Whispers of the Abyss

A chill slithered down Amelia's spine as she approached the door, her bare feet barely making a sound against the cold floor. The knock had been sharp—firm—yet now, silence pressed against the wood like a suffocating presence.

She leaned in, pressing her ear against the surface, but there was nothing. No footsteps. No breath.

Nothing.

Her pulse quickened.

"Cora? Is that you?" Her voice was a whisper, fragile in the thick stillness of the room.

No response.

The silence stretched, coiling around her like an unseen force, suffocating, omnipresent.

Amelia swallowed hard and took a step back, waiting. Hoping.

The knock never came again.

Her fingers hovered over the doorknob, hesitation freezing her in place. Then—

A thud.

Her breath hitched as her head snapped toward the window.

Her stomach dropped.

The window, which she was certain had been locked, was now open. And standing there, as if he had materialized from the very shadows themselves, was Leonard.

He closed the window with a lazy flick of his wrist, his crimson eyes glowing faintly in the dim room.

"You—" Amelia's voice cracked. She scrambled backward, her hands fumbling in her pocket for the pepper spray. "How did you get in? I locked it."

Leonard's lips curled into a smirk, an amused tilt to his head as he took an unhurried step forward.

"Locks?" He chuckled, his voice low and smooth. "Darling, those are for keeping out humans."

The words sent a shiver racing through her veins.

He moved before she could react, closing the distance between them in a breath.

Too close.

Amelia's back hit the door, trapping her between its solid surface and the looming figure in front of her.

The dim lighting cast deep shadows on Leonard's face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the unnatural gleam in his crimson eyes.

"Now, now," he murmured, his warm breath fanning against her skin, "didn't anyone ever tell you that curiosity kills the cat?"

Amelia's heart pounded, her body betraying her in ways she couldn't comprehend.

She should be terrified.

She was.

But mixed with that fear was something else—something dangerous.

"H-How is that possible?" she whispered, her gaze locked onto the unnatural glow of his irises.

Leonard expected a scream, the kind of raw, horrified reaction most people gave when confronted with something they couldn't explain. But Amelia—

She was different.

Even as fear flickered in her gaze, she wasn't running. She wasn't breaking.

Interesting.

"To think you'd escape after stumbling into something you shouldn't have seen," Leonard mused, his voice dripping with quiet amusement.

His fingers brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, an almost absentminded gesture, but Amelia felt the weight of it, the unspoken warning laced beneath the action.

She opened her mouth, but before she could speak—

"Forget everything you saw at the library."

Leonard's voice shifted, taking on a strange, hypnotic lilt.

"You never left your room. You dozed off, and when you wake, this night will be nothing but a dream."

Amelia's body went rigid, her pupils dilating. Her mind blurred, consciousness slipping through her fingers like sand.

Then—

Darkness.

Her body slumped forward, her head landing against Leonard's chest.

For a moment, he stood still, staring down at the unconscious girl with mild annoyance. He was already preparing to push her away, to let her fall to the floor like all the others before her.

But—

His fingers twitched.

Her red hair spilled over her face, lips parted slightly as she breathed.

Leonard clenched his jaw.

Damn it.

A muscle ticked in his jaw as he scooped her up effortlessly, carrying her to the bed. He laid her down—softly, almost hesitantly.

Something he never did.

He always left.

Always.

Yet here he was, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek before exhaling sharply and stepping away.

He turned on his heel and disappeared into the shadows.

Meanwhile, in New Vesta City…

The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and burning incense.

Cora stepped out of the witch's house, the weight of unanswered questions pressing against her chest. The night was cool, yet a strange heat burned beneath her skin.

Behind her, Damien lingered .

"You should go,"the witch murmured, but he didn't move.

Instead, he tilted his head, watching Marilyn with a slow, knowing smirk.

"Something on your mind, sweetheart?" he drawled, his voice laced with that insufferable cockiness.

The witch's lips curled, eyes dark with mischief.

"Is there some special treatment you'd like, my Prince?" She ran her fingers through her hair, a sultry smile playing on her lips.

Damien chuckled, slow and deep, stepping closer.

"You wish," he murmured, his voice low and taunting.

Then, in the same breath, his amusement faded, replaced by something sharper.

"When you said she was connected to the sea," he asked, his tone deceptively casual, "did you mean as a mermaid?"

Marilyn snorted.

"You really are insufferable." She sighed, crossing her arms. "I couldn't decipher what she is, but the connection is undeniable. Not all those tied to the sea are mermaids."

Her expression darkened.

"Let's pray she isn't."

Damien's brow arched. "And why's that?"

Marilyn met his gaze, her voice dropping.

"Because if she is, she won't live long."

A flicker of something unreadable crossed Damien's face before he masked it with a lazy smirk.

He turned away, running a hand through his hair as he stepped outside, where Cora was waiting.

"Is it possible that I'm a mermaid?" she whispered, barely moving her lips beneath the mask.

Damien studied her, his gaze hooded.

"You tell me, little bird."

Cora's chest tightened.

She had never transformed. Never felt anything beyond the strange pull toward the ocean, the way the waves had always felt like a whispered song meant only for her.

Yet, the way Marilyn spoke…

She clenched her fists.

"How about we pay your stepmother a visit?" Damien suggested, extending a hand toward her, his smirk ever-present.

Cora hesitated.

Her mother—Evelyn—had always kept her safe. She had protected her from the scrutiny of their neighbors.

Did she know?

Did she know what Cora truly was?

Her heart pounded as she took Damien's hand, ignoring the way his fingers closed around hers with a smug possessiveness.

"Careful," he murmured, leaning in just enough for his breath to tickle her ear.

"You might puke over yourself if you don't hold on tight ."

Cora glared but smiled.

And with that, he led her into the night—toward answers wrapped in shadows.