Page 53

Story: When Death Whispers

52

I wake up choking, the taste of blood thick and metallic on my tongue.

My lungs seize. I roll, coughing violently, every movement scraping raw. My ribs ache, my skin burns, and something inside me—something new—feels wrong.

When my vision finally clears, I find Rad crouched above me, glowing eyes sharp, face infuriatingly calm.

“What…” I rasp, coughing again. “What the fuck did you do?”

He arches a brow, lips twitching into that insufferable smirk. “You were bleeding out. I made a judgment call.”

I groan, pushing myself upright, fingers pressing into my side. I glance down to make sure, but there’s no gaping wound. No exposed bone. Just smooth skin marred by spider-like black veins, pulsing faintly beneath the surface like ink trapped in glass.

I stare, dread coiling in my gut. “What kind of judgment call?”

Rad leans back on his heels, clearly enjoying this. “You tasted demon blood. My blood, specifically. Welcome to team nightmare.” He pauses, dramatic as hell. “Congrats—you’re not entirely human anymore.”

I blink. “Excuse me?”

“Relax,” he drawls. “You’re still mostly mortal. Unfortunately. But now you’ve got a little extra edge. Maybe you’ll live long enough to help find Parker. Consider it a gift.”

I scrub a hand over my face, head spinning, pulse pounding hard enough to hurt. Demon blood. Fantastic.

“Why the fuck would you do that?”

For a second—just one—his smirk falters. I catch something raw flicker across his face. But then it’s gone, buried under smug indifference.

“As tempting as was the thought of leaving your sorry ass to rot, I’m certain Parker would never forgive me. And I can’t have that.”

He turns away abruptly, scanning our surroundings—and it hits me all over again.

The pink light. The forest that feels older. Taller. Like it evolved around her.

I remember the way those two demons looked at us in the clearing. Like they already knew the truth before we opened our mouths. Like the ground itself whispered her name.

The Evergloom didn’t just shift.

It answered her.

Now, pale rose veins pulse along the gnarled roots, spiraling up ancient trees that seem taller than before. The air’s still heavy, but it glows faintly now—like the realm itself is breathing in time with her.

“The fuck is happening,” I mutter, more to myself than anything.

Rad doesn’t answer. His gaze stays locked on the light—studying it like it’s a living thing. His tail flicks once, twice. There’s something tight in his posture. Controlled. Alert.

I push to my feet slowly. Everything feels heavier. Off. Like my body hasn’t quite caught up with whatever the hell he did to it.

But I follow him.

Because there’s no denying it now.

Parker did this.

And we’re just trying to keep up.

“What now?” I ask, voice lowered, barely audible.

He doesn’t answer, his gaze locked forward, pupils thinning to dangerous slits. I follow his line of sight—and see exactly what’s caught his attention.

The glowing path we’ve been following abruptly ends, blocked entirely by a dense wall of twisted thorns and shadowy vines. They form an impassable barrier, tangled and aggressive, stretching endlessly upward and outward like a monstrous fortress grown solely to deny entry.

Within the twisting thorns, shadows writhe and coil, sending a chill down my spine. The entire blockade radiates hostility like a huge flashing sign that says “do not enter.”

It’s not just a barrier—it feels alive, watching, waiting for us to step closer.

Unease prickles at the base of my neck. Whatever comfort the pink glow provided before is gone, swallowed by the overwhelming sense of threat emanating from the thorny wall ahead. Instinctively, every fiber of my being urges me to retreat.

But Rad takes another deliberate step forward, his claws flexing at his sides, the muscles in his back tensed with wary readiness. He surveys the obstacle, expression shifting between annoyance and grudging respect.

“This place doesn’t want us getting any closer,” he mutters darkly. He glances back at me briefly, his lips curling in a sharp, predatory grin. “Guess that means we’re on the right track.”