The Woman’s Voice
Eryon returned to the hidden chamber beneath the academy, his steps cautious as he descended the worn stone staircase. The walls pulsed faintly with an eerie golden light, the chamber’s energy thrumming in time with his heartbeat. His chest still ached from the wound he’d sustained in the arena, and the weight of Misery’s words lingered heavily in his mind.
As he entered the chamber, the air thickened, and the faint whispers he had heard before returned, this time louder, more urgent.
“Why have you come back?” the woman’s voice echoed, her tone sharp but laced with something that felt like familiarity.
Eryon froze, his gaze darting around the room. The carvings on the walls seemed to shift, the images of wolves and vampires locked in battle flickering like shadows in firelight.
“I need answers,” he said, his voice steady despite the unease creeping over him.
The voice softened, almost sorrowful. “You seek what you already know.”
Eryon’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
The carvings began to glow brighter, and the images became clearer. Wolves, their forms powerful and majestic, stood against a horde of vampires. At the center of the scene was a figure—a wolf with glowing amber eyes, surrounded by a halo of light.
“This realm is not your home,” the voice continued. “But it will be your battlefield. Your strength is both a curse and a salvation.”
Eryon’s wolf stirred uneasily, its instincts sharpening as if it too sensed the weight of the voice’s words.
“How do I protect her?” Eryon asked suddenly, his thoughts turning to Lyra.
The voice hesitated. “Protect her from others. Protect her from yourself. But most of all, protect her from what is to come.”
The carvings flickered again, and Eryon’s attention was drawn to a new figure—a woman cloaked in darkness, her features obscured but her presence undeniable.
“She is coming for you,” the voice said, urgency lacing its tone. “You must be ready.”
“Who?” Eryon demanded, his pulse quickening.
The chamber shook violently, the walls trembling as if the entire room were alive. The woman’s voice grew louder, almost desperate. “Hurry, Eryon. You do not have much time!”
The light in the chamber flared, blinding him momentarily. When it faded, the carvings were still again, the voice silent.
Eryon stood there, his chest heaving as he processed what he’d seen and heard. Whoever the voice was warning him about, he knew one thing for certain: the danger was closer than he’d realized.
