Page 14

Whispers in the Dark

RONAN

A ngelic disappears, leaving me alone with too many dangerous truths. The castle groans around me, ancient stones shifting in the cold. Each creak and crack feels like a reminder of the weight pressing down on my shoulders, a chorus of echoes reflecting my inner turmoil. But now I hear something else in the sound—not decay, but awakening.

It's as if the very walls of Frostspire Keep resonate with a newfound energy, responding to the chaos that looms just out of reach. A shift in the air stirs hope within me, fleeting and fragile, yet insistent. As I take a deep breath, the chill lingers, but there is warmth beneath it, a flicker of magic beckoning to be harnessed.

Suddenly, that flicker intensifies as I sense Briar before I see her, her scent mingling with the lingering frost left by Angelic's presence. She rounds the corner, concern etched on her face, eyes searching for any sign of distress. The castle's magic surges in response, stones warming beneath my palm where moments ago they crumbled, as if recognizing her presence and welcoming her home.

"I heard voices." Her green eyes scan the damaged hallway, taking in the fresh cracks spider-webbing across the walls. "Is everything alright?"

The curse pulses through my blood, demanding I either claim her or push her away. No safe middle ground exists anymore. Not with the Council watching. Not with Rurik's experiments threatening everything.

"You shouldn't be here." The words come out harsher than intended, but I can't soften them. Not with Angelic's warning still ringing in my ears.

Briar steps closer, and the magic responds instantly. The dying enchantments in the wall flare to life, stones knitting themselves together where moments ago they were failing. Even the air changes—warmer, more alive.

"The castle's getting worse, isn't it?" She reaches toward the wall, but I catch her wrist before she can touch it. Her pulse jumps under my fingers.

"Don't." I release her quickly, though everything in me screams to pull her closer. "The magic is unstable."

Movement catches my eye as Fiona ducks into an alcove, her phone pressed to her ear. The sight sends warning signals through my enhanced senses. Cell phones barely function in this place due to the curse, and Fiona knows better than to take private calls within these walls.

"...understand, but it's not that simple," Fiona's whispered words reach my ears, distinctly clear despite the distance. "The magic shifts when she's around. Yes, I'll keep watching, but?—"

As she spots me, she abruptly ends the call and hurries away before I can question her. The curse writhes under my skin, recognizing something in her retreat that sets my wolf on edge, a raw urge demanding my attention.

"Ronan?" Briar's voice pulls me back to the moment. She stands closer now, warmth radiating from her, cutting through the perpetual chill of the curse. "What's wrong?"

Everything . Nothing.

The castle dies around us while my brother's corruption spreads. The Council is watching, waiting for an excuse to intervene. And here Briar stands, somehow making the magic stronger while putting herself in more danger with every passing moment.

“Go back to your room.” I turn away, unable to let her see the struggle in my eyes. “Please.”

I hear the soft intake of her breath, the way her heartbeat quickens, and I know she caught the plea in my voice. The magic pulses between us, stronger than ever, making the shadows retreat and the stones sing with possibility—a possibility I know I can’t afford to explore right now.

“Ronan,” Briar says softly, stepping closer, her concern palpable. “I can help.”

Her words tug at something deep within me, igniting a flicker of hope before I harden my resolve.

“I can’t risk it. You have to trust me on this.” The castle's spirits sigh as if echoing my thoughts, but the truth is I’m far too invested in her safety to invite danger into her life.

“Please...” I add, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll come to you shortly and explain everything. Just… stay in your room for now.”

The magic hums with tension as she processes my words. I catch a glimpse of uncertainty in her expressive eyes, yet there’s also a spark of understanding—she knows there’s more at stake than what lies between us. I can see her desire to help me, to unravel the complexities of my world, and it simultaneously soothes and terrifies me.

I can feel how much I’ve come to need her—not just for my sanity, but like the castle's magic itself, she becomes a vital part of my being. There’s a connection that grows stronger with each passing moment, promising warmth and light even in the darkest corners of Frostspire Keep.

But possibility is dangerous. Hope is dangerous. And Briar Everly is the most dangerous of all.

“Trust me,” I urge, my own voice cracking, betraying the turmoil within. “I’ll find you soon.”

As I walk away, I can’t shake the feeling that pushing her away is becoming increasingly impossible. I take one last glance back at her, my heart heavy with the weight of what I’m trying to protect.

Each moment spent with Briar weaves her deeper into the fabric of my life, and the thought of severing that connection weighs on me more than I want to admit.

I listen to her footsteps fade, each step taking a piece of warmth with it, leaving the air around me colder and more sterile.

The castle’s ancient stones seem to sigh in sorrow as I turn my focus away from her, directing my attention back toward the alcove where Fiona disappeared. As I do, I notice frost creeping across the stones again.

The curse tightens its grip, punishing me for even these brief moments of connection. It seems to sense my turmoil, my indecision, and it revels in the chaos I cannot fully control.

Something is coming. I can feel it thrumming beneath the surface, echoing in Fiona's furtive calls and Angelic's subtle warnings.

The atmosphere is tense and strained, as if the very magic of the castle is fighting against its own decay. And somehow, strangely enough, Briar stands at the center of it all, like a beacon amidst the encroaching dark.

The question is whether I can protect her from what's coming—or if I'll be the thing she needs protection from most.

I watch Fiona slip around the corner, her phone still clutched to her chest. The sight raises a new wave of suspicion in me. I focus my senses, straining to catch even a fragment of her conversation as the urgency in her tone piques my interest.

“Rurik... I need your guidance,” she breathes out, her voice laced with desperation. "The magic shifts when she's around. Yes, I'll keep watching, but-"

She cuts off abruptly as I round the corner. Her eyes widen, and she shoves the phone into her pocket. "Mr. Wolfe! I was about to?—"

"About to what?" The temperature drops with my words. "Making calls in the castle?"

Color drains from her face. "It's nothing, sir. Personal matter."

But her heart races, betraying the lie. The curse pulses beneath my skin, recognizing something in her fear that sets my wolf on edge. Behind me, frost spreads across the windows.

"Who were you talking to?"

"No one important." She smooths her uniform, an old nervous habit. "If you'll excuse me, the dining room needs?—"

"Stay." The word comes out as a growl. "You mentioned magic shifting. What exactly are you watching?"

Her fingers twist in her apron. "I only meant... the castle seems different lately. With Miss Everly here."

Briar. Of course this is about Briar.

"Who asked you to watch her?"

Fiona's silence speaks volumes. The curse writhes under my skin as pieces click into place— her recent absences, the way she hovers near Briar's room, those furtive phone calls.

"Rurik." The name tastes like acid. "You're reporting to my brother."

She doesn't deny it. Doesn't run. But her eyes dart toward the exit, calculating.

"How long?"

"Mr. Wolfe, please understand?—"

"How. Long?"

“Since the beginning.” Her voice wavers, a tremor slicing through the tension.

A growl erupts from my throat, primal and raw, echoing off the stone walls. My beast stirs, furious at the implications of her words.

“You foolishly allowed Rurik to pull you into his dangerous game,” I hiss, my voice low and laced with menace. The air crackles with my anger as I step closer, forcing her to meet my gaze. “And I won’t let him—or you—use Briar.”

I can feel the walls closing in as I realize that this is the final strike. Fiona's deception has sealed her fate. It’s time to end this once and for all—I need to protect what’s mine, and that means kicking her out of the castle.

“He said... he said he could help me. That when the curse breaks?—”

Ice spreads from my feet, crackling across the floor. "The curse isn't breaking. It's killing us all."

"That's not what he says." A hint of defiance enters her tone. "He has plans. Ways to fix everything, if we help him study the magic's response to her."

The walls groan around us, ancient stones protesting as my anger feeds into the curse. Help him study the magic. Study Briar. My brother's "experiments" have found a new target.

"Get out." My voice drops to a dangerous whisper. "Pack your things and leave. Now."

"But—"

"Before I forget you're human."

"But…the curse."

"You should have thought about that before you fed my brother information." The words erupt from me, laced with fury. "Go!"

My command reverberates through the castle, shaking the very foundations.

Dust and plaster fall from the ceiling, the air thickening with tension as the walls seem to groan in response. My anger fills the space, and Fiona's expression shifts to fear.

She runs. The sound of her footsteps fades, leaving me alone with too many dangerous truths. The curse pounds through my blood, demanding action. My brother's reach extends further than I imagined, his corruption seeping into my home, threatening what's mine.

What's mine. The thought brings Briar's face to mind, and with it, a surge of protective fury I can no longer deny. The castle's magic responds, shadows deepening as my resolve hardens.

Time to end this. Time to face my brother and the darkness he's unleashed.

I pull out my phone, ignoring how it flickers in the castle's unstable magic. Rurik's number waits like a coiled snake, ready to strike.

My finger hovers over the screen, heart racing. “You’ve gone too far this time, brother,” I mutter under my breath, the weight of my words heavy in the dim air.

With a determined breath, I hit call, preparing to lure him in.

“Rurik,” I growl when the line connects, each syllable filled with intensity. “I’m here. Come and face me.”

Silence stretches, thick with tension. I can almost feel his presence lurking beyond the walls of the castle. “You’ve been hiding for too long,” I add, my voice a low challenge. “I’m offering you a chance to finish this.”

His chilling laughter echoes in my ear, the sound twisting my gut. “You think you can draw me out? How quaint.”

“Meet me at The Keep.”