Behind the door

The third voice

Chapter 18 – The Third Voice

The fire hissed low, the air thick with the weight of unsaid words. Elena’s hand hovered against Adrian’s, sparks running up her arm. His storm-gray eyes bore into hers, full of hunger and despair, as if a single breath could break the fragile line between them.

And then—

A sound split the room.

Not the creak of the house. Not the whisper of the book. Something sharper, colder. A voice, disembodied yet near, filling every corner of the study with a resonance that scraped across Elena’s bones.

“You cannot bind what is already claimed.”

The book slammed shut with a deafening c***k. The candle flames guttered and went black, plunging the room into darkness.

Elena gasped, stumbling back. Adrian’s hand shot out to steady her, but his body went rigid, his breath jagged.

“Who’s there?” she demanded, though her voice shook.

The answer came not in words but in presence. A ripple of air shuddered through the study, thick with cold, and the pressed rose on the desk blackened into ash before her eyes.

Adrian swore under his breath, his body shifting protectively in front of her. “Stay behind me.”

The shadows lengthened, converging into the shape of a man—or what might have once been one. Tall, indistinct, its features blurred, its eyes twin embers burning through the dark.

“You were warned, Adrian,” the figure said, its voice like a blade scraping stone. “The bloodline ends with her, or it ends with nothing. Do not forget your oath.”

Elena’s blood ran cold. The figure’s gaze shifted toward her, pinning her in place. “And you, child… you meddle with chains you cannot bear. The house listens. The book obeys. But I—” It leaned closer, its ember-eyes boring into hers. “I rule.”

The fire roared back to life without warning, casting the shadowed figure in stark relief. Adrian’s grip tightened painfully around Elena’s wrist. She felt the tremor in his hand.

“Get out,” Adrian snarled, his voice a low growl vibrating with something more than human. “She is not yours.”

The figure laughed softly, the sound hollow and endless. “Not yet.”

And then it was gone. The air stilled, the flames steadied, and the room returned—almost normal, almost safe.

Almost.

Elena’s chest heaved, her skin clammy with fear. “Adrian… what was that?”

His silence cut deeper than any answer. His storm-gray eyes, so usually composed, were wide with something she’d never seen before.

Terror.

---