THE WOLF KING’S BRIDE

CHAPTER THREE: THE WHISPERING WALLS

Elara POV

I couldn't sleep, not after what I had seen in that mirror. Every time I dared to close my eyes, I saw her silver eyes staring at me through the bleeding glass, and I heard her voice that melodic, haunting song that refused to fade.

It felt as though the castle itself was exhaling, a slow, rhythmic breath that vibrated through the stones of my chambers. I paced the length of the Queen’s Wing, my bare feet silent on the cold marble, until the candles burned down to stubs of melted wax.

By dawn, the castle stirred to life with an unsettling energy. Footsteps and low murmurs echoed down the long corridors, sounding like secrets being traded in the dark. I wrapped a heavy velvet cloak around my shoulders to ward off the unnatural chill and stepped into the hall. The air was visible in the cold, curling like smoke before my face.

"Does it always do that?" I whispered, my voice trembling as I stared at the walls.

Liora appeared from around a corner, carrying a silver tray of tea. Her face was ashen, her eyes darting nervously toward the shadows.

"Do what, my lady?"

"Breathe," I said, pointing to the stone. "The walls... they sound like they're breathing."

Liora’s face tightened, and she set the tray down with hands that shook so violently the porcelain rattled.

"The castle remembers, my lady. It always has. It listens, too, so I beg of you choose your words carefully." Her warning hung in the air, heavy and thick.

Before I could press her for more, Kael’s voice cut through the silence.

"Elara, come with me."

He stood at the end of the hall, dressed entirely in black. His dark hair caught the flicker of the blue torchlight, and though his expression was as calm as a frozen lake, his silver eyes were shadowed with an exhaustion that mirrored my own.

I followed him in silence, our footsteps creating a hollow rhythm against the marble.

"Where are we going?" I asked, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice.

"To the garden," he said without looking back. "You should see it. It belonged to her."

Her. The name was never spoken, but it cut through the air like a knife. The first queen. Seraphina.

"The Silver Garden," Kael continued as we pushed through a pair of heavy iron doors. "Nothing grows there except what she planted. Every petal remembers her touch."

When we stepped outside, the air hit me cold, sharp, and smelling of ancient frost.

The garden stretched out like a dream caught in starlight. Flowers shimmered like diamonds, and silver vines curled around black stones like frozen snakes. A faint mist rose from the ground, swirling around my ankles. It was beautiful, but it was the beauty of a tomb.

"She built this?" I breathed, reaching out to touch a shimmering petal.

"Yes," Kael said softly. "And when she died, the garden mourned her. Everything turned to silver overnight."

"Is that why you brought me here?" I asked, turning to him. "To see her ghost? To remind me that I am just a shadow in her house?"

He turned to me then, a faint, sad smile touching his lips. "I brought you here because the castle wants you to see it. It has chosen you, Elara, whether I agree with that choice or not." There was a raw, human pain in his voice that made my heart ache for a man I was supposed to fear.

"Kael," I stepped closer, my hand reaching for his arm. "What aren't you telling me? Why did the mirror bleed? Why did she call me her queen?"

Before he could answer, a low hum rose through the air a soft, melodic sigh. The central lake of the garden began to ripple, moonlight breaking across its surface in trembling waves. I leaned over the dark water, my reflection staring back, pale and tired.

Then, she appeared.

Her face bloomed over mine in the water those same silver eyes, her lips curved in a knowing, cruel smile. I gasped and stumbled back, my heart pounding against my ribs. "Did you see that?"

Kael’s hand caught my wrist, his grip iron. "See what?"

"The reflection," I whispered. "It changed. She was there, Kael. Right there in the water, looking at me."

He looked down at the lake, his expression hardening. "You saw nothing but your own fear, Elara."

"No," I shook my head. "She was smiling at me. She was laughing."

The reflection rippled again, and this time, the voice wasn't in my head. It was a faint, sharp sound, like glass breaking: "You took my place."

I froze, the words sinking into my blood like poison. Kael pulled me back roughly, his face turning a ghostly pale. "Enough!" he snapped. "Don't look at it again!"

"Kael, she spoke to me”

"I said enough!" His voice cracked through the garden like thunder, sending a flock of crows scattering from the silver trees. His chest heaved as he dragged a hand through his hair, his silver eyes wild.

The silence that followed was thin and fragile. "Who was she really?" I asked softly. "Tell me the truth, Kael. No more riddles."

He stared at me for a long, agonizing moment. "She was my wife," he said quietly. "And she should have been my only one."

The words cut deeper than I expected. I felt a strange pang of sadness not for her, but for the man standing before me who was clearly haunted by a love that refused to die.

"The castle does not forget," he said, turning away. "And neither does she."

"My lord," Liora’s voice called from the archway, her tone trembling. "The council waits for you."

Kael nodded without looking at me. "Return to your chambers, Elara. Do not wander tonight. The air is... restless."

When he left, the garden felt emptier and colder than before. I stared back at the lake one last time. She was still there, faint but visible, her smile softer now, almost pitying. "Why me?" I whispered to the water. But she didn't answer.

Back inside, the corridors felt narrower, the whispers louder. Portraits seemed to follow me with their painted eyes as I hurried toward the Queen’s Wing. But when I reached my doors, they were already open.

A woman I had never seen stood by the fire. She was tall, wrapped in dark blue velvet, with hair as white as frost. Her face was ageless and beautiful in an unsettling, sharp way.

"You must be the new queen," she said, her voice as smooth as silk.

"Yes," I answered cautiously. "And you are?"

"Lady Merith," she said with a slight, mocking bow. "Advisor to His Majesty and keeper of the archives."

"The archives?" I repeated. "You mean the history of this place?"

Her smile was faint but sharp. "History, secrets, curses... it's all the same when it’s written in blood." The fire behind her flared, sending a shower of white sparks into the air.

"Tell me something, Lady Merith," I said, moving closer. "Do you believe in ghosts?"

Her eyes darkened. "In Moonspire, my queen, we don't call them ghosts. We call them memories. And memories here are very much alive."

She walked past me, her perfume heavy with the scent of lilies and rot. As she passed the mirrors, the glass flickered. I saw her reflection, and beside it, the other woman’s face appeared once more, smiling faintly. Her lips moved to form a single word that made my blood run cold.

"Soon."

The fire flared bright white, the mirrors shook violently in their frames, and I blinked. When I looked back, Lady Merith was gone. She had vanished as if she had never been there at all.

Only the whispering walls remained, calling my name over and over a soft, insistent promise of a future I was terrified to meet.