Whispers in the Dark    

[IRIS]

I swallowed hard, panic starting to claw at my insides. I tried to call out, but my voice cracked with fear.

"Y-You . . . who are you? Are you the one who brought me here?" I asked, the words trembling as they left my mouth. I sniffed the air, but my senses were still off, dulled by fever.

The old woman's smile didn't fade. In fact, it widened further, if that was even possible. Her voice came soft, kind, almost soothing in its gentleness. "Brought you here? Why, of course. I was the one who took you here."

Relief washed over me for a moment, and I let out a shaky breath, reassured by her calm demeanor.

"Are you the one who took care of me?" I asked, my voice faltering as I tried to steady my racing heart.

"That's right, dear," she confirmed, her eyes not quite meeting mine, but drifting aimlessly around the cave, as though she were looking for something that wasn't there.

I didn't know what to make of it. I had hoped . . . hoped it would be Lorcan. But it wasn't. Somehow, I had already known it wouldn't be.

"Thank you," I said, my words trailing off in a weak whisper, but something inside me stirred with a sense of disappointment.

"It's nothing, dear," the woman replied, her voice almost too sweet. Her eyes never met mine. She seemed to be staring at something far beyond me, lost in a thought I couldn't begin to understand.

But then, she spoke again, her voice now carrying a strange, almost urgent note. "Now, why don't you come out here, dear? Come with me to my house. It's not safe here anymore."

A cold shiver ran down my spine. Something didn't feel right, but I couldn't put my finger on it. My instincts screamed at me to stay, to stay in the cave where I could at least feel some semblance of safety, but the woman's voice . . . it was gentle, coaxing, hypnotic.

"Why didn't you bring me to your house in the first place?" I asked, my voice small but with a flicker of suspicion.

The old woman paused for a moment, her eyes flickering upward as if considering her response. "Well, it was raining so hard that day, dear," she said, her words slow, deliberate. "I couldn't carry you all the way. I left you here until you recovered. But now . . . now we must hurry."

It made sense, or at least it should have. But that creeping feeling in the back of my mind only grew stronger.

"Oh," I whispered. "Thank you, and sorry for the trouble."

"It's no trouble at all," she said, dismissing my words with a wave. Then she smiled again, her face twisting into something even more unsettling. "Now come, dear. We must go before it gets dark."

The moment I stepped outside the cave, a chill ran through me. The air had changed; the rain was still coming down in sheets, but there was something . . . off about the way the trees seemed to loom closer, their dark shapes swallowing the fading light. The old woman turned and began to walk, her gait unnaturally fast for someone so frail. I almost had to jog to keep up.

"My house isn't far from here," she said, her voice like honey, thick and slow. "Don't worry."

But as we moved deeper into the forest, away from the safety of the cave, I realized that the trees were closing in around us. The sunlight had long since faded, and now we were swallowed by the thick darkness of the jungle, where not even the moonlight could reach.

The old woman wasn't stumbling at all. She moved with an eerie fluidity, her steps sure and quick despite her frail form. I slowed, my heart thudding in my chest, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.

"How can you . . . how can you see in the dark?" I asked, unable to keep the question inside any longer. "Are you . . . are you a werewolf?"

The old woman stopped walking. Her head turned slowly, and she stared at me. The gaze was unnerving—unsettling. Her eyes were wide and dark, but not in the way a human's would be. They were too . . . too big.

"I'm not a werewolf," she said, her voice low, the words

coming with a strange finality.

Then her eyes flicked upward to the sky, where the moon was beginning to rise, casting a faint, eerie glow over the forest.

"I'm something more," she whispered, her eyes flashing blood red in the moonlight.

I took a step back, my pulse quickening, fear tightening around my chest. But before I could react, a rustling came from all around us. It wasn't just one noise, it was multiple—more than one. The forest seemed to come alive, the sound of footsteps and breathing, low growls and hushed whispers.

I turned slowly, heart hammering in my chest.

We weren't alone. And whatever this woman was . . . she had led me straight into their trap.

The shadows shifted and writhed, and I froze in terror as creatures emerged from the dark, their forms hulking and grotesque. They were monstrous—dark-skinned, covered in matted hair, their eyes glowing a fiery red like embers in the night. Long, sharp teeth and fangs jutted from their mouths, and their claws were thick and curved, glistening in the dim light. They were tall, towering over me with their massive frames, their presence suffocating.

Monsters of the night.