Whispers of the Bridge

Chapter 7 Whispers of the Bridge

Avery couldn't sleep. The whispers wouldn't stop.

She lay in her bed, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. The Devourer's voice echoed in her mind — low, cold, and twisting like a knife in her thoughts.

"You can't save them… You're too weak… Too afraid…"

Avery squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her palms over her ears. "Stop," she whispered. "Just stop."

But the whispers kept crawling through her mind.

Suddenly, her room turned cold. Her breath turned misty, like she was standing outside in winter. A shadow flickered near the window. Then came a faint voice — soft and broken.

"Help me…"

Avery bolted upright in bed. Her heart pounded. The voice wasn't The Devourer — it was someone else. A spirit.

She climbed out of bed, grabbed her sketchpad, and crept to the window. Outside, the streetlights flickered, casting long shadows across the pavement. At the far end of the block, a figure stood beneath the flickering light — a young woman with pale skin and tangled hair. Her face was streaked with tears.

"Help me…" the ghost whispered again, her voice shaky and weak.

Avery swallowed hard. "What happened?" she asked softly.

The ghost's wide, hollow eyes locked onto Avery's. "They're coming… The bridge… Blood... So much blood…" Her voice broke, and her form flickered like a dying candle.

"Wait!" Avery called, but the spirit vanished into the night.

The next morning, Avery told Liam everything — the whispers, the ghost, and her warning about the bridge.

"We have to check it out," Avery insisted.

Liam frowned. "It could be dangerous. The cult might be planning something."

"I know," Avery said, "but if we don't act now, more people could die."

Liam sighed, running a hand through his messy black hair. "Fine. But we go together — no running off on your own."

By nightfall, they stood at the edge of the Golden Gate Bridge. The air felt colder than usual, and a thick fog clung to the water below. Avery's fingers tingled, and the faint sound of whispers drifted through the air — dozens of voices, calling out in pain.

"This place feels… wrong," she whispered.

Liam's hand moved to the knife strapped to his belt. "Stay close."

They walked along the bridge's walkway, following the whispers. Halfway across, Avery froze. A faint red glow shimmered on the pavement. She knelt down and brushed her fingers across the markings — strange symbols, drawn in what looked like dried blood.

"Is this…?" Avery's voice shook.

"It's a summoning symbol," Liam said grimly. "They're trying to call something powerful."

Suddenly, footsteps sounded behind them.

"Someone's here," Liam warned.

A dark figure emerged from the fog — a man in a long cloak with glowing red eyes. In one hand, he clutched a twisted dagger.

"You shouldn't be here," the man hissed. "The blood moon is coming… and you can't stop it."

The man slashed his dagger through the air, and a burst of dark energy shot toward them. Liam shoved Avery aside just in time.

"Run!" Liam shouted, drawing his knife.

But Avery didn't run. Her heart pounded, and heat burned in her chest. The symbols on the ground flared brighter — and suddenly, Avery felt something deep inside her stir.

The whispers returned, but this time they weren't cruel. They were desperate.

"Protect us… Help us…"

Avery rose to her feet and stretched out her hand. Energy rushed from her fingers — a bright, white light that collided with the dark force and shattered it like glass. The cloaked man stumbled back, his eyes wide with shock.

"You…," he growled. "You're marked."

Before Avery could respond, the man turned and vanished into the fog.

Back at Liam's apartment, Avery sat on the couch, still shaking.

"You saved us," Liam said quietly.

"I don't know how," Avery admitted. "I just... felt something. Like the spirits were guiding me."

Liam placed a warm hand on her shoulder. "Whatever it was, you're stronger than you think."

Avery gave him a small smile, but inside, she knew the danger wasn't over. The blood moon was coming — and if the cult's ritual succeeded, the city's darkest nightmare was just beginning.

The room felt heavy with silence. Avery sat on the couch, hugging her knees to her chest. The warm cup of tea Liam had made her sat untouched on the table. She couldn't stop thinking about the man with the glowing red eyes — or what he'd said.

You're marked.

"What did he mean?" Avery asked quietly. "Why did he say I was marked?"

Liam leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "It's probably because of The Devourer's influence. Whatever those witches did during the ritual you witnessed… they must've connected you to it somehow."

Avery rubbed her arm, feeling the faint burn where the cult's twisted symbol had appeared weeks ago. "But I didn't ask for this."

"I know," Liam said softly. "But you've got something they fear. That means you're not powerless."

Avery stared down at her hands. Earlier, that strange energy had burst from her fingertips like a lightning bolt — powerful and wild. She hadn't planned it. It had just… happened.

"What if I lose control?" she whispered.

Liam sat beside her. "You won't." His voice was firm, like he truly believed it. "You're stronger than you think."

Avery wanted to believe him.

The next day, they went back to the bridge. The symbols had faded, but the air still felt cold and wrong.

"This spot is important to them," Liam muttered, pacing the area. "There's something here — something powerful."

Avery knelt down, placing her palm flat against the pavement. Her skin tingled, and suddenly, images flashed through her mind.

A circle of hooded figures… a blood-red moon rising over the bridge… a jagged stone glowing dark crimson… screams echoing in the night…

Avery gasped and yanked her hand back.

"What did you see?" Liam asked.

"There's something under here," she said breathlessly. "An artifact — some kind of stone."

Liam's face darkened. "That's what they're after."

That evening, they visited a local library to search for clues. Avery's fingers flipped through old books, her eyes scanning faded pages filled with myths and legends.

"Here!" Liam called, pushing a dusty book toward her.

The page showed a sketch of a jagged black stone with glowing red veins. Below it, the caption read:

The Heart of Dazriel — a cursed artifact said to control the boundary between worlds. Legend claims it was hidden beneath the Golden Gate Bridge to seal away an ancient evil. If awakened under a blood moon, the stone's power can tear the veil between life and death.

"That's what they're after," Avery muttered. "The Heart of Dazriel…"

"And they're planning to use it during the blood moon," Liam added grimly. "That's in less than two weeks."

Avery's stomach turned. "If they break the barrier… what happens?"

Liam's face was grim. "The Devourer won't just whisper in your mind anymore… He'll have a way to cross over — into our world."

Avery's breath hitched. The thought of that dark, twisted voice becoming something real — something solid — made her skin crawl.

"We can't let that happen," she said firmly.

Liam nodded. "We won't."

Later that night, Avery sat alone in her apartment, sketchpad in hand. She tried to draw something peaceful — a view of the Golden Gate Bridge bathed in warm sunlight — but her hand refused to cooperate. Instead, her pencil dragged across the page, forming jagged shapes and shadowed faces.

When she finished, her breath caught. The page showed a figure — tall and shrouded in darkness — standing at the center of a glowing red circle. The figure's face was twisted, eyes burning like embers.

The Devourer.

A cold shiver ran down her spine.

Suddenly, a sharp knock sounded at her door. Avery jumped, her heart racing.

"Who is it?" she called.

"It's me," Liam's voice answered.

Relieved, Avery hurried to open the door. But the second she did, Liam stumbled inside, his shirt torn and smeared with blood.

"Oh my God!" Avery gasped. "What happened?"

"Ambush," Liam muttered, wincing as he collapsed onto the couch. "Some of the cult members followed me… I think they know we're onto them."

Avery rushed to grab a towel, pressing it against the gash on his arm. "We need to get you to a hospital."

"No," Liam groaned, gripping her wrist. "No hospitals… They'd ask too many questions. Just… just clean it."

Avery's hands trembled as she grabbed her first-aid kit. As she worked, Liam's breathing slowed, and the tension in his face eased.

"You saved me," he mumbled weakly.

"You've saved me more than once," Avery whispered back.

Liam's hand found hers, his fingers curling around hers tightly. "We're in this together," he murmured before his eyes closed in exhaustion.

Avery watched him sleep, her mind racing. The Devourer's cult was growing bolder, and the blood moon was getting closer. If they didn't act soon, San Francisco would be swallowed in darkness.

But she wasn't giving up — not now.

"I'll stop them," she whispered. "Even if it kills me."

Avery sat beside Liam as he slept, his chest rising and falling steadily. The blood on his arm was cleaned, and the bandages she'd wrapped were tight and secure. But her mind wasn't on Liam anymore. It was on the strange energy she'd felt at the bridge — the power that had rushed through her like a bolt of lightning.

Her fingers tingled just thinking about it. The energy had felt… familiar. Almost like it belonged to her.

Quietly, Avery stood and grabbed her sketchpad. The image she'd drawn earlier — The Devourer standing in a glowing red circle — still stared back at her. She shivered but forced herself to keep looking.

Why does this feel so personal?

She reached for her pencil, but before she could touch the page, her fingertips went numb. The world seemed to tilt, and suddenly, her vision blurred.

She wasn't in her apartment anymore.

Avery stood beneath the Golden Gate Bridge, the air thick with mist. Shadows swirled around her, flickering like smoke. At the center of it all stood a large stone — jagged and black, with deep crimson veins glowing across its surface.

The Heart of Dazriel.

The whispers returned — soft at first, then louder. Desperate voices overlapping one another.

"Protect it… Protect the heart…"

Suddenly, a figure stepped from the mist — a woman with dark hair and a long cloak. Her face was stern, her sharp eyes locked on Avery.

"You've felt its power," the woman said. "It's part of you now."

Avery's mouth went dry. "What are you talking about?"

The woman's gaze softened. "Your blood is tied to it," she said. "The Heart chose you."

"That's impossible!" Avery stammered. "I'm not… I'm not special."

The woman stepped closer. "The Devourer's cult marked you because they know the truth. Only someone connected to the Heart can destroy it… or awaken it."

"Destroy it?" Avery repeated. "I don't even know how."

"You'll learn," the woman said firmly. "But you must be careful — the Heart's power will call to you. If you give in… it will consume you."

Before Avery could respond, the mist thickened, swallowing everything. The woman's voice faded into a whisper.

"Stay strong… Or the darkness will win…"

Avery jerked awake, gasping for air. Her sketchpad lay forgotten on her lap, her pencil rolling across the floor. Her heart pounded as her mind replayed the vision.

She was tied to the Heart of Dazriel.

That's why her powers were growing. That's why the cult was after her.

"Only someone connected to the Heart can destroy it… or awaken it."

Avery swallowed hard. The weight of her new reality sank in. If she failed to control her powers — if she let the Heart's influence consume her — she might become the very thing she was trying to stop.

She turned her gaze to Liam, still asleep on the couch. His face looked calm now, but she knew the danger was far from over.

"I'll figure this out," she whispered to herself. "I have to."