Chapter 3: Whispers Of The Past

Evelyn sat motionless on the edge of the massive bed, her hands resting in her lap. The room was dimly lit by the candelabra near the fireplace, casting flickering shadows on the stone walls. Outside, the wind howled, rattling the windows as if the night itself wanted to warn her.

She wasn't supposed to be here. Not in Damien's castle. Not in his world.

The memory of the forest was still fresh, Ronan fighting to protect her, the hunger burning through her veins, and then… darkness. When she woke up, Ronan was gone, and Damien was standing over her.

His words from earlier still echoed in her head.

"Ronan isn't who you think he is."

Evelyn didn't want to believe it. But doubt had already begun to crawl under her skin, whispering questions she wasn't ready to ask.

Damien's deep voice broke the silence.

"You should go back to sleep."

She looked up sharply. Damien leaned against the doorway, watching her with an unreadable expression. He had been by her bedside the entire night silently watching her, no footsteps, no shift in the air. It was as if he had never been there, lurking just beyond her sight.

Evelyn forced herself to stay still. Where is Ronan? She asked again.

Damien sighed, stepping inside. Still concerned about him, I see.

She said nothing.

You should be more concerned about yourself. He studied her, his gaze sharp, searching. Or are you finally starting to realize the truth?

She swallowed but didn't speak.

Damien exhaled slowly. Ronan has always been good at playing the hero. Telling you exactly what you want to hear. Making you trust him. He paused, his voice quieter. But trust is a dangerous thing, Evelyn.

Something in his tone made her skin itch. It wasn't a threat. It was something worse..pity.

Her throat tightened. You're lying.

A ghost of a smile crossed his lips. Am I?

She didn't answer. She couldn't, because what if he wasn't?

Damien turned away, walking toward the fireplace. The flames cast a golden glow over him, making his dark features even sharper. "The truth has a way of unraveling on its own, little one. No matter how desperately you try to hold onto the lie."

Evelyn clenched her hands in her lap. If you're so sure I've been lied to, then tell me the truth.

Damien chuckled softly, shaking his head. Not yet.

Her heart skipped. Not yet?

That meant there was a truth. Something real. Something awful.

She didn't know why, but a cold dread settled in her chest. Whatever he wasn't telling her… it wasn't just about Ronan.

It was about her.

 A Game of Shadows

Evelyn barely touched her food at dinner. The grand hall was unusually silent, the long dining table almost laughable in its emptiness. Damien sat at the far end, swirling a glass of deep red liquid—blood, no doubt while she picked at the untouched plate in front of her.

She wasn't hungry, she was thinking.

And Damien knew it."You're awfully quiet," he mused.

She kept her eyes on the flickering candlelight. I have nothing to say to you.

That's not true. He took a slow sip from his glass. "You're screaming inside."

Her grip on the silverware tightened.

Damien set his glass down. Would you like to hear a story?

She said nothing.

Once, there was a girl who thought she understood the world. She thought she knew who to trust, who to love, and who to fear. But one day, she learned something that shattered everything.

Evelyn felt like her soul was about to leave her body, but she forced herself not to react.

Damien leaned back in his chair, watching her. Would you like to know what she learned?

She met his gaze, refusing to look away. I don't play your games, Damien.

His smirk was slow, calculating. Oh, but you do.

The way he said it made her stomach twist.

Because deep down, she knew whatever game they were playing, she had been a part of it long before she realized.

 The Note

That night, Evelyn couldn't sleep. The castle felt alive not with voices, but with something else. A presence. A pulse. She could feel it in the walls, in the floor beneath her bare feet as she paced.

And then… a sound. A soft rustle outside her door.

She froze.

Slowly, she approached, pressing her ear against the wood. Silence. But then….

A faint scratching, like paper against stone.

Heart hammering, she eased the door open.

The hallway was empty. But on the ground, just beyond the threshold, was a single folded parchment.

She hesitated. Then, cautiously, she picked it up and unfolded it.

The words were written in hurried ink, the handwriting unfamiliar.

"He's lying to you. The truth will destroy you. Meet me in the east tower at midnight."

Evelyn's pulse pounded.

No name. No explanation. But she already knew.

This was about Ronan.

She gripped the note tightly.

It could be a trap. It probably was.

But if there was even the slightest chance that someone knew what Damien was hiding… she had to take it.

She had to know.

Even if the truth was something she wasn't ready to face.

 ….. Continue…