The Shadows Within: Wednesday: Child of Woe, #4
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About this ebook
Step into Wednesday's World of Darkness, where the ordinary meets the mystical. Wednesday, a master of dark arts, confronts an unexpected adversary—an age-old nemesis she had long her very first smartphone. Follow Wednesday on a chilling odyssey as diabolical plans take shape. Join her on a harrowing quest to fulfill a dark enchantment that promises to reshape the world in ways unimaginable. Brace yourself for a journey into horror and darkness that will leave an indelible mark on the realms of the mundane and the supernatural.
Francesco Santora
I learned long ago the best person to write the stroies I like is myself. If you want to come along too then welcom to my World of Darkness.
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The Shadows Within - Francesco Santora
V2 The Shadows Within
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The Shadows Within
Chapter 1: The Hearth of Anguish
The Hearth of Anguish, Wednesday’s arcane sanctum suspended between dimensions and sustained by her will and mastery of the dark arts. To the mundane world, its entrance resembled a normal doorway into a gothic mansion; a door that could manifest on any wall she desires. In the stillness and quiet candelabras cast wavering shadows on light grey walls adorned with labyrinthine lines—an eldritch tapestry etched by Wednesday's inclinations of the moment, the designs flowing in never-ending fractal patterns. Black scrying mirrors, crafted to such exquisite perfection that it made each one a masterpiece, adorned the walls.
Dressed in her usual funerary attire, accented by thick plaits each ending with a crimped silver skull that held a hangman’s loop in place. Wednesday stood before a smoldering fireplace taller than her, cradling a new model smartphone in her hands that she had recently procured. Igor, her tarantula familiar and confident, skittered across the sleeve of her blouse—a silent companion in the mystic proceedings about to begin. The air, thick with etheric energy, pulsated with the fiendish potential of what Wednesday contemplated.
Her fingers filigreed arcane patterns in the air, coaxing forth the unseen forces. The smartphone, who’s use was once strenuously resisted by her, would now become a canvas for black-hearted ambitions surpassing even social media. A smirk played on her lips, betraying a hint of satisfaction as she contemplated the abominable—infusing the device with preternatural corruption far beyond its usual ability to demoralize. The black mirrors upon the walls murmured in response, their spectral voices blending into a muted symphony. Unseen threads of magik, ethereal and dark, wove through the chamber.
Wednesday danced on the precipice of creation, moving over to a long work table with clawed cabriole legs grasping screaming heads mouthing their anguish silently, usually. The air crackled with otherworldly tension as the smartphone became a vessel for an unclean spirit, pulsed with unnatural energy. Yet, her calm expression remained unyielding, concealing the intensity within her gaze. In this now brightly lit chamber, Wednesday grasped and manipulated the threads of magik that reached beyond the veil, signaling the beginning of a dance between the corporeal and the ethereal.
The smartphone in her hands began to resonate, the eldritch designs etched on the walls pulsated in synchrony, creating a symphony of sorts. Igor's whispers, though unheard by human ears, echoed within the confines of Wednesday’s domain. His eight-legged dance mirrored Wednesday's own movements, a spectral ballet of mystic communion. Together, they wove the unseen threads tighter, forging a connection between the physical and the metaphysical.
The black mirrors, filled with leering faces, glared, sneered, and screamed silently as Wednesday harnessed her dark powers. Functioning as conduits to inhuman intelligences, the scrying mirrors shared forbidden knowledge with her. Wednesday, with a piercing focus, selected one mirror, causing it to vibrate with the voice of an observer to the ritual. A look of concentration appeared on her face as an ethereal energy ball grew between her hands, aflame with blood-red balefire. Igor's whispering grew more intense, resonating with the communion of powers in the room—a silent ballet of shadows, whispers, and arcane revelations. The atmosphere bore witness to their unholy alliance, each movement and word etching a dark narrative into the fabric of reality.
A symphony of eldritch energies resonated through her horizon domain. luminescent glyphs appeared and started drifting around the room, while Igor continued his spectral guiding of Wednesday through the labyrinth of mysteries of the arcane tapestry she weaved. The air grew even thicker and more charged, as the magik fibers she wove