Chapter 149 The Voices we Choose

Chapter 149 The Voices we Choose
Tessa's POV
The forest changed around us.
A moment earlier, we had been following Thomas toward the quarry with careful steps. Now familiar voices floated between the trees, each one carrying a different memory.
A mother calling her child.
A husband promising to come home.
A brother laughing over an old joke.
A father whispering a name that had been buried beneath years of grief.
The voices didn't overlap chaotically. Each one seemed to find the person it wanted.
Thomas stiffened beside me.
Samuel's face had gone pale.
Martha closed her eyes.
Across the path, Renwick suddenly stopped.
"That's my brother."
Caleb looked at him.
"Your brother is alive."
"I know."
Renwick swallowed.
"But that's his voice."
A warm laugh drifted from somewhere beyond the trees.
Renwick's expression tightened.
The Voice had learned more than names.
It had learned memories.
Dylan stepped into the centre of the group.
"Listen to me."
His voice carried through the trees with enough authority to reach everyone.
"You can hear them."
"You can remember them."
"You can even miss them."
He paused, allowing the words to settle.
"But remember where you are."
Thomas opened his eyes.
"I'm here."
Martha reached for his hand.
"So am I."
Samuel looked at Micah.
"You're here."
Micah squeezed his shoulder.
"Always."
One by one, people began grounding themselves in the people standing beside them.
The voices continued.
Their power weakened when nobody followed.

A woman's voice called softly from behind me.
"Tessa."
My heart tightened.
I knew that voice.
I knew the warmth hidden inside it.
I turned halfway before Dylan caught my hand.
"Don't."
I looked at him.
"It sounds like my mother."
"I know."
The voice came again.
"Tessa, sweetheart."
Pain moved through me.
For a heartbeat, I could see her standing beneath the trees, smiling exactly as I remembered.
Then I looked at Dylan.
He wasn't asking me to forget her.
He was reminding me that memories didn't need to become chains.
I closed my eyes.
"My mother would never ask me to leave my family behind."
The image disappeared.
The forest returned.
Dylan's hand remained wrapped around mine.
"That's the choice," he said quietly.
"Remember them without surrendering yourself."

A sharp cry suddenly came from behind us.
One of the villagers had stepped away from the group.
"My daughter!"
Martha moved toward her immediately.
The woman was staring into the trees, tears running down her face.
"She's there."
Hannah reached her before she could move farther.
"Tell me what you hear."
"She's asking me to come."
"Does she sound afraid?"
The woman hesitated.
"No."
"Does she sound like herself?"
Another hesitation.
"I..."
Her voice trembled.
"I don't know anymore."
Hannah took both her hands.
"Then stay with us until you do."
The woman looked toward the trees once more before slowly stepping back.
The Voice continued calling.
She remained where she was.

The deeper we travelled, the less frequently the voices came.
Instead, the forest began revealing signs of the villagers who had passed through.
A piece of red cloth tied around a branch.
A child's drawing scratched into a flat stone.
An empty water flask resting beside a tree.
Each marker pointed toward the quarry.
Thomas crouched beside the latest one.
"They're leaving these deliberately."
"Why?" Caleb asked.
"Because some of them may have started doubting the Guide."
Dylan looked at the trail.
"Then we need to reach them before fear makes the decision for them."

The trees finally opened.
The old quarry appeared beyond the ridge.
It was larger than I expected, with tall stone walls surrounding a wide abandoned pit.
Several ruined buildings stood around its edge.
Lanterns glowed inside them.
Dozens of people had gathered there.
The villagers from Ash Hollow.
They were alive.
Families stood close together, some holding hands while others stared toward the centre of the quarry.
A tall man stood on a raised stone platform.
His face remained partly hidden beneath a dark hood.
He wasn't speaking.
He didn't need to.
A low murmur travelled through the crowd as people listened to voices only they could hear.
Dylan studied the scene.
"They're waiting."
Thomas nodded.
"The Guide promised them their loved ones would appear here."
Martha's expression hardened.
"Then we have to show them the truth."
Dylan shook his head.
"Carefully."
He looked at the group.
"If we storm in, they'll see us as the people taking their hope away."
"What do you suggest?" Renwick asked.
"We let them question what they're hearing."
Samuel understood immediately.
"Give them reasons to doubt."
"Exactly."

Dylan stepped forward.
His voice carried across the quarry.
"People of Ash Hollow."
Heads turned.
The murmurs faded.
The hooded figure remained on the stone platform.
Dylan continued.
"You came here because someone promised you reunion."
A woman near the front shouted back.
"We heard them!"
"I believe you."
That answer visibly unsettled the crowd.
Dylan didn't challenge their experiences.
Instead, he asked a question.
"If your loved ones are truly here..."
He looked toward the hooded figure.
"...why haven't they stepped forward?"
The crowd shifted.
Several people exchanged uncertain glances.
The Guide finally raised his head.
His voice was calm.
"They're afraid."
A man shouted,
"Then let us see them!"
The Guide's gaze swept across the quarry.
"They will appear when you're ready."
Dylan smiled faintly.
"That's convenient."
The Guide's expression hardened.
"You don't understand what these people have lost."
Dylan stepped closer.
"I understand exactly what they've lost."
He looked toward Samuel.
"That's why I refuse to let grief make their choices."
Samuel stepped beside him.
"I followed those promises for twelve years."
The crowd turned toward him.
"I heard the voice of the woman I loved."
His gaze remained fixed on the Guide.
"I followed her."
"I lost years."
"She never appeared."
The Guide shifted.
That tiny movement was enough.
People noticed.
Martha stepped forward.
"My son heard the same voice."
Thomas joined her.
"And I walked away."
A murmur travelled through the villagers.
The Guide's calm began to fracture.
Dylan looked across the quarry.
"Your memories belong to you."
"Your love belongs to you."
"Your choices belong to you."
He extended his hand toward the people standing closest to him.
"Come home when you're ready."
The villagers stared at one another.
Then an elderly man stepped away from the crowd.
A woman followed.
Then another family.
The Guide watched them leave.
His expression finally revealed what had been hidden beneath all that calm.
Fear.
The people were choosing for themselves.
And his greatest weapon was losing its hold.