Chapter 4
Elara barely remembered running back to her dorm room. Her legs shook the entire way, and Mira didn't stop throwing panicked glances over her shoulder. When they finally reached their room, Mira slammed the door and locked it twice.
"Elara—what did we just see?" Mira whispered, pacing. "Blood. A body. And Lucien just—stood there like it was normal!"
Elara sat on her bed, her heartbeat refusing to slow.
"It wasn't normal," she said quietly. "Nothing about him is."
She expected the whispers to calm now that she was away from the north corridor. But as soon as she placed her hands on the cool wall beside her bed…
They rushed out at her.
"He knows you hear us…"
"The cursed one watches…"
"He walks with the night…"
Elara swallowed, pressing her back against the headboard. "Why me? Why always me?"
Mira stopped pacing and sat beside her. "Elara… what exactly do you hear? You've never really told me."
Elara hesitated. She had always kept her ability secret—not because she wanted to, but because no one would believe her. No one except Mira.
"They're not voices in my head," Elara whispered. "They're echoes. From the walls. Like memories trapped in them. Warnings. Fears. Secrets."
Mira's eyes widened. "And the whispers said something about Lucien?"
Elara nodded. "They're afraid of him."
Before Mira could respond, the air suddenly chilled. The lights flickered once, then steadied.
Elara's stomach twisted.
Another whisper—different from the others—slithered across the wall.
Soft. Slow. Close.
"…Elara…"
Her blood ran cold.
The whisper had used her name again.
"Did you hear that!?" Mira gasped.
Elara stiffened. "Wait—you heard it?"
Mira shook her head quickly. "No—but I saw your expression. What did it say?"
Elara swallowed the rising fear. "It said my name."
The room fell silent except for the faint wind outside. For the first time since her ability awakened years ago, she wasn't sure the whisper came from the walls.
It felt closer. As if something—or someone—had spoken right behind her ear.
That night, Elara couldn't sleep.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Lucien standing in that doorway, blood trailing at his feet. She saw the faint red glow in his eyes. She heard the whispers begging her to run.
At 2 a.m., unable to take it anymore, she grabbed her jacket and stepped outside her dorm. The campus was cold, quiet, and too still.
But she didn't get far.
Near the courtyard, she froze.
Lucien Vale stood alone under a broken lamp post, looking up at the night sky. His coat billowed in the wind, his eyes reflecting a silver glow that wasn't human.
Before she could turn back, his voice cut through the silence.
"Elara."
Her breath stopped.
He wasn't supposed to know she was here. He wasn't even facing her.
"Why are you out at this hour?" he asked, turning his head slightly. His expression was unreadable, but there was something tired behind his eyes.
Elara forced herself to speak. "You said someone was hurting. Who was it?"
Lucien's jaw tightened.
"It's better if you don't know."
"Too late," she whispered.
Lucien stepped toward her—slow, graceful, dangerous.
Then the whisper returned, freezing her in place.
"He will tell you a truth that ends everything."
Lucien stopped inches in front of her, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Elara… stay away from the shadows. They're hungry tonight."
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