22. Walls Closing In

The air is heavy with the smell of damp earth, blood, and moonlight. I stretch my body, feeling the cushions below me mold to my shape. Damn, when was the last time I slept this well?

Soft sighs slip from my lips as I savor the moment, trying to hold onto this feeling a little longer. I sink deeper into the bed, the silky sheets caressing my skin, and a smile spreads across my face. The ache in my body has melted away, leaving only a sweet satisfaction. I don't feel anything except it as the moment drags on deliciously.

What more could a girl ask for? Peace, quiet, and comfort, I muse to myself. That is, until I slowly open my eyes and nearly have a heart attack.

A cocked head with two soulless eyes is inches from my face, staring right into me. Thick black hair spills down, tangling with mine.

"Oh, shit," I mutter, tensing in the bed and clutching my chest. My heart pounds, ready to burst from my ribcage. "Echo…"

"Hello, my Little Soul," he purrs, his gaze turning hooded. "It's news to me that you can sleep in my realm, just like in the human world."

My breath hitches as I take in his appearance. He towers over me, dressed completely differently from the last time I saw him. Last night, he wore only sleek, shiny leather pants, no shirt. Now, he's even more scantily clothed—downright freaking slutty.

His main piece is a pair of tight, black leather pants that hug his muscular legs like a second skin. Dark silver accents trace the seams, catching the scarce moonlight filtering in from the second cavern. Multiple straps and buckles secure the pants, and his upper body is nearly bare, adorned only by an elaborate harness that winds around his chest and shoulders.

He looks unhinged, but damn, he also looks fucking sexy.

My gaze is instantly captivated by his chiseled abs, taut and firm under the leather straps. His skin, stretched thin over the muscles, creases slightly as he crouches above me, legs spread wide.

"O-oh, really?" I stutter. "This has happened to me before, you know. Right after you left me in the woods. I thought maybe I'd... wake up in the real world again. Wait a minute... shouldn't you already know that?"

Echo blinks.

"I can't hear your thoughts when I'm away," he says, tilting his head to the side in an oddly unnatural way. "But I don't mind. This surprise was nice. Maybe I should allow myself to be more... unknowing in the future." He pauses, blinking slowly. Something shifts in him—it's subtle but unmistakable. He moves closer, his chilly breath grazing my ear. "Were you dreaming about me?"

I shiver, torn between fear and an odd thrill that his presence brings. "I... I don't remember. I don't think I dreamt at all."

A smack of his lips. A deep groan coming from his chest.

"Mm," he muses. "That's a shame. I was curious about what might happen if you did." He trails a claw lightly across my cheek, sending another shiver down my spine. It's so sharp, that he could easily draw blood if he wanted to. "How did it feel, sleeping here? Do you feel any different?"

My eyes widen as each question races in quicker than the last. Is this what he meant about allowing himself to be more unknowing? Has he stopped reading my thoughts?

Echo? Have you? Have you stopped?

Nothing.

With no sign that he heard me, his claw travels to my neck, the needle-like tip turning motionless on my artery. I feel my pulse quicken against it.

"That's…" I can't even finish.

"I've got an even better question for you," he cuts me off, his voice no longer urgent but a slow, gut-wrenching hiss. "Why aren't you as scared of me as you were yesterday? And yet, somehow, you smell even better?"

The question lingers, thick with menace. My mind spins, grappling with the implications. Not that scared of him? I'm fucking terrified. What is he talking about?

"I don't know," I whisper, my voice barely audible. The claw at my neck tightens slightly.

"I could spill your blood right now," he threatens. "We could paint this whole cavern with your pretty maroon paint."

The cold, cruel edge in his voice makes me dizzy. I try to swallow, but my throat is dry, my heart pounding so hard it feels like it might burst. The tip of his claw digs in just enough to break the skin, a tiny droplet of blood welling up and sliding down my neck.

My body starts to tremble, but even then, he's far from satisfied. Whatever is lacking from my reaction, makes him bare his teeth.

"Please, don't," I plead.

His eyes flick to the trail of blood that's tickling my skin.

"I see you trembling below me, and I hear your voice. But why don't I sense the same fear as before, hm? And why do you smell so sweet, despite everything?" He pulls back his claw, licking the tiny drop of blood from his finger. "You taste as sweet as you smell, too."

I shudder.

"You're not making any sense," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "I'm more than scared. I'm…"

"Changing," he shuts me off.

"What?"

"You're changing," he says. "I don't know how or why, and I've never seen anything like it before. But it's undeniable. You even smell different." He looms over me, his presence dark and suffocating. "Get up," he orders, leaving no room for defiance. "We're going to play a game." With a swift motion, he leaps off the bed, landing beside it.

My heart skips a beat. I force myself to stand on shaky legs, feeling the cold, rough floor beneath my feet. "What kind of game?" I manage to ask once I'm up.

Before I can react, he darts to the corner of the cavern and opens a wardrobe that definitely wasn't there last night. It's a simple wooden piece, adorned with carvings that look straight out of the eighteenth century. He flings open the doors and pulls out a white fabric and another lacy white item.

"Take off those rags. They used to suit your poor, tormented little soul, but now they're just dull," he says with a twisted smile. "I want to see you in something more... macabre."

I hesitate, staring at the garments in his hands. The smooth white dress, buttoned from the chest to the base of the neck, ends with a neat collar. The laced piece is unmistakably a corset. My fingers fumble with the tattered clothes I've been wearing, and my heart leaps into my throat.

The plain white dress he laid out for me feels like it's straight out of a horror movie—like it belongs to some barefoot girl standing by the roadside with wild, tangled hair. And then there's the corset, a whole new kind of nightmare. I can already see him tightening it inch by inch until I can barely breathe, my chest straining against its iron grip, veins bulging on my neck and face...

"Hurry up," Echo growls, sounding really impatient. Then he suddenly switches to a more playful tone. "Need some help?"

He's moody. Unstable like the wind. Through it all, I can't help but notice the clear outline of his cock pressing against his pants. He's just as aroused as he is insane.

"No," I whisper, shaking my head. "I can do it myself."

I strip off the remnants of my clothes one by one. The cavern air bites at my bare skin, but once I'm fully undressed, my blood turns so hot that it almost makes up for the chill. Echo steps closer, handing me the white fabric and the lace.

"Put these on."

I take the garments from his hands, my fingers trembling. The white dress feels both soft and heavy, its weight pressing against me, while the lace of the corset scratches my skin. As I slip into the dress, the fabric clings to me, molding to my shape as I button it up.

I try to wrap the corset around me. The laces keep slipping through my fingers, and my nerves make everything feel like a clumsy mess. Echo steps closer, his shadow falling over me, and I can practically feel his impatience building up like a storm about to hit.

"As much as I like to see you struggle, this is just plain mundane, Clarity." He steps behind me, takes the laces from my hands, and starts tightening them, inch by inch.

The corset tightens around my ribs, pressing the breath out of me. I gasp, my vision blurring as he pulls the laces tighter and tighter. Just when I feel like I'm on the brink of passing out, he stops, easing the laces just enough to let me breathe. It's just a sliver of relief, nothing more.

"There," he whispers against my ear. "Perfect."

I feel like an iron vice is crushing my chest, but I force myself to stand tall. In the meantime, Echo tailors the white gown with a loose fit at my cleavage, revealing the reddened skin of my breasts underneath.

"Now, let's see what's changed," he murmurs, his voice a soft purr. He reaches out, his finger tracing a line down my face, giving me goosebumps. "The rules are simple. You'll run out of the cavern and into the maze. I'll stay here and count to ten before I come after you. Sound good?"

Cold sweat breaks out on my forehead. "You'll chase me?" I ask, my voice trembling. "While I'm in a corset…?"

This is just as terrifying as it is ridiculous.

He licks his lips before hooking a claw over the bodice. Little threads of fabric croak as he runs over them.

"Something about this garment always drove me crazy. I loved it when it was all the rage. Nothing adds a little extra fear like the inability to breathe." His smile is nothing short of predatory.

My stomach churns. Of course, that's why he likes it. "What happens if you catch me?"

He leans in closer, his breath cold against my skin. "If I catch you, Clarity, I'll have to punish you for losing the game. And you don't want to lose, do you? You want to be a good girl."

I nod my head, my voice failing me.

"Good," he says, stepping back. "Then, run, Clarity."

He snaps his fingers, and shadows spring to life, twisting and writhing around us. The dimly lit cavern plunges into deeper darkness as the moonlight is swallowed up. Panic surges through me, and without a second thought, I turn and sprint, my bare feet slapping against the cold, jagged floor.

I dash into the second room, Echo's maniacal laughter trailing behind me, echoing in my ears despite my efforts to block it out. It's only when he starts counting—way ahead of time—that I latch onto the sound, clinging to it like a lifeline.

"One..."

I push myself to run faster, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The dress clings to my legs, hindering my movements, and the tightness of the corset makes it really hard to breathe. I fall into the corridor of the maze, darkness pressing onto me.

"Two..."

I don't see anything. I only move on instinct, letting my feet and hands guide me. It's difficult though. The rough stone cuts my skin, making hot liquid drop behind me.

"Three..."

Echo's laughter echoes behind me, every mocking note making my heart pound even harder. The maze is a pitch-black trap, and each step is a frantic, blind leap into the unknown. My feet are bleeding badly, leaving a trail of blood as I stumble forward.

It's like I'm leaving a trail of meat scraps for a pack of hungry dogs—or worse, one big, bad wolf!

"Four…"

My vision is swimming. I turn a corner and find myself in a narrow corridor, the walls closing in around me. The air is thick with the smell of damp earth and the metallic tang of my own blood. Or maybe it's the blood that's seeped into this place, forever mingling with the rocks.

"Six..."

Panic surges through me. I can hear his footsteps now, echoing through the maze, getting closer with each passing second. He shouldn't be chasing me. I still should have time. But of course, he's chasing me before that. Of-fucking-course.

I push forward, my fingers trailing along the walls, trying to find any semblance of direction in the darkness.

"Seven..."

I stumble again, my knees hitting the ground hard. The pain is sharp and immediate, but I force myself to stand, to keep moving. The sound of Echo's voice is closer now, a sinister whisper carried on the cold air.

"Eight…"

The pain becomes too much. I stop in the middle of some corridor that I lost track of. I don't know where I am. Even if I wanted to go back to the cavern, I wouldn't know how. The maze reeked of blood from the start. Now, it's all I can feel.

"Nine…"

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. The pain shoots through me, but it's not the only thing I feel. Fear, confusion… Excitement. I feel tingling at the tips of my fingers.

"Ten…"

This run was futile from the very beginning. I knew Echo would find me. He would always find me. I dread it… But I also made peace with it. Also… I think I want it.

"Ready or not, here I come, my Little Soul." His voice sounds out all around me. It's like he's the darkness itself. Every nook, every cranny, every sharp edge of the maze seems to pulse with his presence. I can feel him in the air I breathe, in the blood coursing through my veins. He's everywhere, inside and out.

I stand there, trembling, my breath shallow and quick, thanks to this suffocating corset. Each attempt to draw a full breath is futile. So, I wait, heart pounding, for him.

Time seems to stretch on endlessly as I wait, the silence of the maze broken only by the sound of my own pitiful breathing. I can feel him getting closer. He feels just like in the real world, just like that silent companion, my only constant before I understood what he truly was. A demon, not a friend. A monster, not a silent observer.

But now, it's time for me to make peace with myself.

I like it. I've always liked it.

The way he torments me.

How I'm never truly alone.

His constant hunger for me.

I hear him again. His footsteps are nearly silent, a gentle whisper against the stone floor. But I can feel it—he's close, so very close.

"Clarity," he calls out, his tone gentle but carrying an edge to it. "I can sense you standing still. Good girls join the games, they don't sabotage them."

I press myself against the wall, my body trembling. I can't keep running. A part of me yearns to step out, to confront him. The darkness, the fear, the thrill—they all lure me in, like a siren's call I can't resist.

"I don't like this game anymore," I say softly. My pulse quickens, a wild, frantic rhythm that matches the erratic beat of my heart. There's a moment of silence that stretches on, long and suffocating. Then, a low growl reverberates through the maze. It's meant for me. I caused that growl.

"You will do what I say." His voice is now a deep, guttural snarl. "You belong to me."

I press harder against the wall, my hands clutching at the cold, rough stone. My mind's racing, torn between wanting to run and this weird, magnetic pull of the darkness that draws me to him.

"If I belong to you," I whisper, "then come take me."

Sometimes, courage is just another name for stupidity. Both of them come out of nowhere. Both of them carry risks. Frankly, I've stopped caring about either one.

The air grows colder. Even the thick white dress and corset don't do much to shield me from it. I sense him, so close I can almost feel his presence just inches away. Suddenly, his breath sears against my neck, sending a shiver down my spine.

He's come for me.

He's found me.

Only when I make myself turn his way do the shadows shift, revealing his smile emerging from the darkness. His teeth form a menacing slash, as if they could bite me in half. His eyes are wide, eyebrows arched.

"You've changed indeed," he exhales. "You have just challenged me."

I meet his gaze, my fear warring with something deeper, something darker. As he studies me, uncertain and hesitant, I realize I'm done letting my fears hold me back. I lost my life already. I've already lost everything that mattered. There's nothing left to lose. It's time to follow my own desires.

Like in a trance, I lift my slashed hand and run a bloody finger over his lips. In an instant, his eyes gleam with hunger so intense that it makes my abdomen clench. He licks them slowly, savoring the taste, his smile widening into a grin that makes my skin crawl and my heart accelerate. He makes that deep groaning sound I love and rolls his eyes in pleasure, and I feel warmth pooling between my thighs at the view.

The part of me that craves the darkness, that longs for his touch, grows stronger with every passing moment. I feel myself slipping deeper into the abyss, my resistance crumbling away.

Yes… This is exactly what I want. To see him like this.

"Fuck the game," I breathe out. "I like this better."

"You like this?" The malice flickers out of his face. If I were to say, I'd wager he's surprised, but I could never know that for sure. His mimic is not easy to decipher. Or rather… he just has a very small range of emotion he feels.

Hunger, malice, boredom.

He can pretend others. He pretended as the guardian spirit perfectly. But it's clear he never felt them—love, sadness, compassion, empathy. He slipped them onto his image like masks to get what he wanted. And he wanted me.

"What do you like?" he asks.

"I like watching you feed on me," I whisper earnestly, my nipples hardening in the bodice.His eyes darken with a fierce, malevolent hunger as he steps closer, gripping my chin and making me meet his intense gaze.

"You don't want to run away from me?" he asks, his breath quickening to match mine. "Is that what you're saying, my Little Soul?"

I know I should resist, should fight against the evil that he represents, but I can't. I'm already too far gone.

"Yes."

His eyes bore into mine, searching for any hint of defiance or hesitation. But he finds none. I am lost to him, consumed by the darkness and the hunger that we both share.

"Is that why you smell so sweet?"

"Maybe I intend to be the best you've ever had?" I counter with a question of my own. He mentioned earlier that the concept of "bad Claire" was my brainchild, born from my intentions mingling with my fears. Maybe this situation is just like that. Except it's not a product of fear, more like my deeply rooted desire for him, something so powerful I can't even control it.

Echo releases my chin, his fingers trailing down my neck, leaving a trail of icy fire in their wake. My breath hitches as he leans in closer, his lips brushing against my ear.

"Show me," he purrs. "Show me your intention."

My heart pounds in my chest, but I don't hesitate. Slowly, I begin to unlace the bodice of my dress, my fingers trembling as I reveal more and more of my pale skin. His eyes follow my movements, dark and hungry, and I can feel the heat of his gaze burning into me.

As the dress falls away, I stand before him, vulnerable and exposed. His eyes rove over my body, taking in every curve, every scar, every mark he placed that has still stayed there.

Then, with a sudden, almost violent motion, he pulls me to him, his lips crashing against mine.

Before I know it, he picks me up and carries me out of the maze, leaving the corset and the white dress behind.