The sharp knock at the door jolted her from her thoughts. Valeria dropped the notebook where she'd been jotting down everything she remembered about the mysterious man and rushed to the entrance. When she opened the door, no one was there… only a black envelope, perfectly centered on the doormat.
She picked it up carefully. No sender, no name, no stamp. Just her initial, V, handwritten in ink that seemed to shift subtly when stared at. Inside, a single folded sheet: a handwritten address and a warning.
"Trust no one who doesn't bleed."
A chill ran down her spine. The place was just a few blocks away. Her instinct screamed not to go, but something louder —that quiet thirst that had grown
since she opened the box— compelled her to move.
She grabbed her jacket, locked the door, and stepped out without looking back.
The sun was already hiding behind the buildings when Valeria reached the main avenue. She walked quickly, the envelope still tucked into the inner pocket of her jacket. The address wasn't far, but the air grew heavier with each step.
Suddenly, a sharp screech forced her to stop. A car slammed its brakes just a few meters in front of her. The driver rolled down the window. A middle-aged man with a scar on his cheek and eyes that watched too closely.
—"Valeria?" he asked, like he knew exactly who he was looking for.
She froze. She wasn't wearing anything that revealed her identity. No one should know her name.
—"You shouldn't go there alone," he added, nodding
toward the address on the envelope as if he could see it through her clothes.
—"Who are you?"
But he was already driving off, leaving behind the smell of smoke and a warning with no explanation.
Valeria stood still. For a moment, she considered turning back. But her feet had already decided to move forward.
The building looked abandoned. Peeling paint, shattered windows on the upper floors, and a rusted iron door gave no sign of life. But the number matched. This was the place.
Valeria swallowed hard and glanced down both sides of the street. No one. Just a thick, almost unnatural silence.
She pushed the door. It creaked but opened without resistance. Inside, the air smelled of dampness and old dust. A narrow hallway stretched ahead, and at the far end, a flickering light blinked erratically.
—"Hello?" she called out, her voice echoing off the walls.
No answer.
She moved forward slowly, each step ringing like an echo. The walls were covered in old papers—some with drawings, others with smudged ink and fragmented text. On one of them, her name: Valeria, written in handwriting she didn't recognize… yet felt strangely familiar.
She stepped closer to read it. It was a note, a single sentence written by hand:
"There are memories that only awaken when you're ready to face them."
A chill ran down her spine. Then, a door creaked behind her. She turned sharply. Someone was watching her from the shadows of the hallway.
Valeria froze.
She could feel eyes on her back—the kind of presence you don't explain, you just know. The air thickened, grew colder. She stepped backward without turning, as if not looking would make it disappear.
The paper with her name trembled in her hand.
—"Who's there?" she asked, barely more than a whisper.
No answer. Just the distant sound of dripping water and her own quickening breath.
She dared to look. No one. The hallway was empty, but she knew she wasn't alone. Something—or someone—had just slipped out of sight. She could feel it crawling on her skin.
She kept going. She needed answers.
At the end of the hallway, a slightly ajar door. She pushed it open gently. It was a small windowless room, full of old objects: a record player, a doll with no eyes, faded photographs pinned to the walls. In the center, a chair. And on it, a sealed envelope with her name.
She picked it up. It was warm… as if someone had just left it there seconds ago.
Valeria didn't open it right away. She just held it, sensing it was heavier than it should be.
And then she heard it—a soft sound behind her. Not a footstep. A breath.
But when she turned around… again, nothing.
Valeria still held the envelope when she heard a sharp creak. It didn't come from the room… it came from above.
She looked up. A barely visible hatch in the ceiling, coated in dust. She wouldn't have noticed it if it weren't for that sound, like something—or someone—had moved above it.
She stepped back, her heart pounding. The envelope burned in her fingers, but she didn't let go.
Then came a thud. Loud. As if something had landed directly on top of the hatch.
Valeria held her breath.
Silence returned—but it was thick with menace now.
She glanced around, searching for anything to defend herself with. She picked up an old flashlight from the floor, rusty but heavy.
—"I'm not afraid," she whispered. And it was a lie. One of those you say out loud just to keep from falling apart inside.
A sudden gust slammed the door shut behind her.
Valeria flinched. When she turned back to the center of the room… the chair was empty.
The envelope was gone.
"You shouldn't be here."
The voice didn't come from above. It came from the door.
Valeria turned sharply. Standing at the threshold, as if he'd been there all along, was a man. No older than thirty-five, tall, lean, with a calm expression that was somehow unsettling. He was dressed in black, as if mourning was his natural state.
"Who are you?" she asked, still gripping the flashlight like a weapon.
"Someone who arrived late," he replied. "But not as late as you."
Valeria narrowed her eyes.
"Were you following me?"
The man didn't answer. He simply walked into the room, examining each corner as if he recognized it. He stopped in front of the empty chair.
"The envelope wasn't meant for you," he said softly. "Not yet."
"What is going on? Who are you? What do you want from me?"
He finally looked at her, his gray eyes stormy and unreadable.
"My name is Ezra. And what I want… is for you not to open that box."
A chill ran down her spine. She hadn't mentioned the box. Not out loud.
Ezra smiled, as if he could hear her thoughts.
"Some doors open on their own, Valeria. But others… others choose you."
"And who gets to decide that? You?" Valeria stepped forward, her voice trembling — not with fear, but fury. "I'm done with riddles. If you know something, say it."
Ezra didn't move. He watched her with a mix of compassion and… something darker. A sorrow that felt ancient.
"You're not ready to understand."
"I don't care. I'll find out anyway. I opened the box. I saw the envelope. I followed the address. I'm here. What else do you need to stop treating me like a child?"
Her anger echoed through the room. Ezra lowered his gaze, as if her words wounded him.
"What you found… is just the beginning. That box didn't choose you by accident. What's inside… will change everything you think you know about yourself."
Valeria stepped closer, standing face to face with him. Her breath was fast, her body tense.
"Why are you warning me? What are you afraid I'll find?"
Ezra looked up slowly.
"I'm afraid… it's already too late."
And then, as if the room itself heard his words, a faint creaking came from the floor. Something shifted beneath them. Valeria stepped back instinctively.
"What's happening?" she whispered.
Ezra turned to the door, body tense.
"They found us."
"Who?"
"Run."
Ezra grabbed her hand without asking. His grip was firm, but not forceful. Valeria didn't resist. Something in her gut told her trusting him… was the only option.
"This way," he whispered, pulling her into a dark hallway that stretched into the back of the building.
The floor creaked under their feet, and every shadow seemed to shift. Valeria could barely see, but Ezra's warmth in front of her led the way. They descended a narrow, almost hidden staircase into a basement thick with dust and damp air.
"Where are we?" she asked, breathless.
"An old exit. No one's used it in years," he said, pushing open a hidden door behind rusted shelves.
The passage led them through stone tunnels. Silence hung heavy, broken only by the echo of their hurried steps and ragged breathing.
"Who are they? The ones who 'found us'?" Valeria asked.
Ezra hesitated.
"Those who want you to stay asleep. Who never want you to fully open the box."
"And you? Whose side are you on?"
Ezra stopped. He looked at her with burning intensity.
"Yours… even if it costs me everything."
Just then, a sharp noise cut through the air. Behind them, something —or someone— had entered the tunnel.
"Run!" Ezra shouted, and this time, Valeria didn't hesitate.
The hallway narrowed, the damp walls closing in as if they were breathing. Valeria felt her heart pounding in her chest like a war drum. Ezra was ahead, his silhouette outlined by the dim light of a rusted lamp hanging from the ceiling.
Then, without warning, the ground trembled. A muffled boom ran through the tunnel.
"Ezra!" Valeria screamed.
A section of the ceiling collapsed right between them, sending up a cloud of dust and debris. Valeria fell back, hitting her elbow against the stone.
"Valeria!" Ezra's voice came faintly from the other side of the rubble. "Are you okay?"
"Yes! But I can't get through!" she coughed, her eyes burning from the dust.
"I'll find another way around. Stay there!"
"Ezra, wait!"
But there was no reply.
Silence again. Only her breathing, her fear, her racing pulse.
Then, a whisper. A soft, feminine voice that wasn't Ezra's.
"Valeria…"
She turned. From a side tunnel, a slender figure emerged. Her hair was long and loose, her dress floating as if moved by an invisible breeze. Her eyes… were not from this world.
And in her hands, she held the very same box Valeria thought she had left in her room.
Valeria froze. The figure moved closer, slowly, her steps making no sound, as if she floated above the uneven floor. The box in her hands glowed softly, as if it were breathing with a life of its own.
"Who are you?" Valeria asked, her throat dry.
The woman smiled, but it wasn't comforting. It was melancholic. Ancient.
"I'm not what matters, Valeria. You are. You, and what you've forgotten."
Valeria took a step back. Her body screamed to run, but her soul leaned toward the voice.
"How do you have that box?"
"The box has always been with you. Since before you forgot. Since before it hurt."
"What does it mean? Why does everyone seem to know more about me than I do?"
The figure tilted her head, as if about to whisper a secret.
"Because you're not seeing with your real eyes. Not yet."
"And what do I have to do?"
"Awaken."
Then, the woman raised a hand and placed it gently over Valeria's chest. A strange, familiar warmth spread through her. Blurred images flooded her mind: a little girl running in the woods, a voice whispering in her ear, a name she couldn't quite recall.
When she came to, she was alone. The box lay on the floor, untouched. But something inside her had shifted. She could feel it. As if a lock had finally clicked open.