The Spirit’s Warning

The air in the tunnel grew heavier, thick with an unnatural stillness. Shadows writhed along the stone walls like living creatures, watching, waiting. Evelyne swallowed hard, her heartbeat thundering in her ears.

Azrael stood motionless beside her, golden eyes glowing faintly in the dark. He seemed unbothered by the eerie presence surrounding them, but Evelyne wasn't fooled. His shoulders were tense, his fingers curled slightly at his sides.

He was prepared for a fight.

That only made her more uneasy.

Evelyne forced herself to take a breath. "If a spirit is watching me, why hasn't it shown itself?"

Azrael's gaze flicked toward her. "It will."

A whisper crawled through the air.

Evelyne…

She stiffened, her blood running cold. The voice was distant but unmistakable—soft, layered with something ancient and sorrowful. It was the same voice she'd heard last night.

She turned sharply, scanning the darkness. "Who are you?"

The shadows shifted.

And then a form emerged from the mist.

It was barely more than a silhouette, its edges frayed and flickering like a dying flame. A woman. Her features were hazy, but Evelyne could make out long, flowing hair and hollow, luminous eyes that seemed to stare straight through her.

The spirit hovered in place, silent.

Evelyne's breath hitched. She took an instinctive step forward. "You were the one speaking to me."

The spirit's head tilted, as if studying her.

Then, it whispered, You are in danger.

Evelyne's pulse spiked. "From what?"

The spirit's gaze flicked to Azrael.

Evelyne tensed. "Him?"

Azrael remained still, unreadable.

The spirit shook its head. Not him.

A chill ran down Evelyne's spine. "Then who?"

The spirit hesitated, its form flickering like a candle in the wind. The pact is not as it seems…

Evelyne frowned. "What do you mean?"

Lies, the spirit rasped, voice growing more strained. Deception. You must uncover the truth before it is too late.

Evelyne's hands curled into fists. "What truth?"

The spirit trembled, as if struggling against some unseen force. The mist around it thickened, swirling violently. You must not trust...

The words cut off in a sharp, strangled sound.

Then, without warning—

The spirit screamed.

A deafening, soul-piercing wail echoed through the tunnel. The mist surged, clawing at Evelyne like icy fingers. Shadows twisted violently, writhing in agony.

Evelyne stumbled back, hands flying to her ears. The sound wasn't just noise—it was pain, raw and unfiltered, a sorrow so deep it felt like it was tearing through her very soul.

Azrael moved instantly.

Dark energy surged from him in a pulse of raw power. The mist recoiled, and the spirit's scream was abruptly cut off.

Silence fell.

Evelyne gasped for breath, shaking. Her ears rang, her vision blurred.

The spirit was gone.

The tunnel was still once more, as if nothing had happened.

But something had happened.

Azrael turned to her, his expression unusually grim. "Are you hurt?"

Evelyne shook her head, still catching her breath. "What… what just happened?"

Azrael's jaw tightened. "It was silenced."

Evelyne's stomach twisted. "By what?"

Azrael didn't answer immediately. Then, he murmured, "Something that doesn't want you to know the truth."

A shiver ran through her.

The spirit had tried to warn her.

And something had stopped it.

Evelyne forced herself to steady. "The pact… what did it mean by that?"

Azrael's golden eyes locked onto hers, intense and unyielding. "That is what we must find out."

The journey back was silent.

Evelyne's mind raced with questions, but she could feel the weight in Azrael's demeanor. He was deep in thought, his expression unreadable as they stepped through the iron doors and into the fortress halls.

She wasn't sure what unsettled her more—the spirit's warning or the fact that Azrael seemed genuinely concerned.

When they reached her chambers, Azrael finally spoke.

"Rest."

Evelyne turned to him, incredulous. "Rest? After that?"

His eyes darkened slightly. "You'll need your strength."

Evelyne folded her arms. "For what?"

Azrael exhaled, glancing toward the shadows flickering along the corridor. His voice was low when he said, "If the spirit spoke the truth, then you and I may both be pawns in something far greater than we realized."

Evelyne's breath caught.

Azrael's golden gaze met hers once more.

"And if that's the case," he said, voice sharp as steel, "then we are no longer the only ones making the rules."