Page 34 of Tower of Ash and Darkness (Tower of Ash #1)

I trudge to my bed, shrugging off my jacket and pulling my shirt over my head in one fluid motion. The chill of the room prickles at my skin but it does nothing to quiet my restless mind. Sliding beneath the sheet, I close my eyes, willing myself to find sleep, to dream of her.

I try to summon her—her voice soft in my ear, her touch brushing against mine.

I imagine her face, the fleeting moments when she lets her guard slip and I catch glimpses of the woman beneath the walls she’s built.

But the images refuse to stay. They fracture, slip through my fingers, and dissolve, leaving me grasping at nothing.

When sleep finally takes me, it brings no solace.

The dream claws at me the moment I close my eyes, dragging me into a suffocating abyss where the castle twists into something grotesque.

The walls breathe with a life of their own, slick with moisture that glistens like sweat in the dim torchlight.

The air is a heavy, putrid shroud, thick with the stench of decay and damp stone.

My steps echo unnaturally loud, yet the sound dies the moment it reaches the shadows that stretch endlessly in every direction. I am alone—or so I think.

The torches along the walls sputter, casting erratic, dancing silhouettes that seem to lunge toward me, writhing like living things.

My lungs burn, each breath a labor as the darkness presses closer.

Whispers slither through the air, faint and fragmented, brushing against my ears like cold fingertips.

They speak no words I can understand, but their intent is clear: I am not welcome here.

I walk faster, though I don’t know where I’m going.

The cold, damp stone beneath my boots feels alive, pulsating faintly, and I fight the urge to look down for fear of what I might see.

The shadows stretch impossibly long as the corridor stretches endlessly before me, but my body refuses to stop. Something drives me forward.

Then I hear it. Chains rattling somewhere in the distance, faint but distinct, followed by the softest cry. It’s enough to make my heart race, the sound so pitiful it feels like it’s digging its claws into me. My voice trembles as I call out.

“Who’s there?”

Silence answers. Thick, heavy silence that gnaws at my sanity. But then, just as I turn a corner, it comes—a whisper, so soft it could have been imagined.

“Casper…”

Her voice, cold and distant, like a shard of ice sliding down my spine. My body tenses, my heartbeat roaring in my ears as I break into a sprint. The torchlight flickers violently, threatening to snuff out entirely and leave me in darkness.

I see her then—just a glimpse—a frail figure shrouded in shadow.

Her icy blue eyes catch the dim light for the briefest moment before the darkness swallows her again.

My chest heaves as I push forward, chasing her, but the corridor twists unnaturally, disorienting me.

The walls seem to close in, the air growing thinner with every step I take.

“Where are you?” I shout, desperation cracking my voice. My words bounce off the stone, swallowed by the dungeon’s oppressive weight.

Another faint cry pierces the silence, sending adrenaline coursing through my veins. My boots skid against the slick stone as I round another corner, and that’s when I see him. Clyde .

He stands tall, his twisted smile illuminated by the faint torchlight.

His fangs glisten, sharp and wet, and at his feet is her crumpled form.

Her hair spills over her face, masking her features, but I know it’s her.

Her fragile body trembles with sobs, her hands and wrists bound by chains so tight they bite into her flesh, drawing blood.

The sight paralyzes me, and my throat tightens with a scream I can’t release .

Clyde’s cruel laughter echoes as he kneels beside her.

His monstrous hands cradle her face with mock tenderness, and my legs finally move.

I lunge forward, but the chains spring to life, snaking from the shadows and coiling around my arms and legs.

They pull tight, their jagged edges biting into my skin, dragging me to my knees.

“No!” I roar, my voice tearing from my throat, but it’s too late.

Clyde tilts her head, exposing her neck, and his eyes gleam with sadistic hunger.

“You’re too late,” he sneers, his voice dripping with malice. His fangs pierce her skin with a sickening crunch, and her body jerks violently before going still.

The world collapses around me. The dungeon walls seem to close in, the shadows surging like a tidal wave, and the chains twist tighter, breaking my bones as I thrash against them.

Pain rips through me, my vision blurring as blood drips from my wrists and tears stream down my face.

My screams are swallowed by the darkness, leaving only the wet, echoing sound of Clyde’s feeding.

The torches snuff out entirely, plunging me into absolute blackness. I am left alone with the sound of her lifeless body hitting the floor, her final breath lingering like a ghost in the silence.

I wake with a violent jolt, my body drenched in sweat, gasping as though I’ve just surfaced from drowning.

My wrists burn, and when I look down, I see raw, angry marks where the chains had bitten into my flesh in the dream.

My hands tremble as I bury my face in them, but the images won’t leave me.

Her blood, her pain, her broken body—it’s all burned into my mind.

And Clyde’s smile. That twisted, monstrous smile.

I stagger from the bed, my legs barely holding me as I stumble to the basin of water nearby. I splash the cold liquid onto my face, hoping to shake the remnants of the nightmare. Her voice still echoes in my ears, a haunting reminder that no matter how far I run, I will never escape her.

It wasn’t just a dream. I feel it in my bones, in the aching sensation lingering on my wrists.

I bury my face in my hands, blinking rapidly, trying to center myself, but all I can see— all I can feel —is her.

Her face, her tears, her pain. It’s as if the dream wasn’t just a nightmare; it’s as if it was something more, something I was meant to experience.

My mind is consumed with her. Always her .

And it hurts.