Claimed by the Dark

Chapter 1

I waited for midnight, exactly as the ritual demanded.

My name is Kira, I’m twenty-two, and apparently, I’m the kind of person who sits naked in a dark apartment with two borrowed wedding rings and a candle between two mirrors. Brilliant life choices, I know.

The house was still. Not even the fridge dared to hum.

I placed one mirror in front of me and held the other behind my shoulder, the flame trembling in the narrow space between us. My pulse was louder than the quiet.

This is stupid, I told myself. Just a superstition.

But the moment the clock hit midnight, the candle flickered sharply—like something had blown over it.

I froze.

“Calm down, Kira. Focus. Count the reflections. Nine… they said nine.”

I narrowed my eyes into the mirror behind me, trying to align them correctly. The shadows were slippery, the reflections multiplied. I wasn’t even sure I was doing it right.

Then the image shifted.

Something—someone—appeared behind me in the mirror. Too tall. Too close. Its hands hovered at my waist. But its face… I couldn’t see a face at all. Only the shape of someone holding me. Claiming me.

My breath caught so hard it hurt.

I gasped, blew the candle out, and stumbled towards the light switch.

White light spilled over the room. Empty. Just me.

Me and the two wedding rings sweating in my palm.

My friends were waiting for updates. We had all agreed to perform the ritual on the Night of John the Baptist—my best friend’s grandmother swore it revealed the man destined to love you. Something about wedding rings blessed by a priest and the veil between worlds thinning.

I didn’t want to text them.

What would I even say? “Hey girls, you all saw your future husbands and I saw a faceless shadow squeezing me from behind?”

Before I could type anything, the group chat exploded.

“GUYS, IT WORKED!!!”

“Same here OMG!”

“I SAW HIM SO CLEARLY!”

My stomach tightened.

I lied.

“Yeah… I think I saw something too. Not sure what.”

They dragged me into a video call within seconds. Three glowing faces, thrilled, describing the boys they had seen, the eyes, the smiles, the vibes.

I swallowed jealousy as if it were acid.

Why them? Why did it work so cleanly for them and not for me?

“Maybe you did something wrong,” Elena said gently. “My sister had to try for two years before she saw anything.”

But I had seen something.

And it wasn’t human.

I made an excuse, ended the call, and stared at my bedroom door for a long time, convinced I wasn’t alone.

When sleep finally crept over me, it came violently.

Shadows crawled across my ceiling.

I slipped out of my body—at least, it felt like that—and suddenly I was standing next to my own bed, watching myself sleep. A shape emerged from the corner of the room.

Tall. Dark. Deliberate.

It approached my sleeping body and traced a hand over the sheet, over my skin beneath it. My body moaned—my moan, but not under my control. The sound deepened, growing heavier, needier, as if someone else was using my voice to beg.

I tried to scream, to move, but the invisible glue of sleep paralysis held me captive.

Just as my body arched under the invisible touch—

I snapped awake.

Or… I thought I did.

The shadow was still there. Bent over me. Pressing me into the mattress as pleasure tore through me without permission, without thought, without anything but pure instinct. My climax hit hard enough to shake me out of myself.

And then—

Daylight.

The room was quiet again.

I was alone. Soaked in sweat, trembling, clutching the sheets like a lifeline.

It took me minutes to stand. My legs didn’t feel like mine. My energy felt… drained. Used.

Work forced me back into sanity. Coffee. Shower. Busy office. I hid behind tasks and noise, far from rituals and dreams and shadows that touched too intimately.

All day, my friends texted.

“How are you feeling???”

“Did you dream anything???”

“Tell us!!!”

I typed: I’m fine, super busy, talk later.

Translation: I saw something I shouldn’t have seen. And I don’t know why it chose me.

After six, exhausted and starving, I grabbed a shawarma and a Coke and hurried back to my building. As I reached the entrance, someone stepped out and held the door for me.

I looked up.

Green eyes. Dark hair. Lazy, lopsided smile.

My heart flipped like it tripped over its own feet.

I muttered “thanks”, cheeks on fire, then all but ran to the elevator.

Great, Kira. Excellent composure.

Back in my apartment, food inhaled, shows playing in the background, I finally crashed into bed. No lights on this time. No protections. I was too tired to care.

Sleep swallowed me instantly.

“Kira…”

My name echoed through the darkness, warm and sinful.

“Kira…”

My body froze—paralyzed again. The familiar helplessness wrapped around me.

“You invited me,” the voice breathed. “You knew I would come.”

Fingers brushed my hair, my neck, slow and deliberate. Pleasure curled low in my belly, traitorous and hot.

“This is just a dream,” I told myself.

“Yes… a dream,” they whispered. “So why fight it? Let yourself feel.”

A shiver ran down my spine.

I gasped when its hand grazed the edge of my breast, circling, patient.

“What do you want from me?” I managed, breathless.