The Echoes of What Remains: A Novel of Unseen Horrors

Chapter 13: The Echoes of Discord

The accusation hung heavy in the air, a devastating blow that fractured the already fragile group. Aoi's words, sharp and bitter, ignited a new, volatile wave of discord that surged through the lobby.

Kaito stood stunned, his face pale, unable to speak, as Yuto and Naomi joined Aoi, their voices rising in a desperate, grief-fueled chorus of blame.

"You said it was safe!" Naomi shrieked, tears streaming down her face. "You said we were doing the right thing! Five more people died because of your plan, Kaito!"

"This is all your fault!" Yuto screamed, pointing a trembling finger at him. "First Haruto, then them! You're just as bad as Ren!"

Akari, stepping forward, tried to intervene, her voice sharp with frustration. "Stop it! Don't you see?! This is exactly what it wants! 'Where hearts divide, its breath grows strong!' We're feeding it!"

"Feeding it?!" Aoi scoffed, her eyes blazing. "We're just trying to survive! And your 'leader' here got five more people killed!"

The remaining students splintered. Some, their faces etched with despair, nodded in agreement with Aoi, their fear and grief turning into open hostility towards Kaito and Akari.

Others, still clinging to the hope of a plan, tried to defend them, or simply retreated into themselves, overwhelmed by the escalating chaos.

The lobby, already a scene of unspeakable horror with Ren and other 5 bodies recently removed and the lingering scent of blood, now became a crucible of raw, unfiltered human emotion.

The argument raged, fueled by grief and terror.

Kaito tried to defend his actions, his voice hoarse, but his words were lost in the cacophony of accusations.

Akari desperately tried to remind them of the book's warning, but her pleas were drowned out by the escalating shouts.

The group was tearing itself apart, just as the book had vaguely foretold.

The memory of Ren's betrayal and gruesome death hung heavy over them all.

His desperate plea, his selfish choice, and his horrifying end were fresh in their minds.

Some students, like Aoi, used it as a weapon against Kaito.

"Ren only did what he thought he had to do to survive! And you, Kaito, you forced us all into a choice that killed five more! You're just as responsible for their deaths as Ren was for Haruto's!"

The accusation struck Kaito deep, paralyzing him.

He had genuinely believed he was doing the right thing, trying to protect them. But the outcome... the horrifying outcome...

As the verbal attacks intensified, the group began to physically separate.

Those who sided with Aoi, their faces hardened by anger, moved towards one side of the vast lobby, forming a defiant cluster.

Others, still loyal to Kaito or simply too overwhelmed to choose, retreated to the opposite side, or huddled closer to the couches, their eyes darting nervously between the two factions.

The sweet, decaying floral scent in the lobby seemed to deepen, becoming almost cloying, and the faint whispers, though still indistinct, felt like they were swirling with increased intensity, a hungry hum of satisfaction.

The air grew heavy, thick with the tension of their fractured unity.

As their arguments escalated, the hotel itself seemed to respond.

The sweet floral scent became overwhelming, a cloying, suffocating presence that made them gag and their heads spin with nausea.

The whispers, no longer faint, grew louder, clearer, forming coherent, mocking sentences that echoed their accusations and despair.

"Foolish… divided… feed us… more… more…"

The very air seemed to thicken, pulsating with a malevolent energy that pressed down on them.

The dim lights in the lobby began to flicker violently, sometimes plunging them into near darkness, sometimes flaring with an unnatural, sickly yellow intensity that hurt their eyes.

The shadows stretched and writhed, seeming to take on grotesque shapes in the periphery of their vision, dancing in time with their furious shouts.

Cold spots appeared around those who were shouting the loudest, a chilling presence that seemed to drain the warmth from their bodies, leaving them shivering uncontrollably despite the stifling air.

The grandfather clock, at the end of the hallway, began to chime erratically, its bongs no longer marking time, but sounding like a frantic, triumphant peal of bells, echoing the growing chaos.

The hotel itself was reacting, pulsating with their fear and discord, growing stronger, hungrier.

The night was drawing in once more, and the game was far from finished.