Under the Shadows

hello everyone!! back with the so awaited chapter, I feel so much pressure omggg I hope you guys will like it hahaha

also made a tiktok account to help promote this story, Nyra Ashvale if you wanna show some love 🥺 I've been writing for yeaaars but never dared to put it all out there, until I said fuck it let's do it!

now I intend on taking this thing seriously, so prepare to see a lottt of things coming!

so, on that matter, anyone here would be interested by sci fi short stories? no smut of fluff whatsoever, only gruesome, dark, twisted short stories hahaha—I've got a full collection that waits to be released (buttt dw, this story remains my main focus 😇 )

anyway time to stop yapping, enjoyyy

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Soundtrack:

- Forwards beckon rebound – Adrienne Lenker

**

Elyne sat at the small kitchen table, her fingers curling tightly around the warm ceramic mug. The rich scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the faint antiseptic tang that clung to the air after the doctor's work. She hadn't realized how much she needed the drink until now, its warmth grounding her, momentarily dulling the relentless ache in her chest.

The man—Dr. Alan Greaves, he had introduced himself—sat across from her, his demeanor calm and measured. His thin-rimmed glasses caught the soft glow of the overhead light, and his hands rested lightly around his own mug, as though he had all the time in the world. The contrast between his serene presence and the storm raging inside Elyne was almost maddening.

The television had been turned off moments earlier, the images still burned into her memory. The Reclaimer's face dominated every broadcast, his life laid bare for all to see. The news disassembled his existence with a fervor that bordered on obsession, unearthing photos that offered glimpses into a life she could hardly reconcile with the man she'd come to know. It was invasive, relentless, stripping away the layers of his carefully maintained mystique and exposing the humanity beneath.

There was one of him standing tall and poised at the podium during his valedictorian speech, his black gown sleek against the stage lights, a confident smile tugging at his lips. The brilliance in his green eyes spoke of ambition, of a future bursting with promise.

Then, a grainy photograph of him with his family: his father, stern but proud; his mother, her soft features framed by dark, wavy hair, her arm draped lovingly over his shoulder. He stood between them, younger, unguarded, his smile wide and boyish.

Another shot captured a quiet, tender moment. He was sitting on a worn couch, a small, brightly wrapped gift in his hands, which he extended toward someone off-camera. The caption revealed it was his college roommate's birthday. His grin was easy, relaxed, as if this moment, this simple act of kindness, was as natural to him as breathing. The background was cluttered with books and mismatched furniture, a snapshot of ordinary student life. Another one showed him at a bar, surrounded by a circle of friends, clinking glasses beneath dim, flickering lights. His head was tilted back mid-laugh, the kind of uninhibited joy that felt miles away from the guarded man she knew.

Then came the vacation photos. In one, he stood barefoot on a rocky beach, the waves crashing dramatically behind him. His shirt was half-open, and he was holding up a freshly caught fish, grinning triumphantly at the camera like he'd just conquered the sea. In another, he was perched on a rickety motorbike, a scenic mountain range stretching out behind him. His hair was windswept, his skin kissed by the sun, and the carefree expression on his face seemed almost alien compared to the intensity she'd come to associate with him.