NOVEL WEB Chapter 10: Echoes of a Voice
"When the heart loses those it loves… the earth distorts, and the air turns to ash."
The wind was strangely warm, brushing against the dead leaves that whispered above their heads, as if trying to warn them.
Rosella walked with tense steps, her eyes fixed on the path ahead — but her heart was elsewhere.
One hand held the child's cold, unnaturally cold hand. She didn't notice… or perhaps she simply didn't dare admit what she felt.
In her other arm, she carried Arian, asleep. His small head rested on her shoulder, calm… despite the chaos surrounding them.
Then suddenly—
Rosella turned.
"Eleanor?"
The name escaped her lips like a frightened whisper.
She looked around, confused… then her voice rose, tinged with panic:
"Eleanor?! Where are you?! Eleanor!!"
It was as if the trees had swallowed her sister. No voice. No trace. Nothing.
She moved to run, arm outstretched—
but the boy whose hand she held stopped.
He was like a tree rooted in the ground. Still. Unmoving.
She looked at him, confused, her voice gentle:
"What's wrong? Come, we have to find her…"
But the child slowly turned his face toward her.
His eyes—
Wide. Empty.
Cold as death.
"I want my mother."
His words came in a whisper—emotionless. No longing, no sorrow.
Only a distant echo from another world.
A chill ran through her — from her wrist to her neck.
"We'll look for her together, but now—"
She didn't finish.
Suddenly—
The child yanked her hand, violently. With strength that didn't belong to any child.
Strength beyond reason.
And something tore.
A scream pierced the forest.
She looked down at her arm—
Gone.
Severed at the wrist.
Blood gushed, not trickled — as if her heart itself was screaming through the wound.
She gasped.
The world tilted around her.
The boy's voice remained steady.
Calm. Unbothered.
"I want my mother…"
Then suddenly—
Arian was ripped from her arms.
"Ar—Arian!!!"
She screamed, her voice echoing through the trees as if she were crying out to the universe itself.
Everything blurred after that.
Pain.
Blood.
Shock.
Then—
Darkness.
⸻
When consciousness returned, the light was dim, and the ground cold beneath her.
The first thing she felt was a faint pain in her hand… but—
She moved it.
It was there.
She shot upright, panting, and looked at her hand—
Whole.
But the pain remained… pulsing, contradicting what her eyes saw.
Azeal sat beside her, watching in silence.
No surprise in his face.
"Arian… Eleanor… where—?"
"We'll find them."
He said it calmly, his eyes locked with hers.
"But… the boy? My hand? What happened?!"
He looked toward the shadows of the trees and said:
"The child… wasn't alive.
These children… they were never buried.
Their bodies left to rot… and their souls… stayed behind."
Rosella gasped, her face drained of color.
"But we didn't harm them!"
He looked at her—
with a strange expression, dark eyes full of ancient things.
"You are human…
And sometimes… that alone is enough."
She tried to move. To act. Anything.
But her feet betrayed her.
She looked around — no familiar face.
The forest looked like something else entirely.
It breathed dust instead of air, and the trees bent like they were writhing in old pain.
"Where…?" she whispered.
She stepped forward, then stopped.
The sense of being lost… was too large to describe.
She turned slowly, her eyes searching the nothing.
And when even hope was gone…
She collapsed.
She fell to the ground, arms limp, face hidden in her palms…
Her sobs came stifled — like something had broken deep inside her.
Azeal stood behind her, silent.
His eyes half-closed, revealing nothing.
Then he stepped forward and knelt, his voice soft.
Not cruel, but not kind either.
"Crying… like a child… won't bring anyone back."
She looked up quickly.
Her eyes red. Shimmering.
"And what if they're already dead?!"
His voice hesitated for a moment, then replied:
"Then… you'll keep living.
For them."
He stood, extended a hand:
"Come. I think I know where we need to go."
She hesitated—
But his gaze didn't let her refuse.
There was something in him… too sure. Too terrifying.
⸻
The forest shifted the deeper they walked.
The trees seemed to watch.
Their trunks carved with symbols that didn't belong to men.
Somewhere far away… a sound.
Weeping? Or wind?
She couldn't tell anymore.
"Do you really know where they are?" she asked, voice low.
He didn't look back:
"I am not an ordinary human."
A shiver ran through her.
But she didn't stop.
⸻
Through the trees, suddenly—
Eleanor.
Standing not far ahead, in a torn white dress.
Her eyes glimmered beneath fractured light.
She smiled… and waved gently.
She said nothing,
but her gesture was clear:
Follow me.
"Eleanor!" Rosella cried, stepping forward—
But Azeal grabbed her arm, firmly.
"What?!" she said, frightened.
"This forest… doesn't return what it takes so easily.
Something is wrong."
But Eleanor smiled…
walked lightly ahead — like her feet didn't touch the ground.
They followed — fearfully, helplessly.
And beyond the trees…
A lake.
Still.
Too still.
Beside it…
Statues.
And then—
A castle.
A massive gray hall, shrouded in dust.
But it wasn't the castle that chilled them.
It was the sound.
Screams.
Not loud… but clear.
Long, endless wails of agony.
Rosella turned to Azeal, pale-faced:
"What is this…?"
Azeal approached one of the statues, placed his hand on it—
Then froze.
"She's… breathing…"
Rosella rushed to him—
Her heart pounding.
Her eyes scanned the stone faces… one by one—
Until—
She gasped.
"Eleanor…?!"
Yes.
A statue of Eleanor.
Frozen in a moment of terror.
Hands raised as if shielding herself from some horror.
"Is—Is she dead?!" Rosella asked, barely able to breathe.
Azeal stepped closer, placed his hand near her neck, waited…
"She's alive."
But his tone was cautious.
Unbelieving.
"What is this…? Who could turn people into living stone?
And who builds a castle… in the middle of a graveyard path?"
"Rosella," Azeal said…
"Let's go in."
"How can I leave her like this?!"
Rosella's voice trembled.
Eleanor's skin was still alive beneath the stone.
Her right eye barely open… filled with terror.
"How can I leave her all alone like this?"
Azeal stood silently, then said:
"Would you rather stay here, mourning her—
Or come with me…
find out what happened…
and maybe save them?"
She looked at him, torn between screaming and guilt.
Then whispered:
"If you were me…
Would you leave her?"
He replied slowly, eyes on the forest behind:
"If I were you…
I wouldn't be here at all."
The words struck her like a slap.
She wiped her tears with trembling fingers, stood slowly, and nodded:
"Let's go."
⸻
The closer they got to the castle, the louder the sounds became.
Not screams of death, but—
Pleas.
Endless human whimpering,
as if the walls themselves were breathing despair.
The path was lined with gray stones, and wilted flowers growing between cracks.
Rosella reached out and touched the door.
It was warm…
No.
Alive.
She opened it slowly. The creak of old wood moaned.
Inside was darkness.
Suffocating.
Cobwebs draped the ceiling.
Walls eroded.
The smell of rot filled the air — ancient and thick, like death with memory.
Massive portraits hung crooked on the walls.
Noblemen with twisted faces —
As if they had stared into the void too long… and lost their minds.
"This castle is too big," Rosella whispered, clutching the edge of her dirty dress.
"How will we find them?"
But Azeal didn't answer.
His face grew harder.
His eyes — unreadable.
"Are you… afraid?" she asked.
He replied without looking:
"I stopped fearing long ago."
⸻
As she walked behind him, she stumbled over something.
She looked down.
A human skull.
She gasped and stepped back—
But caught sight of dried blood scrawled across the wall.
The blood formed strange threads… leading to a half-open door.
She pushed it.
Time froze.
It was a kitchen.
But not for cooking.
For slaughter.
The stench overwhelmed her.
Flies invaded every corner.
Old blood stained the floors and walls.
In a dark corner…
A pile of human bones — hidden, as if buried in shame.
And then—
Two skeletons, sitting.
Embracing.
As if they had clung to each other in the end…
And died that way.
Rosella clutched her mouth, heart pounding.
"Humans… did this…"
Her voice broke — like it was rising from a grave.
"They didn't even bury them…"
She fell to her knees.
Face hidden in her arms.
She began to cry.
But not just for Eleanor or Arian.
For all the forgotten ones.
For those left under dust.
For those whose voices became echoes.
"I'm sorry…"
She whispered, over and over.
Each tear fell like a drop of mercy on dead soil.
Azeal…
Suddenly stared at the space above the bones.
Something there.
Spirits.
Clear.
He hadn't seen them before —
But now, they were there.
They floated. Not walked.
Not flew.
They appeared.
Their faces weren't angry.
Not tortured.
But sad.
Quiet.
Grateful.
They looked at Rosella — in silence.
And then—
The child.
That child.
Appeared again.
But this time…
in his mother's arms.
Her face was gentle.
Her eyes calm.
She raised a hand…
And pointed toward the exit.
"They're telling us to leave…"
Azeal's voice barely audible.
Rosella raised her face, tear-streaked:
"We haven't found my siblings yet! Who are they to order us?!"
Azeal reached for her hand.
Something odd in his voice:
"Trust me…
We must leave."
⸻
The doors slammed shut behind them.
Rosella turned in shock.
She ran toward Eleanor's statue, hugged it tightly, her tears unstoppable:
"I'm sorry… sorry I left you… sorry I wasn't strong enough… I'm so, so sorry…"
Suddenly—
A hand touched her shoulder.
She froze.
Turned.
A woman.
Long silver hair.
Three eyes.
The third — in her forehead — glowed with a color she had never seen before.
She held Arian in her arms…
Sleeping peacefully.
She handed him to her.
Rosella gasped—
Held him.
Kissed him.
Called his name over and over.
Clutched him like she'd never let go again.
Before she could speak—
Eleanor's statue collapsed toward her.
She screamed, tried to stop it—
But it wasn't stone.
It was flesh.
Eleanor had returned.
Alive.
Her eyes open — faint, pale… but breathing.
Rosella clung to her sister like she could force life back into her just by holding tight enough.
"You came back… you came back…"
She whispered, trembling.
⸻
Far behind them, Azeal stood in silence.
Watching them.
Face calm…
But inside — not calm at all.
This passage…
was supposed to devour human souls.
But she—
Survived.
Why?
How?
Then…
A whisper.
From behind.
Soft. Faint. Laughing.
"A pure soul…"
His eyes widened.
He looked at Rosella—
And for the first time in a long time…
Something stirred in him.
Something like admiration.
Something like reverence.
Or maybe…
Something like wonder.