusted door open, revealing a cramped, dusty space that smelled faintly of ozone and old, dry rot.“Get in,” Thiago barked, his voice still ragged from the fight. “And keep that door tight. The scent needs to stay inside.”Jovan stepped over a pile of rusted gardening shears, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. He watched as Thiago fumbled with a flashlight, the beam cutting a harsh, shaky line through the thick dust.“What was that thing, Thiago? Seriously. It didn’t look like a ghost. It didn’t look like anything from a horror movie.”Thiago slumped down against the concrete wall, letting the light fall to the floor. He looked drained, his leather jacket torn at the shoulder where the creature had clawed at him. “It’s a Void-Stalker. They’re basica