Whispers In the Dark

The silence in the room had become an entity of its own. Thick, suffocating, alive. It slithered along the walls, curling into corners like a living thing, and the golden glow of the lanterns flickered helplessly, unable to drive it back. Shadows stretched long and thin, as if watching. I sat in the center of it all, A queen on a throne made not of gold, but of dread, clutching a journal that no longer obeyed me.

The words had changed.

Twisted.

As if some unseen hand had crawled inside my mind, cracked open memories I hadn't yet dared to remember, and spilled them onto the pages like ink and blood. Warnings. Names. Whispers of betrayal. Everything I feared and everything I didn't yet understand.

I had barely begun to process it when a knock shattered the stillness like glass.

Not the soft, polite tap of Sophie's careful knuckles. This knock was firm. Heavy. The sound of someone who didn't wait for permission.

"My lady!" Sophie's voice called from the other side, breathless. "He won't leave... He says he must speak with you."

Before I could answer, the door creaked open.

Sophie stumbled back as a figure stepped inside, swallowed by shadow and night. He was tall, cloaked in a long, dark hooded cape that seemed to drink in the light. His face was hidden beneath the hood, only the barest glint of a sharp jawline and eyes like smoldering coals visible from beneath the shadowed veil. I could feel his eyes on me. Intense, burning, watching.

A chill wrapped around my spine. The air had shifted, and my instincts screamed that this was no ordinary visit.

I rose, spine stiff, chin high, every muscle taut with the instincts of danger.

"Lady Katerina," he said.

His voice was a thing of contradiction. Smooth, but edged. Dark velvet over steel. A whisper carved from obsidian.

"I don't recall inviting guests tonight," I replied coldly, folding my arms across my chest.

"No," he said simply. "But I came anyway."

The audacity.

Sophie looked at me, her eyes wide, searching for instruction. She stood near the threshold, frozen, torn between her duty to protect me and the fear crawling up her spine. Her voice was barely a whisper. "My lady, should I—?"

"You may leave," I said firmly, never taking my eyes off the man. "Wait outside the door."

She hesitated but she obeyed before bowing and slipping out. Her footsteps faded into silence, the click of the closing door echoing behind her.

Who are you?" I asked, my tone sharp enough to cut.

The hooded man took a step forward, the shadows clinging to him like loyal dogs. He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he pulled back his hood just enough to reveal a glimpse of his face. Smooth, pale skin, a sharp jaw, lips curled in a knowing smirk. But his eyes… he kept them hidden beneath the edge of the hood. but I felt his gaze. It pierced through me, heavy and ancient, like he'd seen the worst parts of me and hadn't flinched.

"What do you want?" I asked, my voice sharp. "And don't waste my time."

"Manners, Lady Katerina," he murmured, his voice like silk dipped in poison, smooth and dangerous. "I just saved your life. Again."

Again?

My body tensed, but I schooled my features. "You'll have to be more specific. I've had many would be saviors."

He tilted his head slightly. "You've changed."

"People change."

His laugh was soft, bitter. Almost... fond?

"You're colder now. Sharper. It suits you."

"I've learned my lesson."

"Good." He stepped forward once. I didn't move. "Then perhaps you're ready to hear the truth."

I didn't speak. He took my silence as permission.

"There is a curse," he said. "Woven into your soul. Into your blood. Into the very name you carry."

My eyes narrowed. "What kind of curse?"

"One that ensures you die before your time. Again and again. Betrayed. Alone. Powerless."

"You're speaking in riddles," I snapped. "Say what you came here to say."

He tilted his head slightly, amused. "You always were impatient.

I stared. "You expect me to believe all that?"

"I don't care what you believe." His voice was calm, unbothered. "But the signs are already around you. The journal that rewrites itself. The visions. The shadows of yourself haunting your steps. Do you think those are just nightmares?"

I wanted to say yes. I wanted to scream it. But deep down, I already knew.

He took another step, slow and deliberate.

"You've stepped back into the game," he said. "But the rules have changed. There are new players on the board. And old enemies wearing fresh masks. You won't recognize all of them until it's too late."

"And you?" I asked. "Are you friend or foe?"

He was silent for a long moment. Then:

"I'm whatever you need me to be."

Cryptic bastard.

"I don't trust people who hide their faces," I muttered.

"Good. Never do that."

He moved to the window, parting the velvet curtain with gloved fingers. Outside, the world lay still under the cloak of night, but it felt like something was watching us from the trees.

"Don't trust anyone. Not even Sophie."

My jaw tightened. "Sophie?"

"She's loyal... for now. But everyone breaks. Or betrays. You can play your cards right by making her an ally. It's not too late."

I hated him for planting that doubt. But it took root anyway.

"You've been given a second chance," he said, turning back to me. "Don't waste it. Use it to take back everything they stole from you. But you must be smart. Start by removing Kael."

My eyes widened slightly. "You know about Kael?"

"I know everything that happened. And everything that will happen... if you don't stop it."

I stepped toward him. "Why help me? What do you want from me?"

There was a pause.

"You'll find out soon enough."

"Not good enough." I shot back

He looked at me fully, directly, like a storm looking into the eye of another.

"You want answers? Start with the masquerade ball. Five nights from now. That's where your revenge begins."

He turned toward the door.

"You won't always see me," he said. "But I'll be there. Watching. Waiting. Guiding when you need it most. Don't search for me. Just listen... when the time comes."

"Wait," I said suddenly. My voice was quieter now, raw. "Who are you?"

He didn't turn. He didn't need to.

"You already know."

"What do you gain from helping me?" I questioned carefully

He stepped closer, so close I could smell the faint scent of ash and something familiar, something wild. "I don't want your gratitude, Katerina. I want your survival. You'll understand why in time."

"That's not an answer."

"No," he said. "But it's the only one I'll give you for now."

He turned, his cloak swirling around him as if guided by unseen winds, and strode to the door and then he was gone. The door clicked shut, and the shadows folded in behind him like they'd missed their master.

The room felt colder. Bigger. Emptier.

I looked down at the journal in my hand. The ink shimmered on the page like fresh blood.

Masquerade. Five days. The game begins.

I let out a slow breath, shaky but steadying.

So this was it. The first move in a game I didn't remember agreeing to play.

Fine. Let them come. Let them scheme and whisper and smile with knives behind their backs.

Katerina Valtara had died once.

She wasn't going to die again.

No. This time, she would rise.

And she would burn them all to ash.