Whispers Of Doom
1484 Words
The chamber of black stone pulsed with a faint red glow, the air thick with sulfur and whispers. Mrs. Catherine, dressed in her crimson mantle, sat upon the obsidian throne as the council of demons gathered in a wide circle around her. Their faces were grim, some eager, others restless. Yet one chair remained empty.
“Where is Lucas?” Catherine’s sharp voice cut through the murmurs.
The councilors exchanged uncertain glances. One of them finally bowed his head.
“We searched, my lady. He is nowhere to be found in the realm. It is as though he vanished.”
Catherine’s eyes narrowed. “Vanished?” Her voice dripped with venom. “Demons do not simply vanish. Tell me—did he betray us, or was he taken?”
No one dared to answer, but as the silence thickened, Desire stood at the far end of the circle, his gaze lowered. His lips curled faintly, betraying the guilt that flickered across his face. Catherine’s eyes lingered on him, but she shifted back to the council.
“Enough of this,” she snapped. “We waste time. Our raids upon the human cities have yielded nothing but useless infants. Not one of them bore the mark of a Tri-born. Not one!”
The chamber erupted with low growls and hisses, demons muttering in frustration. A horned elder leaned forward.
“My queen, perhaps… perhaps the prophecy deceives us. What if the Tri-born has not yet been born?”
Another voice countered, gruff and doubtful.
“Or worse—what if the Tri-born is already grown? Hidden among them, beyond our reach.”
The room stilled. The words hung like a blade in the air. Catherine’s crimson eyes gleamed, cold and calculating.
“If the Tri-born lives, grown and breathing, then the humans and their cursed academies have sheltered it from us.” She rose slowly, her presence pressing down on the room like iron. “We will tear apart their sanctuaries if we must. No Tri-born escapes me.”
When the council was dismissed, the demons filed out in silence, but Catherine’s voice called one name.
“Desire. Stay.”
He turned, his smirk faint but his eyes cautious. Catherine descended the throne, her footsteps echoing against the black marble. She stood close, her gaze piercing.
“You and Lucas despised each other. His disappearance leaves a stench I cannot ignore. Tell me, Desire…” Her lips curled into a dangerous smile. “…did you have a hand in this?”
Desire tilted his head, eyes gleaming with amusement. “My lady, if I wanted Lucas gone, you would have found his ashes at your feet. I do not waste time with riddles.”
Catherine studied him for a long, tense moment. Then, with a wave of her hand, she dismissed him.
“Go then, but know this, Desire—if I find your shadow where it should not be, not even your silver tongue will save you.”
Desire bowed, his smirk widening just enough to be insolent.
“Then let us pray, my queen, that my tongue never fails me.”
********
The garden of Freedom College shimmered under the morning light, its paths alive with chatter and the scent of fresh blossoms. Jane walked between Hope and Rebecca, her silver-gray hair glinting as the sun caught it. Wherever she went, eyes followed—some in admiration, others in envy.
On a nearby bench, Ephraim sat quietly, watching. His expression was calm but searching, as though the world around him was both foreign and familiar.
Susan noticed him first. Her heart fluttered, and with a small breath, she gathered courage.
“Hi,” she said softly, stepping closer. “You’re new here, right? What’s your name?”
Ephraim didn’t move. His gaze seemed far away, fixed on something unseen. At last, he looked at her—briefly, indifferently—and then his eyes slid past her. Toward Jane.
Susan’s hopeful smile wavered. “I… just thought I’d say hello.”
But Ephraim was already on his feet, his attention stolen the moment he saw Jane and her sisters approaching.
From the corner of the garden, Susan’s friends watched with sharp eyes. As Ephraim walked past her without a word, they hurried to her side, whispering bitterly.
“See? That Jane again.”
“She acts like she’s better than everyone.”
“Always taking the spotlight… even without trying.”
Susan’s lips tightened, jealousy pricking her chest. She didn’t answer, but her silence was enough.
Meanwhile, Ephraim caught up with Jane and her sisters.
Rebecca noticed first. “Oh, it’s you,” she said kindly. “How are you settling in?”
Hope offered a small smile. “It must be overwhelming. Are you coping?”
Ephraim gave them both a polite nod, though his eyes lingered only on Jane. “I’m managing. Hello, Jane.”
Jane didn’t so much as glance at him. Her face was calm, distant, though her heart thudded harder at the sound of his voice.
Unbothered, Ephraim teased lightly, “This school feels like a maze. I hear you know it best.”
Rebecca chuckled. “She doesn’t talk much to strangers.”
Ephraim grinned, amused. “That’s fine. I don’t mind being ignored. Dr. Collins thought it strange I had no name, so he gave me one—Ephraim. If you must ignore me, at least ignore me properly.”
Hope laughed quietly at his boldness. Jane, however, kept walking, her silence colder than words. And yet… something in her chest stirred. She hated that she didn’t dislike his presence.
By the time they reached the training grounds, the noise of students filled the air. A circle had formed, and in the middle stood Jack, a frail young werewolf. He was backed against the wall of bodies, his fists trembling.
“Shift already!” one of the older boys jeered. “Or are you just a mutt pretending to be wolf?”
“I—I don’t want to fight,” Jack stammered.
The bully shoved him harder. “Then stop pretending you belong here!”
Jane’s eyes narrowed. She stepped forward, her voice cold and sharp.
“Pick on someone who can actually fight.”
The bullies froze. Whispers ran through the crowd like sparks. No one wanted to accept that challenge—not against Jane.
She crossed her arms. “Well? Didn’t you want a fight?”
Silence. The older boys lowered their eyes, fear creeping across their faces.
Then Ephraim’s voice rose above the hush, steady and calm.
“I’ll fight you.”
The entire training ground rippled with gasps. Students turned, wide-eyed. A boy barely known, daring to challenge Jane? Murmurs filled the air.
“Is he crazy?”
“He just got here.”
“Jane will tear him apart.”
Jane turned sharply, frowning. “You?”
Ephraim shrugged with a faint smile. “Why not? They won’t fight you. And I…” His grin widened. “…I want to see what makes you so feared.”
Jane’s glare didn’t waver. “You’ll regret it.”
“Maybe,” Ephraim said easily. “But at least I’ll regret something worth seeing.”
The students murmured louder, their curiosity buzzing like a storm.
Then Ephraim reached for his shirt and pulled it over his head. A collective gasp swept through the circle. His lean, powerful body was cut with muscle, every line sculpted, commanding admiration and envy alike. Girls whispered to one another, some openly staring.
Even Jane, despite herself, felt her eyes linger longer than they should.
And then the murmurs fell into silence. As Ephraim turned to face her, light revealed a mark on his back—etched like flame and moon woven into blood.
The mark of the Tri-born.
Whispers erupted in the crowd.
“Impossible!”
“There’s only supposed to be one.”
“He… he’s a Tri-born.”
Jane’s breath caught. Her heart thundered. Fate had just revealed its cruelest twist.
Ephraim stood tall in the circle, unaware of the storm that mark had unleashed.
- Writer
