Chương 9: The Whisper pt.1
As the three knights approached the ancient, crumbling stairs, a strange sensation flickered through the air, sharp and cold like a winter's gust. Without warning, a whisper—faint, almost indiscernible—slipped into Edric's mind, carried on the chill of the temple's darkened halls. It wasn't a murmur of the living, not the echo of his companions behind him. This was different—softer, more insidious, like the whisper of a shadow.
Edric stiffened, his hand instinctively reaching to rub his temples. His face contorted, a subtle mix of confusion and unease etched across his features. The voice was distant, as though it were calling from the depths of a dream. It made no sense—just broken syllables scattered in the breeze—but it gnawed at him, refusing to disappear.
As they neared the base of the stairs, Edric's footsteps faltered. His brow furrowed deeply as the spectral chant grew more persistent, pressing against the edges of his mind, seeping into his thoughts like an unwelcome intruder. He blinked rapidly, shaking his head as if trying to clear water from his ears, but the call remained—a steady, nagging presence.
The confusion morphed into something sharper, tinged with shock, as he realized the hum wasn't fading. It was growing louder. "What...?" he muttered under his breath, unsure if the words were meant for himself or his companions.
"Edric?" Kyrntar's voice cut through the thickening air, his gaze snapping to the younger knight. "You alright?"
Edric hesitated, his heart thudding in his chest. "Yeah, just..." His words were rushed, almost too quick. "Just tired."
But in truth, his mind churned with disbelief, with the growing sense that something—someone—was trying to reach him from the depths of the temple's forgotten darkness. And the voice, though faint, refused to be ignored.
Marra, her intuition sharper than most, immediately noticed the way Edric's shoulders had stiffened, his usual confident stride faltering ever so slightly. She stepped closer, her fingers brushing his arm, grounding him with a touch that had always calmed his restless energy. Her tone was soft, but laced with concern. "Something's wrong, isn't it?"
Edric's heart pounded at her question, the muttering in his mind growing louder, like wind sweeping through the dark corridors of the temple. His eyes flicked to hers, then darted to Kyrntar, who remained unaware of the struggle within him. He swallowed hard, fighting the instinct to pull away, to bury this strange affliction. "I… I don't know," he muttered, his throat strained. "It's like… there's something in my head, but it's faint. I can barely make it out."
Marra's hand tightened on his arm, her concern deepening. She could always see through him, straight to the heart of what he tried to hide. There was no lying to her—not in the years they'd fought side by side, not now when the walls seemed to close in around them. Her eyes searched his face, silently urging him to tell the truth.
A pang of guilt twisted inside Edric as he looked at her, and for a brief moment, the dread surged, tearing at his chest. The chanting—it wasn't going away. If anything, it was becoming clearer. *Return... the power... it is yours…* The words slipped through his thoughts like a snake, coiling tighter with every step they took deeper into the temple.
He tried to focus, tried to shake it off, but the pull was getting stronger. He could feel it. Yet, he couldn't tell her. Not fully. Not here, in the middle of their first mission. They had trained too hard, sacrificed too much. He couldn't falter now.
Drawing in a shaky breath, Edric forced a smile—one that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm fine, Marra," he said, his tone lighter than it had any right to be. "Just tired, you know? We've been at this for hours. It's probably just the temple messing with me."
But even as the words left his mouth, they felt hollow, and he knew Marra could sense it too. Her brow furrowed, her worry deepening, but she nodded, trusting him, even though her instincts screamed otherwise.
The rumbling, however, wasn't so easily pushed aside. *Return... embrace the power...* It grew louder, more insistent, gnawing at his thoughts, making it harder to think clearly. Edric clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he tried to steady his breathing, to ground himself in the moment. But it was becoming unbearable—like a storm building inside his head.
Each step felt heavier, each breath a little sharper. The temple's cold air seemed to thicken, wrapping around him, pulling him in. And through it all, Marra stayed close, her presence both a comfort and a reminder that he couldn't show weakness. Not to her. Not when she was looking at him with those eyes—eyes that saw too much, that knew too much.
He forced another grin, more forced than before, the bravado slipping. "Come on, Marra. I'm fine. Let's keep moving before Kyrntar thinks we're getting soft." The words were a mask, a way to keep the fear at bay, but the more he tried to hide it, the more it clawed at him.
Marra hesitated, her gaze lingering on him for a moment longer before she finally relented, though the worry never left her eyes. She gave him a small nod, and they pressed forward into the temple's depths.
But inside, Edric felt the fear rising, inch by inch, with every whispered word: *Take the power… it is yours…* The whisper was no longer faint. It was a promise, a demand, and it was getting harder to resist.
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