Chapter 66: Whispers in the Dark

The room was eerily still. No sound except the ragged breaths that came from Sanlang as he knelt before her, his hands trembling, fists clenched against the invisible force rising within him. The walls of the dimly lit hall were adorned with rich tapestries, but even they couldn't disguise the tension thick in the air. Noor's gaze never wavered as she watched him, her eyes, the color of a blood moon, cold and calculating.

She knew what was coming. She had known always . Perhaps even before Sanlang had.

"Sanlang," she said quietly, her voice slicing through the silence like a blade, " It's yours now. And You're mine."

Her words were a command, not a plea, and they wrapped themselves around him like chains. Sanlang's chest rose and fell sharply, his silver eyes now gleaming with an unnatural hunger. She could see it, feel it—the battle within him.

His eyes locked onto hers, and for the briefest moment, she saw a flicker of recognition. A longing that almost shattered her resolve. But then it was gone, replaced by something darker, something more dangerous.

His voice came out in a low growl, deep and unsettling, "What have you done ?"

Noor's lips curved into a faint smile, though her heart beat a little faster. She had no answer for him—not one that would ease his suffering, not one that would change the path he was now on.

" Sanlang," she whispered, stepping forward, her bare feet silent against the cold stone floor.

Sanlang's body convulsed, the muscles in his arms bulging, his nails elongating into vicious claws. The air crackled around them, the power surging through his veins like molten lava. He growled again, his voice shaking with anger and pain, the force of it shaking the room. "No..."

But Noor could feel it—the heat rising within him. The hunger. The rage. And she felt her own pulse quicken, her breath hitching as he looked at her, as if seeing her for the first time.

"Sanlang…" Her voice trailed off as she stepped closer, her eyes never leaving his, her heart pounding as she silently willed him to take that final step.

His chest heaved as his claws began to sink into the stone floor beneath him, the sound of cracking rock filling the silence. "You are mine," she said again, each word deliberate, her voice low but commanding.

The man—no, the beast—before her seemed to respond to her command. His movements were fast, like lightning, and before she could blink, he was standing, towering over her with a presence so overwhelming, so intoxicating, that it stole the air from her lungs.

And then, without hesitation, he reached for her. His hands gripped her with an intensity that made her gasp, his fingers cold, almost like death itself. The moment he touched her, a jolt of electricity ran through her, making her shiver, her body reacting in ways she hadn't expected.

"I am yours to command," he whispered, his voice hoarse, his breath hot against her neck. "Tell me to end it."

There was no hesitation this time. Noor's lips parted, her voice barely more than a whisper, but it was enough to set him off.

"Kill ."

Sanlang's hands tightened around her, the pressure of his grip threatening to break the fragile tension between them. The beast in him, awakened by Noor's words, was no longer just a whisper in the back of his mind—it was a storm, crashing against every barrier he had once held dear. His eyes burned with a wild intensity, and in them, Noor saw —an insatiable hunger that was more than physical, a need so deep it could consume them both.

"Do you want me to stop?" Her voice was low, quiet, almost imperceptible against the roar of his desires. The words hung between them, sharp and delicate, like a single thread holding them together.

Sanlang's lips curled into a twisted smile, his teeth glinting in the dim light as his eyes flickered over her. "Noor," he growled, the words raw and desperate. "I want you to lead me____ to burn it all down."

His breath was hot on her skin, and the tension between them crackled, alive with the electric pulse of anticipation. Every instinct screamed at her to pull away, to stop the inevitable destruction that was coming.

With a slow, deliberate motion, she reached up, her fingers brushing against his chest—cold, unyielding. She could feel the energy vibrating through his body, his heart racing with the pounding rhythm of his transformation. And yet, there was still something familiar in him. Something that made her hesitate, even now.

His hands were at her waist before she could think, pulling her close with a fierce intensity that took her breath away. The warmth of his body seeped into her, and for a fleeting second, she saw the man he had once been— But that man was fading fast, replaced by something darker, something far more dangerous.

"Sanlang," she whispered, her voice breaking, betraying the raw edge of emotion she had kept locked away for so long. His name slipped from her lips like a prayer, a plea for something, anything, to stop this madness.

His lips crashed against hers, hard and bruising, demanding, as if he were trying to consume her whole. And in that moment, Noor felt the weight of everything they had been—and everything they had lost—bearing down on her.

Her hands found his shoulders, gripping them tightly as she kissed him back, her body igniting with a passion that she had long denied herself. She knew the consequences. She knew the cost of this kind of surrender. But in his arms, in that single, searing kiss, she allowed herself to forget everything else. The world outside, the chaos, the power struggle—it all melted away as their bodies collided, as their souls reached out to touch in the only way they knew how.

Sanlang pulled away, his chest heaving, his eyes wild with desire and confusion. "What have you done ?" he rasped, the pain in his voice cutting through the haze of lust and rage.

Noor's eyes softened, though the coldness never left them. "kang. You did this to yourself," she whispered, her hands running down his chest, feeling the tremors beneath his skin.

He shook his head, the fight still raging inside him. "I can't— and I won't stop it."

Noor stepped back, her gaze unwavering as she took in the man before her—the creature he had become. "You don't have to," she said, her voice cool, but the words laced with an unspoken promise. "I shall embrace you—in the remnants of who you were, the essence of who you are, and the unknown of who you will become. No force of time or fate will unwrite you from me."

Sanlang stared at her, his fists clenching at his sides. His body was shaking, the raw power.

But there was one thing Sanlang knew for certain, even as the beast within him roared for release.

---

Sanlang didn't hesitate as he spoke, "Your wish is my command." In the blink of an eye, he moved, a blur of lethal speed. The nearest soldier had no time to scream as Sanlang's claws ripped through his throat, the sound of flesh tearing drowned by the wet splash of blood. Sanlang's movements were swift, precise, and deadly.

The remaining soldiers screamed, trying to form some sort of defense, but they were no match for the demon Sanlang had become. He moved faster than their eyes could track, a shadow among men. He clawed through flesh and bone as if they were paper, the walls soon painted with the blood of his victims.

One soldier tried to draw his sword, but Sanlang was on him before he could even raise his hand. With a sharp twist, Sanlang broke his neck, the body crumpling lifelessly to the floor. Another man, in sheer desperation, emptied an entire clip of bullets at Sanlang. But they bounced harmlessly off his skin, not even slowing him down. Sanlang's lips curled into a snarl, and in one smooth motion, he drove his fist through the soldier's chest, pulling his still-beating heart from his body.

"Futile." Sanlang's voice dripped with cold satisfaction as he threw the heart aside, stepping over the now-lifeless body.

Noor had retreated to Drangheta's throne. She sat regally, her eyes never leaving the carnage that Sanlang unleashed. Her lips barely moved as she muttered dark words under her breath, further empowering him, fueling his insatiable bloodlust. The blood from her neck wound trickled slowly, mixing with the splatters on her dress, but she was unmoved by the pain.

Drangheta, now watching from the shadows, smiled faintly as the scene unfolded before him. He stepped back, his hands resting behind his back, and turned toward Zeyla and Maya, who were paralyzed in horror.

"She and the devil," Drangheta said, his voice calm, almost admiring. "they walk side by side. It's not Noor you should be afraid of." He gestured toward the blood-soaked battlefield, where Sanlang tore through the last remaining group of men. "It's him."

Zeyla's breath hitched, her eyes glued to the horror before her. She could barely comprehend the speed at which Sanlang was killing, each movement calculated, each strike fatal. His face, once so familiar, was now twisted with bloodlust, his silver eyes glowing with a madness she had never seen. The air was thick with the stench of blood and death, the once grand hall now a slaughterhouse.

Maya, standing beside Zeyla, trembled as she watched. "What... what is she?" Maya whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Not what," Drangheta replied softly, his eyes still on Noor. "Who." He glanced at Sanlang, who was now covered in the blood of the fallen, standing victorious among the corpses. "Not her but its him who is the danger now."

As if on cue, Sanlang let out a deafening roar, his fangs bared as he leapt onto the last group of men. His claws shredded through armor and flesh alike, his growls mixing with the screams of the dying. His movements were a deadly dance, each step bringing death closer. The once-proud soldiers of Drangheta fell like wheat before a scythe, their blood running like rivers across the floor.

In mere minutes, the hall had fallen silent. Sanlang stood amidst the carnage, his chest heaving, his eyes still glowing with the remnants of his bloodlust. He turned back to Noor, his face covered in blood, his body drenched in the evidence of his slaughter.

The hall was drenched in blood, a macabre tapestry woven from the slaughter that Noor had unleashed. Corpses lay in grotesque disarray, their lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling, their final screams now lost in the thickened silence. The stench of death was suffocating, a suffocating weight in the air, yet Noor stood unmoved at the center, her form drenched in crimson, her eyes glowing like molten coals in the darkness.

Above, on the third floor, Kieren watched in frozen horror, his back pressed against the wall as his mind reeled in disbelief. The devastation before him was something he had never imagined—Noor, the woman who had always been calm, collected, and seemingly pure, now a merciless harbinger of destruction. Her gaze met his, and a chilling smile curled at the corners of her lips.

"I'm coming for you, Kieren," she murmured, the words dripping with a promise of terror. Her voice was sweet, yet it held a dark edge, like a lullaby sung by a predator.

Without warning, Noor was gone, her movement so swift it defied human comprehension. She landed before Kieren with a force that cracked the floor beneath her, her gaze never wavering, her eyes now a dark abyss that reflected nothing but death.

"Noor, wait..." His voice was trembling, a flicker of desperation bleeding through his words, but it did nothing to stop her.

She said nothing, her hand extending toward him as shadows coiled around her fingers, dark energy swirling like a storm waiting to be unleashed. "You don't get to beg now," she whispered, the words an icy threat. "Not after what you've done."

Before she could strike, a voice cut through the air, low and taunting—Drangheta, emerging from the shadows. His gaze locked onto Noor, amusement flickering in his dark eyes. "Is this what they worship? This demon standing before us?" he sneered, his voice laced with mockery.

Zeyla, standing off to the side, watched in horror. Her body was stiff, her eyes wide with disbelief as she tried to understand what was happening. The Noor she had known—her protector, her savior—could not be this creature of nightmares before her. Her knees trembled, but she remained silent, rooted in place by the gravity of the moment.

Maya, however, felt something dark stir deep within her, a truth she had never wanted to acknowledge. She stepped forward, her voice quiet but heavy with the weight of realization. "She doesn't pray for us," Maya whispered to Zeyla, her words haunted and broken. "She prays to keep her monster at bay."

Her voice trembled, but there was an eerie beauty in the way it rang out, the truth she spoke settling like a shadow over everything. Zeyla's heart skipped, her chest tightening as she took in Maya's words, but it was as though the very air around them had thickened, each word sinking in with a weight that almost crushed her spirit. Noor—the woman they had adored, the one who had protected them—was not who they thought she was. She was a force of destruction contained only by the fragile thread .

Noor turned to face them, her eyes now glowing with a fiery intensity, as if the depths of hell itself had ignited within her. "I do not pray for peace," she hissed, her voice a low growl that sent shivers down Zeyla's spine. "For peace shall it never be granted ."

Her words echoed in the silence, haunting in their honesty.

Zeyla swallowed hard, the weight of the revelation pressing down on her chest. "Madam Noor... please," she whispered, her voice breaking, as if she could still reach the woman she had once believed to be a savior.

But Noor's gaze was unwavering. There was no mercy in her eyes, no trace of the woman who had taught them to be strong. There was only the cold, unfeeling force of the monster she had become.

Sanlang, having emerged from the shadows, moved with the same ferocity and grace as the beast . He stood at Noor's side, his silver eyes gleaming with the same hunger. As Kieren cowered, Sanlang's eyes narrowed, his hands tightening around the man's throat in a swift, lethal motion.

Noor's voice cut through the tension. "This one is mine," she said, her tone final, as though the matter was already decided.

And with that, Kieren's fate was sealed. Sanlang, with a savage growl, sunk his fangs into Kieren's neck, the sound of tearing flesh echoing through the hall. His body spasmed violently before going limp in Sanlang's unyielding grip, blood spilling like a river.

Noor turned away from the scene, her eyes cold as ice, her movements graceful yet terrifying. She walked toward Drangheta's throne, her every step sending a shiver through the room. She seated herself with eerie poise, her posture regal, yet there was nothing royal in the darkness that clouded her every movement.

"The war is not over," she whispered, her voice hollow, the weight of her words carrying with them an unbearable truth. "This is only the beginning."

Drangheta's eyes gleamed with twisted satisfaction. "You think this is power?" he asked, his voice low and mocking. "This is just the shadow of what Noor is capable of. The real danger... it isn't her. It's the devil beside her." He pointed to Sanlang, his grin widening as he reveled in the chaos he had helped orchestrate.

Zeyla and Maya stood motionless, their hearts shattered by the revelations that had been forced upon them. Maya, feeling a sickening mix of disbelief and sorrow, whispered one last time, her voice barely audible.

"She's not the woman we thought she was. She's a monster ."

The hall was a bloodied ruin, a canvas of bloodied red.The silence that followed the slaughter was deafening. It was as though the world itself had held its breath, recoiling in fear at what had just been unleashed.

She blinked, her vision swimming in a haze of blood and shadows. For a moment, everything was distant, like a nightmare she couldn't escape. The sharp sting of her power still throbbed beneath her skin, but it was fading—fading like the last embers of a dying fire.

What have I done?

Her eyes fell on Sanlang, standing before her. His bloodied hands shook, fingers twitching with a hunger that could not be quenched. His chest rose and fell with a rhythmic violence, and his eyes—those once gentle eyes—were now mirrors of an emptiness, a darkness that had taken root where warmth once lived.

The realization shattered something deep within her. The darkness she had tried to suppress had seeped out, claiming him in a way she couldn't reverse. He was lost. She was lost.

"Sanlang…" Her voice broke, fragile as glass, each syllable carrying the weight of a thousand regrets. Her breath hitched in her chest, a sob caught in her throat. She wanted to reach for him, to pull him back, but she knew it was too late.

He glanced at her, his eyes flickering with some distant recognition, but it was fleeting—like a wisp of smoke. He was still hers, but not hers. The creature before her was a product of her own rage, a creation of the darkness that she had unknowingly birthed.

Without thinking, Noor crossed the room, each step heavy with the weight of an eternity of mistakes. She knelt beside him, her trembling hands cupping his face. His skin burned with fever, his pulse erratic, like the heart of a hunted animal. She leaned in, pressing her lips to his ear, her voice barely a whisper, as if saying the words aloud might shatter what little was left of her.

"I'm sorry," she breathed, a tear slipping down her cheek, falling like a drop of rain on his fevered skin. "I never wanted this... never wanted to lose you."

She sank her teeth into her own wrist, the sharp pain grounding her in the moment. Blood welled up from the wound, dark and thick, and she pressed it to his lips. The warmth of her blood—her life—seeped into him, trying to erase the darkness, to bring him back. But as her blood entered his mouth, his body convulsed, as if fighting against the purity that she offered.

For a moment, she feared he would rip away from her, torn between the darkness inside and the human he had once been. His body quivered, the fangs receding, and she thought—Maybe, just maybe, I can still save him.

But when his body finally stilled, and his chest no longer heaved with rage, the look in his eyes told her all she needed to know.

This is the price of power, Noor thought bitterly. This is the price of loving someone like me.

The room was bathed in a soft, dim glow, the quiet hum of the world outside muffled by the heavy curtains. Sanlang's body lay across Noor's lap, his breath soft and shallow, unconscious, but still so incredibly close. His presence filled the space with a palpable tension, a delicate weight that pressed on her chest, making it hard to breathe.

Noor's fingers moved through his hair, slow, almost reverent, as if touching him like this could burn away the longing that had etched themselves into her soul. Her heart beat erratically, her chest tight, as her gaze lingered on the man, the man who had slipped through her fingers more times than she could count. He was here, now—unaware of the storm raging within her.

Her eyes, dark with sorrow and longing, fluttered closed as she leaned closer, her breath warm against his ear. Her soul was raw, laid bare by years of aching silence, of unspoken words that had built walls around her heart.

"From the moment our eyes met," she whispered, the words trembling, barely audible, yet suffused with an intensity that seemed to vibrate through the very air. "My soul knew yours—knew it like a star burning in the distance, unreachable yet undeniable. I have searched for you in dreams, in memories too shattered to piece together, in the hollow ache of a heart that never found its rest."

The tremor in her fingers as she cupped his face was all the evidence she needed of how much of herself she had poured into him, how much of her had been carved away for this moment. For him.

Her breath hitched in her throat as she brushed a tear from his cheek, her own tears threatening to spill. "Fear gripped my hands, doubt whispered poison in my ear… yet If love is my ruin, then let me burn. Let me be undone in the fire of this love."

The silence pressed in, thick with the weight of her words.

She could feel the scars, the distance that had stretched between them. Time had been both a cruel thief and a reluctant messenger, delivering him back to her when she had long given up hope. But she couldn't forgive fate—couldn't forgive it for all the moments lost.

Her voice lowered even more, barely a breath. "Time is a thief, Sanlang. But... it has brought you back to me, and for that, I forgive it. I forgive the silence, the broken pieces. I forgive everything... because you are here."

Her eyes closed for a brief moment, and she allowed herself to drift, to let the ache wash over her fully.Nothing except a fleeting, whispered connection in the dark.

Her voice faltered, the weight of the words catching in her throat. "A thousand years have passed,yet still—my heart kneels at your feet. It has always been yours. And it always will be."

She sat there in the stillness, the words echoing in the void, trembling with an intensity that she couldn't contain. There were no more illusions here.

Her eyes opened, and a tear fell silently down her cheek, tracing the curve of her jaw before it disappeared into the fabric of her dress. Her fingers remained gently entwined in his hair, her gaze softening, though the storm inside her never ceased. She had given everything —for this, and now, she would pay the price.

"Can you feel it, Sanlang?" she whispered, her lips grazing the edge of his ear. "Can you feel the pull, the tether never broken, no matter how far apart we've been?"

She closed her eyes once more, savoring the delicate moment, knowing that in this silence, in this quiet confession, she had said everything that mattered.