Chapter 4 Whispers in the Dark

The room was colder at night.

Aria sat curled up on the stone floor, hugging her knees to her chest. Her breath made small white clouds in the air. She had cried until her throat burned, but no one came. No one answered her.

The walls were made of dark stone that seemed to hum when she leaned against it, like it was alive and listening. A faint blue flame burned in a wall lantern, casting soft shadows that twisted across the floor. The silence was heavy. Too heavy.

Then she heard it.

A whisper.

It wasn’t Lucian’s voice this time. This one was softer, broken, almost like a woman crying far away.

“Little flame…”

Aria’s heart jumped. She turned her head quickly. No one was there. The room was empty.

She swallowed hard and stood, pressing her back against the cold wall. The whisper came again, drifting from somewhere behind the stone.

“Help… me.”

Her pulse raced. She pressed her ear to the wall. The stone vibrated lightly, as if someone on the other side was breathing.

“Who’s there?” she whispered back.

The whisper grew clearer, trembling like a ghost trapped between breaths. “You must run… before he binds your soul too.”

Aria’s stomach tightened. “Who are you?” she whispered again, her voice shaking.

But before the whisper could answer, the lock on the iron door groaned. Heavy boots echoed in the corridor outside. Shadows stretched across the floor.

Two guards entered first—tall, pale, their eyes glowing faint red like dying embers. Their movements were too smooth, too quiet. Then Lucian stepped in behind them, dressed in black as if the darkness belonged to him.

She froze, wiping quickly at her cheeks.

Lucian’s gaze moved to her wrist, where the mark still glowed faintly beneath her skin. “You’re awake,” he said softly, almost like it pleased him.

“Let me go,” she whispered, but her voice barely carried.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he walked around the room slowly, like a wolf circling prey. “I can hear your heartbeat from the other side of the castle,” he murmured. “Do you know why?”

She looked away. “Because you’re a monster.”

His steps stopped. She could feel his eyes on her.

“No,” he said quietly. “Because the bond between us grows stronger with every breath you take.”

Her breath caught in her throat.

Lucian stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You can fight me, Aria. You can hate me. But your blood already sings my name.”

She shook her head, backing away until her spine hit the wall again. “You can’t control me.”

A faint smile touched his lips. “We’ll see.”

He raised his hand and the shadows around the floor moved again, swirling like smoke. They climbed her ankles slowly, not hurting—just holding her in place like cold vines. She gasped, her hands shaking as the mark on her wrist burned hot.

“Run…”

The whisper came again, louder now, like it was inside her head. Her eyes widened. Lucian’s sharp gaze flicked toward the wall, as if he had heard it too. For a brief second, something dark flashed across his face. Not amusement. Not calm. Anger.

He turned to his guards. “No one enters this room without my command. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my king,” they answered, bowing their heads.

Then Lucian faced her again, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t listen to the whispers, little flame. They’ll only lead you to a grave.”

He disappeared into the shadows just as quietly as he came, the door slamming shut behind him.

The blue light flickered. The room grew colder.

Aria collapsed to the floor, breathing fast, her fingers clutching her burning wrist. The whispers were still there. Closer. Stronger.

“He’s not your fate… he’s your cage,” the voice trembled. “And cages can break.”

Aria pressed her forehead against her knees, shivering as the darkness wrapped around her like a second skin.

For the first time since that night, she wasn’t just afraid. She was angry. And deep inside that fear, a spark was beginning to wake.

Aria stayed on the cold floor long after Lucian’s footsteps faded into silence. Her chest rose and fell too fast, and every breath made the room feel smaller. The stone walls seemed to hum louder now, as if the whispers were coming from every corner.

“He thinks he owns the fire,” the soft, broken voice whispered again. “But fire was never meant to be caged.”

She lifted her head slowly, her hair sticking to her damp cheeks. “Who are you?” she whispered, almost too softly to hear herself.

The air in the room shifted. A faint light—barely a thread—slipped through a crack between the stones, pulsing softly like a heartbeat. Aria crawled toward it, pressing her ear against the cold wall. The whisper grew clearer. “You are not the first. And if you don’t fight, you won’t be the last.”

Her hand trembled as she touched the wall, feeling the cold stone against her skin. The mark on her wrist burned hotter, as if it didn’t like the voice. For a moment, the fire in her blood and the voice in the wall seemed to pull at her in opposite directions.

Her body shook, but this time it wasn’t only fear. Anger—small, shaky, but real—spread through her chest like a spark catching dry wood. She thought of her mother’s warm hands, of Mara’s laughter, of the stars over Ravenshade. She thought of the way Lucian had stripped it all away.

Her fingers curled into fists.

“He can’t keep me here,” she whispered, her voice rough but steady.

The whisper behind the wall trembled like a breath of wind. “Then don’t let him.”

The blue torch flickered. The shadows stretched longer, but Aria didn’t close her eyes this time. She stared into the darkness, and for the first time since she was brought to this castle, she didn’t just feel trapped—she felt the beginning of a fight stirring inside her.