The Cliff of Echoes
1107 Words
The fog thickened around Mistwood Hills that evening, swallowing the sky whole. The cottage lights flickered, struggling against the growing darkness, and from her window, Alina stared at the valley below—silent, still, unsettling.
Her heart hadn’t stopped racing all afternoon.
Riaan had stepped out for a business call, his tone clipped and irritated—something about people not understanding boundaries. He had kissed her forehead before leaving, telling her to rest, to stay inside, to not wander.
And she meant to.
She really did.
Until the whisper came.
Soft. Barely there. Like the echo of a name.
Alina…
Her breath froze.
She spun around.
Nothing.
Just the crackling fire, the empty sofa, the haunting quiet.
But the whisper pulled again—
like a thread cinching tight around her chest.
She stepped outside.
The mist swallowed her instantly, cold and damp against her skin. Yet something about it felt familiar—like stepping into a memory she did not remember living.
The wind shifted suddenly, carrying with it the faintest scent—like rain on old stone, like iron, like… heartbreak.
Her feet moved on their own.
Down the garden path.
Across the clearing.
Toward the cliffside viewpoint Riaan told her never to visit alone.
The whisper grew clearer.
Stop…
Don’t…
Go back…
But her body didn’t listen.
Her breath hitched as she reached the cliff edge. The valley stretched endlessly below, darkness pooling like ink between the mountains. The railing was old, rusted, half-broken.
Something—
or someone—
stood just beyond the fog.
A silhouette.
Broad-shouldered.
Still.
Watching her.
Her pulse stuttered.
“Riaan?” she whispered.
The silhouette didn’t move.
A strange ache bloomed in her chest. Not fear. Not quite recognition. Something deeper. Older.
She stepped closer.
The mist shifted—
And the ground beneath her crumbled.
Alina gasped—
Her foot slipped—
The cliff edge gave way—
She fell.
The world tilted violently.
Wind roared in her ears.
Her scream tore from her throat—
Then cut off—
As something caught her mid-air.
Not arms.
Not hands.
Something colder.
Something stronger.
Like invisible force pulling her upward.
She hung suspended above the abyss.
Weightless.
Frozen.
Unable to breathe.
Then she saw him.
A face formed in the mist—
Sharp jawline, shadowed cheekbones, dark eyes frozen in shock.
A face she had never seen—
Yet her heart lurched as if she had loved it before.
His lips parted.
You…
The wind carried the word to her.
Her vision blurred—
Images flickered behind her eyelids—
A temple bell…
A bloodstained floor…
Hands reaching for her through smoke…
A name drowned beneath centuries of silence…
Her chest constricted painfully.
“Who—who are you?” she choked out.
The mist-face flickered, shifting like a broken reflection.
His voice—cold, hollow, echoing—
Ar…jun…
The name hit her like thunder.
Her heart skidded.
Her pulse exploded.
Arjun.
She knew that name.
She shouldn’t know it.
But she did.
Like it had once been whispered against her skin…
Like it had once been carved into her bones.
Suddenly, the force holding her vanished—
And she dropped—
Only to be caught again.
This time gentler.
Firmer.
Guiding her back onto solid ground.
Her knees buckled.
Her breath heaved.
She clutched the railing.
The mist swirled violently, forming the silhouette again—closer this time, almost stepping out of the fog.
His voice, broken, desperate—
I… waited…
Her lips trembled. “Why—why do you feel familiar?”
The face froze.
Then twisted—
Pain.
Regret.
Grief older than time.
Before he could speak—
Before she could move—
A sudden hand grabbed her shoulder.
Warm.
Real.
Human.
“ALINA!”
Riaan.
He yanked her back from the cliff so hard she stumbled into his chest. His arms wrapped around her instantly, fiercely, his breath ragged with fear and fury.
“What the hell were you doing here alone?” he demanded, voice raw. “I told you this place isn’t safe—Alina, look at me!”
She did.
Big mistake.
His eyes—dark, intense, terrified—burned into her with a kind of possession that made her knees weaken.
“You could have died,” he growled, pulling her even closer. “Do you understand what that would do to me?”
Her heart raced—
But not entirely because of him.
Her gaze flicked over Riaan’s shoulder—
toward the mist.
The silhouette was still there.
Watching.
Waiting.
But now—
As Riaan held her—
The face shifted.
The ghost—
Arjun—
Looked furious.
Not at her.
At Riaan.
The air crackled.
The wind howled.
The mist darkened.
Riaan stiffened, pulling her behind him instinctively. “Get back,” he ordered, unaware of what he was protecting her from. “Whatever’s out there—I won’t let it touch you.”
The silhouette flickered—
Rage twisting its outline—
And for the briefest moment
Alina saw it:
Arjun’s expression—
raw, shattered, aching—
like a man betrayed.
Her breath caught.
“Riaan…” she whispered, voice shaking.
“That… wasn’t a shadow.”
He froze.
The wind died.
The mist hissed.
Before Riaan could turn—
Before Alina could explain—
A single whisper cut through the air.
Not hers.
Not the wind.
His.
Alina… don’t trust him.
The ground trembled.
The trees bent.
The fog surged upward like a wave.
Riaan pulled her into his arms—
shielding her—
holding her as if his life depended on it.
“Stay behind me,” he commanded.
But Alina couldn’t move.
Between the two men—
the one holding her
and the one haunting her—
her heart cracked open with a pain she didn’t understand.
The mist swirled violently—
then vanished—
taking Arjun with it.
The valley fell silent.
Riaan exhaled shakily, pressing his forehead to hers. “You’re staying close to me tonight,” he whispered, voice still trembling. “I don’t care what you saw or heard. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
Alina swallowed hard.
Her voice barely came out.
“Riaan… he said not to trust you.”
Riaan’s body went still—
too still.
His hands tightened around her waist.
His voice dropped.
Soft.
Controlled.
Dangerous.
“And will you?”
She blinked. “Will I what?”
“Trust me,” he whispered, eyes darkening. “Or him.”
The question shattered the air between them.
The cliff wind howled again—
as though warning her
that whatever choice she made
would change everything.
- Writer
