The clock struck 2:47 a.m. Pisces jolted upright in bed, heart pounding in her chest. Beside her, Taurus stirred, his brows furrowed in a mixture of fear and confusion. The room was thick with an eerie silence, the kind that presses against your ears and makes you hyper-aware of every creak and rustle. Pisces glanced at her husband, noting the beads of sweat glistening on his forehead.
“Did you…?” Pisces began, her voice a hushed whisper.
Taurus nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah. I did. It was… It was horrible.”
They stared at each other, the weight of their shared nightmare settling over them like a suffocating blanket. In the dream, they were both in a dark, decaying room, bound to old, splintering chairs. A figure, cloaked in shadows, moved around them, its presence as palpable as the stench of decay in the air. The figure had a brand, glowing with an unnatural heat, and it pressed the searing metal against their flesh. The pain was excruciating, tearing through them as they screamed.
Pisces’ hand instinctively reached to her shoulder blade, her fingers tracing the area where the brand had burned her in the dream. To her shock, she felt a raised, painful mark.
“Honey,” she gasped, “check your back.”
With a mixture of dread and curiosity, Taurus pulled up his shirt, his hand moving to the same spot. His eyes widened as he felt the fresh, painful brand.
“This… this can’t be real, sweetheart” he muttered. “It was just a dream, right? It had to be just a dream.”
“Darling, we have the same mark,” Pisces said, her voice trembling. “This is not normal. We need to figure out what’s going on.”
They turned on the lights, the harsh brightness casting stark shadows around the room. Pisces went to the bathroom to look in the mirror, pulling her shirt aside to reveal the brand. It was an intricate symbol, one she didn’t recognize. Taurus did the same, confirming that his mark was identical.
“This is insane,” Taurus said, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe we should go to the hospital.”
“And tell them what?” Pisces countered. “That we had the same dream and now we have these marks? They’ll think we’re crazy.”
Taurus sighed, rubbing his temples. “Okay, so what do we do?”
“First, we need to calm down and think rationally,” Pisces said, her voice steadying. “Let’s sit down and try to remember everything from the dream. Maybe there’s a clue or something we missed.”
They sat at the kitchen table, the only sound the faint hum of the refrigerator. Pisces closed her eyes, focusing on the details of the dream. The dark room, the decaying smell, the figure…
“There was something on the wall,” she said suddenly. “A painting or a symbol, something like that.”
Taurus nodded. “Yeah, I remember that too. It was old, looked like it had been there forever.”
“Do you think it’s a symbol of some kind?” Pisces asked. “Maybe something to do with the brand?”
“Possibly,” Taurus said. “But where do we even start looking for something like that?”
“We could search online,” Pisces suggested. “There’s got to be something about it on the internet.”
They spent the next few hours scouring the web, their search becoming more frantic as the minutes ticked by. Every image, every symbol they found seemed to lead to a dead end. Finally, Pisces stumbled upon a forum dedicated to the paranormal. One thread caught her eye: “Mysterious Branding in Dreams – Anyone Experienced This?”
“Taurus, look at this,” she said, pointing to the screen. “There are other people who’ve had the same experience.”
Taurus leaned in, reading the posts. The stories were eerily similar: people dreaming of a dark room, a cloaked figure, and waking up with a fresh brand.
“We need to contact these people,” Pisces said. “Maybe they know something we don’t.”
They sent messages to several users, hoping for a quick response. As they waited, the reality of their situation settled over them. They were connected to something far beyond their understanding, and the marks on their bodies were proof of that.
A notification pinged on Pisces’ phone. One of the users had replied, offering to video chat immediately. Pisces accepted the call, and a middle-aged man with tired eyes appeared on the screen.
“Hello,” he said, his voice heavy with fatigue. “I’m Scorpio. You’ve been branded too, haven’t you?”
Pisces and Taurus nodded, showing him their marks.
“I’ve been researching this for years,” Scorpio said. “You’re not alone. There are dozens of us, all over the world. We call ourselves the Marked.”
“What does it mean?” Taurus asked. “Why is this happening to us?”
Scorpio sighed. “We don’t know for sure. But we believe it’s connected to an ancient cult. They performed rituals that involved branding their members. The symbols are said to bind us to their cause, even across time.”
“But why us?” Pisces asked, her voice trembling.
“We think it’s random,” Scorpio said. “Or maybe there’s something about us that makes us susceptible. All we know is that once you’re marked, there’s no way to remove it.”
Pisces felt a wave of despair wash over her. “So, we’re just stuck with this?”
“There’s more,” Scorpio said grimly. “The brand… it’s a connection. The cult, or whatever’s left of it, can use it to control us, to make us do things against our will.”
Taurus’ face paled. “Are you saying we’re in danger?”
“Yes,” Scorpio replied. “We all are. The nightmares will continue, and they’ll get worse. They’ll try to break you, to make you give in.”
Pisces and Taurus exchanged a glance, fear evident in their eyes.
“Is there anything we can do to stop it?” Pisces asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Stay strong,” Scorpio said. “Don’t let them break you. We’re trying to find a way to fight back, but it’s slow going. Just know you’re not alone in this.”
They ended the call, the weight of Scorpio’s words hanging heavily in the air.
“This is a nightmare,” Taurus said, his voice cracking. “What are we supposed to do?”
“We fight,” Pisces said, determination hardening her voice. “We stay strong, like Scorpio said. We’ll find a way to beat this.”
The next few days were a blur of restless sleep and constant fear. Each night, the dreams grew more intense, the figure’s presence more menacing. They woke up screaming, drenched in sweat, their brands burning with a searing pain.
One evening, as they sat in the living room, Pisces tried to lighten the mood with a joke. “Well, at least we don’t have to worry about getting matching tattoos now. We’ve already got them.”
Taurus managed a weak smile. “Yeah, I suppose that’s one way to look at it.”
Their laughter was hollow, but it was a brief respite from the horror they were living through.
One night, Pisces had a breakthrough. She remembered something from the dream, a phrase the figure had whispered before branding them. It was in a language she didn’t understand, but she had a photographic memory and could recall it perfectly.
“Taurus, I need you to write this down,” she said, reciting the phrase.
They spent hours trying to translate it, and finally, they found a match. It was an ancient language, long forgotten, but the phrase roughly translated to “Bound by blood, marked by night.”
“It’s a clue,” Taurus said. “It has to be.”
The phrase led them to more information about the cult, their rituals, and the symbols they used. They discovered that the brands were meant to bind their souls to the cult, but there was a way to break the connection.
“We need to perform a counter-ritual,” Pisces said, reading from an old manuscript they had found online. “It’s risky, but it’s our best shot.”
They gathered the necessary items and waited until midnight, the witching hour. The air was thick with tension as they prepared for the ritual. They drew a circle on the floor, lighting candles at each point, and placed a bowl of salt in the center.
“Are you ready?” Pisces asked, her voice steady despite the fear in her eyes.
Taurus nodded. “Let’s do this.”
They recited the incantation, their voices blending together in the quiet room. As they spoke the final words, the air around them seemed to pulse, a tangible force pressing against them. The brands on their backs burned with an intense heat, but they kept going, determined to break the curse.
Suddenly, there was a blinding flash of light, and the room went still. The brands on their backs faded, the pain subsiding.
“Did it work?” Taurus asked, his voice shaky.
Pisces touched her shoulder blade, feeling only smooth skin. “I think it did.”
They collapsed onto the floor, exhausted but relieved. The nightmare was over, the connection broken.
In the days that followed, they reached out to Scorpio and the others, sharing the details of the counter-ritual. It was a small victory, but it gave them hope.
As they lay in bed one night, Pisces snuggled close to Taurus, feeling safe for the first time in weeks.
“You know,” she said with a smile, “we make a pretty good team.”
Taurus chuckled, kissing her forehead. “Yeah, we do. And hey, no more matching brands. We’ll just have to get those tattoos after all.”
Pisces laughed, the sound a balm to their frayed nerves. “I’m thinking something less permanent. Maybe matching bracelets?”
“Deal,” Taurus said, pulling her close. “Deal.”
And for the first time in a long while, they slept soundly, free from the horrors of the night.