The Voice That Hunger
1151 Words
Chapter 5: The Voices That Hunger
Amara didn’t pull her hand away.
Even when she should have.
Even when every part of her screamed that staying close to Lucien was just as dangerous as the voices surrounding them.
His grip on her wrist wasn’t tight anymore—just enough to keep her grounded. To keep the whispers from swallowing her whole.
For a moment, the world steadied.
The cold air.
The endless shelves.
The sealed books watching in silence.
All of it faded into the background.
All she could feel… was him.
“You’re shaking,” Lucien said quietly.
Amara swallowed. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
His thumb brushed lightly against her wrist.
The contact sent a strange warmth through her body—unexpected, unsettling… but not unpleasant.
Her breath hitched.
And she hated that he noticed.
“You don’t have to pretend,” he added, his voice lower now.
“I’m not pretending,” she said quickly, pulling her hand back this time.
The moment she broke contact—
The whispers rushed in.
“Come back…”
“Don’t leave us…”
“You belong here…”
Amara flinched, pressing her hands over her ears. “No—stop—”
“They’re getting stronger,” Lucien said.
His voice was calm, but there was tension beneath it now.
“Why?” she demanded, her voice unsteady. “Why me?”
The whispers twisted around her, sharper this time. Hungrier.
“Because you can hear…”
“Because you remember…”
Her body froze.
“What did they just say?” she whispered.
Lucien’s expression shifted.
“You heard that clearly.”
Amara’s heart pounded. “They said I remember. What does that mean?”
He didn’t answer.
Instead, he looked past her—toward the shelves.
Like he was listening to something deeper than the voices.
“That’s not possible,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ve never been here before.”
The silence that followed was wrong.
Too long.
Too heavy.
And then—
“You have,” Lucien said.
The words hit harder than the whispers.
Amara stared at him. “No.”
“Yes.”
“No,” she repeated, stepping back. “That’s not true.”
“You just don’t remember it.”
Her pulse raced.
“That doesn’t make sense. I would know.”
“Would you?” he asked softly.
The question unsettled her more than anything else.
Because for a split second—
She wasn’t sure.
The ring on her finger burned again.
Brighter.
Stronger.
And before she could react—
A memory forced its way in.
---
A smaller hand.
Holding onto someone tightly.
A woman’s voice, soft but urgent.
“Don’t let go, Amara.”
The same shelves.
The same darkness.
The same door.
And then—
Hands pulling her away.
A scream.
Not hers.
Her mother’s.
---
Amara gasped, stumbling backward.
Her chest heaved as the vision snapped away.
“No…” she whispered. “No, that’s not real…”
But it felt real.
Too real.
She looked at Lucien, her eyes wide with fear.
“I’ve been here,” she said.
It wasn’t a question.
Lucien didn’t deny it.
“That was your mother,” he said.
The words shattered something inside her.
“She brought you here.”
Amara shook her head violently. “Why would she do that?”
“To protect you.”
“From what?”
His silence was answer enough.
Her stomach dropped.
“No,” she breathed. “No, you’re lying.”
“I don’t lie about things like this.”
“Then tell me the truth!” she snapped, her voice breaking. “All of it!”
The whispers surged again.
Louder.
Angrier.
“She was left…”
“She didn’t escape…”
“She’s still here…”
Amara froze.
Her lips trembled.
“…what did they mean?”
Lucien’s jaw tightened.
“Don’t listen to them.”
“Tell me!”
The desperation in her voice echoed through the darkness.
For a moment, he looked like he might refuse.
Then—
“They’re not lying,” he said quietly.
Her heart stopped.
“What?”
“Your mother…” he hesitated.
And that hesitation said everything.
Amara’s vision blurred. “No.”
“She didn’t make it out.”
“No!” she shouted, backing away. “You’re wrong! She died years ago!”
“That’s what you were told.”
The truth hit like a blade.
Cold.
Sharp.
Unforgiving.
“She’s here,” Lucien finished.
Amara’s knees nearly gave out.
The room spun.
The shelves.
The shadows.
The books.
All of it closing in around her.
“That’s not possible,” she whispered.
But deep down—
She knew.
The memory.
The voice.
The feeling.
It all pointed to one thing.
Her mother wasn’t gone.
She was trapped.
Somewhere in this place.
The whispers softened.
Almost gentle now.
“Find her…”
“She’s waiting…”
Tears burned in Amara’s eyes.
“I have to find her,” she said.
Lucien stepped forward immediately. “No.”
She looked at him, stunned. “What do you mean no?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“I don’t care!” she snapped. “She’s my mother!”
“And this place will destroy you before you reach her.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“You should.”
Their eyes locked.
Tension crackled between them.
Fear.
Anger.
Something deeper.
“You said I belonged here,” Amara said, her voice shaking. “Maybe this is why.”
Lucien’s expression darkened.
“That’s exactly why you shouldn’t go deeper.”
“Or maybe it’s exactly why I should.”
Silence.
A dangerous silence.
Then—
“You won’t survive it,” he said.
Amara stepped closer to him.
Close enough to feel his breath.
Close enough to see the conflict in his eyes.
“Then help me,” she said softly.
His jaw clenched.
“Amara—”
“Help me,” she repeated.
Her voice broke slightly.
Not weak.
Just real.
For a moment—
He almost gave in.
She could see it.
Feel it.
That hesitation.
That pull between stopping her… and following her.
Just like she was pulled toward him.
“You don’t understand what you’re asking,” he said.
“Then make me understand.”
The air between them grew heavier.
Closer.
Charged with something neither of them could ignore anymore.
The whispers faded into the background.
Waiting.
Watching.
As Lucien slowly reached up—
And brushed a strand of hair away from her face.
The touch was soft.
Unexpected.
Dangerous.
Amara’s breath caught.
“You’re going to regret this,” he murmured.
Her heart raced.
“Probably.”
A pause.
A moment.
Then—
“Show me the way,” she said.
And this time—
Lucien didn’t say no.
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD