"LITTLE...SIAN..."The whisper echoed inside his head, cold and foreign, yet feeling incredibly personal. Siron let out a small yelp and buried his face in his hands, trying to block out the horrific sound and vision. When he dared to look back at the mirror, there was nothing left. Only his pale, wild-eyed face remained, the strange handprints on the shower glass having vanished.That night was a living nightmare. He couldn't sleep; every ordinary sound, the creak of a pipe, the hum of the refrigerator, the night wind, made him jump in terror. He turned on every light in the apartment, sitting on the sofa with a blanket wrapped around him, his eyes glued to the bathroom door. The word "Sian" spun in his mind. It was his childhood nickname, something only his family knew. Something his own hallucination shouldn't possibly know.The next morning, Siron went to Aethifolt campus with a weak body and dark circles under his eyes. The bright, bustling outside world felt like a blessing, yet
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