Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The Whispering Shadows

As Evelyn pushed farther into the center of the woodland, it grew darker. With their branches creating twisted canopies that appeared to be alive, towering trees entwined to block out the waning sunshine. The journal's hints had led her to this location, in the heart of Blackpine Forest, the alleged starting point of her ancestors' curse. But as she moved closer to her destination, an oppressive weight settled over her, a sense of being watched from every direction.

Clutching the journal tightly. Evelyn muttered to herself, "This has to be the place."

The whisper of her voice felt intrusive, like an unwanted guest in the ancient stillness around her. She paused to listen. The only sound was her own shallow breathing and the crunch of leaves underfoot. Then came a faint, almost imperceptible noise the rustle of something moving behind her. She froze, her heartbeat thundering in her ears.

She could see the ruins ahead. Moss and vines covered the crumbling stone walls that rose from the ground. The building was older than she could have ever guessed. It appeared to be a neglected structure with its function weakened with time rather than a fortress or temple. Only the diary she carried retained the significance of the engravings and symbols that graced the remaining stones.

Evelyn stepped forward warily, her senses sharpened. The air became colder as she approached, and she started to hear an odd sound a low, murmuring chorus that sounded like dozens of voices speaking just out of earshot.

Go back.

The words were weak, jumbled, and appeared out of thin air. Evelyn spun around, looking into the darkness. There was no one there.

You shouldn't be here.

Her pulse quickened. The whispers grew louder, their tone shifting from warnings to something more insidious, a chorus of voices overlapping and feeding off her fear.

She clutched the silver dagger at her side, her knuckles white. "This isn't real," she whispered, trying to convince herself. "It's the curse. It's all in my head."

But the voices didn't stop. Instead, they grew clearer.

Evelyn shook her head violently, forcing herself to focus. She stepped into the ruins, the voices growing fainter as if the stones themselves held them at bay. The smell of rot and wet stone filled the air inside. She took the journal out and flipped through the pages till she came to the drawing of a similar ruin. According to her mother's writings, this location was the source of the curse, where her ancestor had sworn a vow that would end their lineage.

Evelyn moved further in, her eyes tracing the carvings on the walls. They depicted strange, horrifying scenes-figures kneeling before a shadowy entity, offering something in exchange for power. The shadow loomed larger in each panel, its form shifting and indistinct, but its eyes-two hollow voids seemed to follow her.

She felt the old symbols' grooves as she brushed her fingertips over the carvings. She felt as though each one spoke to her, a weird familiarity she couldn't identify. Evelyn understood that these carvings were a story, not just a warning, as her mother had written in her notebook. Her family had not been cursed; rather, it had been chosen, a last-ditch deal made while she was weak.

As her fingers paused on a specific engraving, her breath caught. It depicted a figure with a silver-gleaming dagger standing in the middle of the ruins. The shadow hung above them, and a pack of wolves laid at their feet. The caption beneath the carving was in an ancient script, but Evelyn's mind filled in the words as if she'd always known them:

"Blood breaks the pact. Sacrifice sets it free."

Evelyn's hands shook as she stepped back. What does it mean?

A sound broke through her thoughts a sharp snap of a branch. She spun around, dagger raised, but she saw nothing. The whispering voices had returned, louder now, almost mocking her.

"You shouldn't have come here," a low voice murmured, this one not part of the chorus. A man emerged from the shadows before Evelyn could respond. Before she could even raise her dagger, a blade cut through the air, inches from her. She staggered back, her gaze focusing on the hunter who had attacked her.

His eyes were cold and calculating, and his face was hardened and scarred from years of fighting. Without hesitation, he swung his blade once more with lethal accuracy. The blade narrowly missed Evelyn's neck as she ducked.

The hunter said in a merciless voice, "Stay down, girl." "That way, it will be quicker."

She moved quickly, following her instincts and newly discovered strength. Her silver blade brushed the hunter's arm as she slashed at him. He retreated a bit and swore, but his face simply

You'll die here.

Evelyn shook her head violently, forcing herself to focus. She stepped into the ruins, the voices growing fainter as if the stones themselves held them at bay. The smell of rot and wet stone filled the air inside. She took the journal out and flipped through the pages till she came to the drawing of a similar ruin. According to her mother's writings, this location was the source of the curse, where her ancestor had sworn a vow that would end their lineage.

Evelyn moved further in, her eyes tracing the carvings on the walls. They depicted strange, horrifying scenes-figures kneeling before a shadowy entity, offering something in exchange for power. The shadow loomed larger in each panel, its form shifting and indistinct, but its eyes-two hollow voids seemed to follow her.

She felt the old symbols' grooves as she brushed her fingertips over the carvings. She felt as though each one spoke to her, a weird familiarity she couldn't identify. Evelyn understood that these carvings were a story, not just a warning, as her mother had written in her notebook. Her family had not been cursed; rather, it had been chosen, a last-ditch deal made while she was weak.

As her fingers paused on a specific engraving, her breath caught. It depicted a figure with a silver-gleaming dagger standing in the middle of the ruins. The shadow hung above them, and a pack of wolves laid at their feet. The caption beneath the carving was in an ancient script, but Evelyn's mind filled in the words as if she'd always known them:

"Blood breaks the pact. Sacrifice sets it free."

Evelyn's hands shook as she stepped back. What does it mean?

A sound broke through her thoughts a sharp snap of a branch. She spun around, dagger raised, but she saw nothing. The whispering voices had returned, louder now, almost mocking her.

"You shouldn't have come here," a low voice murmured, this one not part of the chorus. A man emerged from the shadows before Evelyn could respond. Before she could even raise her dagger, a blade cut through the air, inches from her. She staggered back, her gaze focusing on the hunter who had attacked her.

His eyes were cold and calculating, and his face was hardened and scarred from years of fighting. Without hesitation, he swung his blade once more with lethal accuracy. The blade narrowly missed Evelyn's neck as she ducked.

The hunter said in a merciless voice, "Stay down, girl." "That way, it will be quicker."

She moved quickly, following her instincts and newly discovered strength. Her silver blade brushed the hunter's arm as she slashed at him. He retreated a bit and swore, but his face simply grew gloomier.

"You're exactly like them," he growled. "A monster."

Evelyn retaliated with all of her strength when the hunter struck again. Her movements were faster than she expected, her senses sharper, but she was still untrained. The hunter was experienced, and it showed in the way he anticipated her every move.

Blow after blow, they clashed, the sound of steel ringing out in the quiet ruins. Evelyn managed to land a few hits, but the hunter was relentless. He struck her side, and pain flared through her, but she didn't let it slow her down.

Evelyn started to sense the draw once more as the battle went on, that untamed, primordial fury seething beneath the surface. Her strength increased and her vision improved. With increasingly ferocious and desperate strikes, she forced the hunter to retreat. She just caught a glimpse of terror in his eyes.

Evelyn took advantage of the hunter's mistake. She knocked his blade out of his hand with one last frantic swipe. She lunged, pressing him against the wall as he stumbled. Her breathing was labored, and her dagger hung inches from his throat.

With a quivering voice, she screamed, "Why are you after the artifact?"

Despite the blade to his throat, the hunter grinned. Do you believe that you are the only one who is cursed? That thing is your death, not your salvation. She didn't have time to think about his remarks, even though they made her shiver. Deeper than it should have been, a howl reverberated through the jungle. Real terror took the place of the hunter's sneer.

"They're on their way," he whispered.

Evelyn let him go after a brief moment of hesitation. With her dagger still up, she took a step back. Without any delay, the hunter vanished into the darkness.

The whispers came back, louder than before, as Evelyn stood by herself in the wreckage. They stopped warning her to go. Instead, with a tone that was almost...welcoming, they seemed to be pushing her farther into the ruins.

The shadowy creature grew larger, its hollow eyes staring into her as the engravings on the walls appeared to move in the fading light. She kept thinking about the carving's words: "Blood breaks the pact." It is set free by sacrifice. Evelyn turned and fled from the debris, trembling. But the whispers followed her, their haunting melody weaving through the trees as if the forest itself wouldn't let her go.

She didn't know what awaited her deeper in the forest, but one thing was clear: she was no longer just running from the curse. She was running toward something far darker.