Something...somewhere...somehow...
Ian didn't know how he got there. One moment, he was in the quiet darkness of sleep, and the next, he found himself standing, immobilized, in the middle of a grand, gothic chapel.
It stretched impossibly tall, shadows looming in every corner, the architecture eerily medieval. The only source of light came from hundreds of candles suspended in iron chandeliers and sconces along the ancient stone walls. Their flames flickered with unsettling consistency, casting dancing shadows that seemed too alive.
He tried to move, to speak, but nothing. His legs wouldn't respond, his arms remained pinned at his side. The air was heavy, so thick it clung to his skin, tasting like ash and incense. Panic set in fast.
Then, from the far end of the chapel, came a sound.
Voices.
Whispers. Muted laughter. Hushed conversations. A sea of people emerged, seating themselves before him in long, elaborately carved pews.
Their faces were distorted - blurry, featureless. Like smeared ink on wet paper. Yet he could hear them, the rise and fall of voices, a cacophony of incoherent chatter. He squinted, desperate to see clearly, to understand who they were.
Suddenly, light pierced through stained glass. The candles didn't dim - they flared. The chapel was illuminated in a kaleidoscope of vibrant reds, greens, and blues as the morning sun - or was it moonlight? - shone through. The whispers stopped. An overwhelming silence took over.
Then came the bells.
Clear and sharp, they rang from above. Wedding bells. A celebration.
The faceless crowd began to clap.
Ian's heartbeat quickened, thudding against his chest like a drumbeat of dread. He spun around, only to remain rooted to the spot. Then, he saw them.
At the grand entrance, arm in arm, walked two women dressed in pristine wedding gowns. Isabelle Ravenglass and Ruth Tachibana. Radiant. Glowing. Smiling with ethereal joy, they made their way slowly down the aisle toward him, their white dresses trailing behind them like clouds.
They looked... divine. Beautiful beyond comprehension.
But Ian's chest tightened. The air grew colder. The bells became louder.
Another figure stepped in behind them. A woman, draped entirely in white, her face concealed by an opaque veil. She held her bouquet low, moving with a haunting grace. Then three more followed. One of them towered above the others, nearly 6 feet. One was small and delicate. All were veiled, faceless.
Six women. All in white. All walking toward him.
The crowd erupted in cheer. The bell blared. Clapping turned to thunderous applause.
His breath came faster now. His vision blurred. He wanted to run, scream, anything. But he remained frozen in place.
He closed his eyes.
When he opened them, they were all in front of him. Ruth. Isabelle. The four unknown brides.
Their faces now clear. Their smiles - wide, unblinking, and too perfect. The kind of smiles carved onto dolls.
A man appeared beside them, robed in dark ceremonial garb, holding an ancient, leather-bound book. A priest? No. Ian knew that face.
"Dai.....go?" Ian whispered, though he had no voice.
Daigo smiled. Not his usual smirk or snide grin. No. This was... genuine. Proud. The way a best friend would smile at a groom on his wedding day.
The world was spinning now. Ian's mind screamed. His pulse pounded. The women reached toward him.
Then... something broke.
The light faded. The sun - or moonlight - disappeared. The stained-glass windows shattered without sound. The candles still burned, but their flames turned black. Thick smoke curled like snakes.
Ruth's face distorted first. Her glowing smile widened unnaturally, teeth elongating into jagged shards. Isabelle's eyes turned pitch-black, her skin growing pale and cracked like porcelain. The veiled brides lifted their covers, revealing monstrous faces - deformed, hollow, blood-slick.
And they were still smiling.
Hands. Dozens of hands, pale and cold, erupted from the ground, gripping Ian's arms, his legs, his torso. They held him tight, pulling him down. The demonic brides lunged.
Blood.
Their mouths were red.
They descended on him with screeches like violin strings being torn apart. He couldn't scream. He couldn't move. Their teeth sank into him, gnawed at his soul, tore his thoughts apart.
He gasped.
Air. Real air. Oxygen.
Ian jolted awake, drenched in sweat. His chest heaved with desperate, frantic breaths. He clutched his shirt, staring wildly around. Seats. Windows. Soft engine hum. A road lit by streetlights moving past slowly.
A bus.
He was on a goddamn bus.
Ian turned his head sharply. Ellie was beside him, sleeping peacefully, her head leaning slightly on the window. Her hand rested on the bag in her lap.
Reality. Safety.
Ian pressed his palm against his face, wiping the sweat off his forehead. He looked around, trying to ground himself in the now.
He was safe. It was just a dream.
No.
A nightmare.
A fucking nightmare.
He took a deep breath and exhaled, shakily. He peeked out the window. Trees, buildings, a gas station in the distance.
South Carolina.
They were here.
The dream still lingered in his bones. In his mind. It left a bitter, burning trail through his chest. The faces of the six brides, Daigo's proud smile, the clapping of the faceless crowd, the bells.
His mind couldn't shake the image of their monstrous faces.
Ruth.
Isabelle.
And those other four unknown women...
Were they real? Or just shadows of his paranoia?
He glanced at Ellie again.
He thought of Ruth. Of Isabelle. Of the past. Of the twisted paths fate kept weaving around him.
Whatever was waiting in South Carolina, Ian had the gnawing feeling that his dream was more than just a nightmare.
It was a warning.
A prelude.
And somewhere, deep in the folds of his mind, the bells rang again.
Faintly.
Mockingly.
Like ghosts of the vows he never made... but could never escape.
August 6th, 2025
South Carolina, USA - 6:32 PM