Chapter 71
Chapter 71
Klaus POV
The cold sat heavy on the ridge, but it wasn’t the kind of cold that bit skin. It was deeper than that. Bone-deep. A weight pressed into the air that had nothing to do with wind and everything to do with the damn tears.
I watched the others from my post near the edge of the hollow. Firelight flickered low, painting their faces in shifting shades of orange and shadow. They looked exhausted, all of them. Even Elian, though he’d rather swallow glass than admit it.
But it wasn’t just exhaustion.
It was him.
The silver-eyed phantom that clung to Amelia like a brand.
I’d felt it from the start, though none of them knew that. The moment she’d first twitched toward that rift, the hum had slid under my skin too, faint, like a vibration only I could hear. And I hadn’t told a soul.
Because if I did, if they even suspected—
No. That wasn’t an option.
\---
Demian sat too close to her again. His hand wrapped over hers like he thought sheer force could keep her tethered. And maybe it could. For now. But Demian didn’t understand. He couldn’t.
What called to Amelia wasn’t just temptation. It was design.
And designs had architects.
I leaned my shoulder against the rock, gaze flicking to Elian where he sharpened his blade with methodical precision. Sparks danced, brief and bright, before dying in the dirt. He wasn’t sharpening out of need. He was listening. Always listening.
I wondered if he suspected.
I hoped he didn’t.
Because if he did, the whole fragile balance we’d been clinging to would shatter.
\---
Kira returned first from her perimeter sweep. Silent as always, but her eyes found mine in the dark like she knew I was already watching. She tilted her head once — all clear — then vanished into shadow again.
Corrin sprawled near the fire, muttering curses at his boots while he tried to scrape off the frost. His voice grated like sandpaper, too loud in the quiet, but comforting in its way. Corrin was the only one too blunt to pretend he didn’t feel the weight pressing down on us.
And Amelia—
She shifted, curling tighter into herself, Demian’s cloak half-draped around her shoulders. Her eyes were closed, but I doubted she slept.
None of us did, not really.
I dragged in a breath of cold air, sharp enough to burn. Focus.
The longer we stayed still, the closer it would find us. I knew that. I felt it in my bones.
Elian finally sheathed his blade and rose, his shadow stretching long across the fire. “We move at dawn.”
No one argued. Not even Corrin.
\---
I didn’t sleep. Couldn’t. I never did when the pull was this close.
Instead, I sat in the dark, ears tuned to every shift of the wind, every soft crack of branches overhead. The bond between Amelia and Demian pulsed faintly, visible to me even without trying. It glowed like a thread of heat between them, keeping her anchored.
I envied him, for that.
But envy was useless.
I closed my eyes. Let the hum rise.
It whispered in a language none of them could hear. Words that weren’t words. Promises dressed as inevitability. Come. Return. Belong.
And it didn’t just whisper to Amelia anymore.
It whispered to me.
\---
By morning, frost glazed the ridge. My boots crunched loud enough to make Corrin glare at me like I’d stomped on his grave. He muttered something about “bloody ice trying to kill us all” as he nearly slipped, and Aelira caught his elbow with an absent gesture before returning to tracing invisible runes on her thigh.
Elian led. He always did.
I stayed toward the back, eyes sweeping the horizon. Not because I didn’t trust Demian to guard Amelia — though that was debatable — but because someone had to watch the rest.
Kira moved ahead like smoke, blades already loose in her grip. Corrin stayed close enough to mutter at her, though she ignored him. Aelira’s lips moved soundlessly, runes sparking faint in the air before fading.
And Amelia—
She walked stiff. Too stiff. Like every step was an act of will. Demian hovered beside her, close enough to touch but not pressing.
Smart.
Because if he pressed too hard, she’d fight. And if she fought, she’d lose ground to him.
The hum spiked then, sharp enough to make me stagger.
I masked it as a slip on the frost, but Demian’s head still snapped back, eyes narrowing.
“Careful,” he muttered.
I grunted something vague, forcing my expression blank.
He didn’t look convinced.
\---
We climbed for hours. My lungs burned from the cold air, but the ache in my chest had nothing to do with breath.
Every step higher made the whisper stronger. Clearer.
This wasn’t random. I knew that now.
The tears weren’t opening by accident. They were opening here, in these mountains, in this order, because someone wanted them to.
And Amelia wasn’t just a victim.
She was the key.
\---
By the time Elian called for a stop, my nerves felt scraped raw.
We found shelter beneath a crag where the rock curled over like a broken jaw. Corrin immediately dropped his pack, groaning like his spine had cracked in half. Kira disappeared to scout again. Aelira folded to the ground, sketching runes in the dirt with frantic precision.
Amelia sat near the edge, her knees pulled tight, her gaze locked on the horizon.
Demian shadowed her, as always.
And I—
I stayed back. Watching. Waiting.
Because sooner or later, she’d hear the whisper again. Louder.
And when she did, I needed to be ready.
\---
It came faster than I expected.
One second, Amelia was still. The next, her body jerked like something had plucked a string inside her.
Demian’s hand shot out, grabbing her wrist before she could rise. “No.”
Her breath came fast, ragged. “You don’t hear it—”
“I don’t need to.” His grip tightened. “You’re not moving.”
I clenched my fists. The whisper slithered through me too, sharp and insistent. Come. Come. Come.
I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste blood, anchoring myself in the pain.
But Amelia’s face twisted. “It’s stronger here—Demian, I can’t—”
“You can.” His voice was steel. “Because I’m not letting go.”
Her gaze burned, torn between fury and desperation. And then it flicked past him—straight to me.
For one heartbeat, I swore she knew.
That she saw the way the whisper coiled under my skin too.
I looked away first.
\---
That night, we didn’t light a fire again. The air was too sharp, the silence too heavy.
I stood watch, pacing the perimeter, every step a battle against the call.
The silver-eyed man waited in the dark edges of my vision. Not real. Not yet. But close. Closer than I could risk admitting.
He wanted Amelia.
But sometimes… I wondered if he wanted me too.
\---
I didn’t sleep. I never do when the whisper is this loud.
Because in sleep, I’d see him.
And if I saw him, I wasn’t sure I’d come back.
\---
The others don’t know.
They can’t.
Because if they ever find out the truth—that I hear it too—
They’ll never trust me again.
And trust is the only weapon I have left.