Whispers in the Dark

The night air grew colder, wrapping Evelyn and Lucien in an eerie stillness. The overgrown garden, once a place of buried memories, now felt like a battleground for truths long hidden.

Lucien's fingers tightened around Evelyn's. "We should leave before someone notices we're here."

Evelyn hesitated. "What if there's more to find? More clues?"

Lucien glanced around, his golden eyes scanning the shadows. "There might be. But whoever erased your memories didn't want you remembering. The closer we get to the truth, the more dangerous this becomes."

Evelyn's pulse quickened. "I don't care. I've lived in the dark for too long."

Lucien studied her for a moment before nodding. "Then we do this carefully."

They moved deeper into the ruins of the estate, their footsteps muffled by the damp earth. As they approached the remnants of what used to be the grand ballroom, Evelyn felt a strange sensation—like the very air around her was shifting.

Then, a whisper.

Soft, distant, yet unmistakable.

"Evelyn…"

She froze. "Did you hear that?"

Lucien's body tensed. "Yes."

The whisper came again, curling through the air like a ghost's breath. Evelyn turned toward the source—an arched doorway that led to what remained of the estate's interior.

Lucien reached for her arm. "Be careful."

She stepped inside, her heart pounding. The air smelled of dust and time, and yet, something else lingered beneath it—a familiar scent, like jasmine and rain.

A flicker of movement caught her eye. In the dim light, she saw the faint outline of a figure—a woman, draped in flowing silk, standing at the far end of the room.

Evelyn's breath hitched. "Who are you?"

The figure lifted a hand and, in a voice that sent chills down Evelyn's spine, whispered, "Find me before they do."

And then, as suddenly as she had appeared, she vanished into the darkness.

Lucien grabbed Evelyn's hand. "We have to go. Now."

Evelyn's mind raced. Who was she? And why did she feel so impossibly familiar?

One thing was clear—whatever had happened in the past wasn't finished yet. And someone, somewhere, was waiting to be found.