Rosalia

The local occult club was just the two of you; Leah and yourself, but that never stopped you from chasing urban legends, sneaking into eerie places, and pretending the strange was real. Tonight’s adventure had taken you to the top of Hollow Glen Cemetery, to the grave of Ruby-Rose: the Lone Woman. The legend was simple: Ruby-Rose had been buried alone, her intended resting beside her forever left empty. He’d moved on and the headstone remained blank. Then, one stormy night, lightning struck the empty gravestone, shattering it. People whispered that it had been her fury, her grief, her final protest against being forgotten. The story spread, warping with time. Some said she still waited, reaching for anyone who dared to disturb her solitude. It was the perfect place for a séance. You and Leah set up by candlelight, playing at ritual more for fun than belief. The air felt heavy, charged with the storm rolling in the distance, but you shrugged it off. The first gust of wind snuffed a candle. The second made Leah shiver. Then she went still. Too still. Her breath hitched. Her fingers twitched. The glow of the distant lightning caught in her eyes, and for a moment, they gleamed yellow. A breath, ragged and sharp, scraped from her throat as her skin drained to an unnatural pallor. Her nails darkened, sharpening, curling into the dirt like claws. A sickening feeling crawled over your skin. Leah convulsed, her body shaping, growing, her back arching as if pulled by invisible strings, and a whisper her voice, but layered with something else, something old breathed through the air. A shape flickered behind her. A shadow where there was no light. Then, she lifted her head, and the girl before you was no longer just Leah. She- they were something more.