Chapter 203
I wake in the dead of night to the sound of music, soft and distant, yet insistent enough that it pries me from sleep. My eyes flutter open, adjusting to the dim glow of the bioluminescent lanterns outside the window.
The melody is unfamiliar, unlike anything I have ever heard before—haunting and delicate, a tune that coils around my senses like a whispered lullaby. It isn’t a song from Ao, nor does it resemble any of the music I’ve heard in the Twilight or Abyss. There’s something unnatural about it, something that tugs at me in a way I can’t explain.
Wake is beside me, deep in sleep, his steady breathing completely undisturbed. That alone is strange. He’s always so keen, so alert. The faintest sound usually has him stirring, his instincts honed to perfection.
But now, he remains still, unbothered by the melody weaving through the water. I watch him for a long moment, waiting for his eyes to flicker open, for him to tense the way he always does when something is amiss. But he doesn’t move.
A shiver runs down my spine. Something is wrong.
I sit up slowly, my heart hammering. I tell myself to ignore it, to lay back down and push the strange melody from my mind, but I can’t. The music doesn’t allow it. It digs into me, an invisible thread pulling me toward it. There’s an urgency in it, a compulsion that wraps itself around my thoughts until the only thing that matters is finding the source.
I slip from the bed, moving as quietly as I can—not that it matters, since Wake doesn’t stir. I pause, glancing over my shoulder at him one last time, but he’s utterly still. My fingers brush his arm lightly, but he doesn’t react. I press my lips together and force myself to move away.
The cool water brushes against my bare arms as I scan the room, searching for the source. But nothing here is out of place. No instrument, no sign of where the sound is coming from. It’s as if it exists within the water itself, woven into the current.
A chill slithers down my spine.
I take a step toward the door, half-expecting the music to stop, but it only grows clearer, more defined. Without thinking, I open the door and step into the hallway. The music beckons me forward, weaving through the corridors, leading me deeper into the palace. My feet move of their own accord, my mind quiet. I don’t question why I’m following it. I don’t wonder why Wake hasn’t woken up, why my senses feel dull and my body light. There is only one thing I care about.
Find the music.
The corridors blur past me, my surroundings fading into insignificance. I have no sense of time, no concept of how far I’ve gone. My body moves without effort, gliding through the palace as if carried by something unseen. The melody twists and shifts, sometimes soft, sometimes sharp, always luring me deeper.
I should be afraid. I should feel the wrongness of it, but I don’t. I feel nothing at all.
It is only when the music comes to an abrupt stop that the trance shatters.
My breath catches in my throat, and the weight of reality crashes back down on me. My vision sharpens, my surroundings solidifying in an instant. The air suddenly feels colder, heavier, pressing in on me from all sides.
The stone garden.
The eerie statues loom in the darkness, their frozen expressions twisted in silent agony. Some have hands raised as if to shield themselves, others contorted in expressions of fear, horror, and pain. The stillness is suffocating, the silence pressing against me like a heavy weight. My pulse hammers as unease creeps up my spine, setting every nerve in my body on edge.
Why am I here? How did I get here?
A tremor runs through me as I take a step back, every instinct screaming at me to leave. This place is wrong in the daylight, but now, in the dead of night, it’s unbearable. I can feel something lurking just beyond my vision, something watching.
I turn back toward the hallway, my mind racing. I need to get back to my room. Back to Wake. Back to safety.
Then I hear it.
A whisper. Soft. Barely audible. Just behind me.
I spin around, my breath catching, but there is nothing there—only the statues, their frozen faces distorted in eternal suffering. My heartbeat thunders in my ears. My hands curl into fists as I take another step backward.
Something moves in the darkness.
A shadow shifts at the edge of my vision, emerging from between the statues. It moves too smoothly, too deliberately. My body tenses, every muscle locked in place as I try to make out its shape. But it’s too dark. The figure remains hidden in the gloom, just out of reach.
My instincts scream at me to run. My body, frozen in fear, refuses to obey.
I open my mouth to call out—to Wake, to anyone—but before I can make a sound, something hard and heavy crashes against the side of my head.
Pain explodes through my skull. Stars burst in my vision. The world tilts violently. My legs buckle, and the last thing I see before darkness swallows me whole is the twisted, frozen faces of the statues staring down at me.
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