The Visitor in the Dark

“There’s a very specific kind of horror in realising the intruder in your bedroom is someone you know.”

The sky was a void—vast, silent, endless. Nothing but blackness stretched in every direction. And yet, somehow, Cody was there.

His face hovered in the dark like a beacon, impossibly bright and clear. He smiled at me—his familiar, lopsided grin that always struck the delicate balance between cockiness and warmth. It brought me comfort, even here, in this strange nowhere-place.

I smiled back, a warmth blooming in my chest. I raised a hand and gave a small wave, waiting for the connection to spark between us.

But Cody didn’t move.

His expression didn’t change. He just stared, that same unwavering smile fixed to his face like it had been painted on. Unease crept in, worming its way beneath my ribs. Could he not see me?

I’m right here, I wanted to say. Look at me.

But he remained still, and I began to feel the distance between us widening. His image started to drift backwards, slowly at first, then with an unnatural slide, like he was being pulled away by something invisible. I reached out instinctively, panic surging up as I tried to catch him.

He slipped away like smoke through fingers.

Suddenly, lightning split the sky, illuminating the dark like a flashbulb—just long enough for other faces to flicker into existence. Some were familiar, distorted by time or memory. Others were strange. Wrong. Watching.

A scream clawed its way up my throat, but when I opened my mouth, it came out thin and cracked.

“Cody!” I rasped, my voice fragile, failing me.

Another flash. More faces.

“Cody!” I screamed again, forcing the word with every ounce of strength I had. “They’re coming!”

A violent jolt shot through me.

The dream shattered.

I bolted upright in bed, lungs heaving, heart hammering in my chest. My skin was slick with sweat, my pyjama top clinging to my back. Thunder cracked outside—deep, rolling, too close. The flash of lightning that followed lit the room in a brief, ghostly strobe.

And then I saw it.

A face.

At the doorway.

My breath caught mid-gasp.

The face moved—approaching, urgent. A man. I barely had time to react before he was on me.

A hand clamped over my mouth. The scream I tried to release died instantly, muffled against his palm. I thrashed in the blankets, tangled and weak, my limbs like soaked rope beneath me. My brain screamed fight, even as my body struggled to respond.

He pushed me back, pinning me to the bed with his weight. Fear poured through me, sharp and electrifying. My teeth found the flesh of his hand and I bit down hard, tasting salt and sweat.

“Agh—” he yelped, jerking, just enough for me to suck in a breath.

I opened my mouth to scream, but another hand came up fast, silencing me again.

“Gladys!” the man hissed.

Something about the voice… The sound of it broke through the terror like a signal through static.

“Stop!”

I froze, eyes locking on his.

Cody.

Recognition punched the air from my lungs.

He eased his grip, reading my face.

“Don’t scream,” he said, lower now. “You were having a nightmare… thrashing about in your bed. I was worried you’d hurt yourself.”

He withdrew his hand slowly.

I could still feel the pressure where it had been, the faint tremble in his fingertips.

“What the fuck are you doing here? How did you get in my house?” I demanded, shoving at his chest. My voice was hoarse, but steady—driven by fear, adrenaline, and indignation.

I needed to regain control. I needed something to make sense.

“I can’t stay long,” he said, urgency tightening his voice. “You have to trust Luke. Clivilius is real. Do whatever he asks you to do.”

I blinked.

“Trust Luke?” I repeated, incredulous.

Cody leaned in, eyes fierce and pleading.

“Trust me, Gladys. The lives of a thousand people are at stake. We need Luke.”

The words hit hard—too big, too fast. My mind scrambled to catch up.

“We?” I asked, frowning. “How do you know about Clivilius?”

Cody looked towards the door.

“I have to go,” he said.

And just like that, he bolted from the room.

I flung off the blankets and stumbled out of bed, my head swimming from the wine and the whirlwind I’d just been thrown into. My feet found the floor with a slap, and I ran for the hallway.

“Cody,” I whispered, the name barely escaping my throat.

The hallway was silent.

I reached the lounge, my heart battering my ribcage—but the room was empty. No door open. No sign of anyone. No Cody.

Just as I turned in slow, confused circles, the silence broke.

“What the hell are you doing, Gladys?” a voice snapped behind me.

I spun, startled.

Beatrix stood there in the doorway, hair wild, eyes half-lidded with sleep and irritation.

“Who’s Cody?” she asked, blinking.

My mouth worked before my mind caught up.

“Umm… nobody… I just had a nightmare. Must have had too much wine,” I lied, the words falling out smooth as silk.

She didn’t question it.

It was the perfect excuse.

And it was true, wasn’t it?

At least partly.

The only trouble was… I no longer knew which part.