The figure loomed in the doorway for a moment, the torchlight flickering weakly, barely illuminating its shrouded form. Elara's chest tightened as the icy voice echoed in her ears once again, creeping under her skin. It was calling her, not with the commanding force of Ravenor or the menacing growl of the creature—but something far more sinister.
"Elara…" The voice was almost a hiss now, cold, intimate, as if it knew every secret she had ever tried to bury.
She was paralyzed with terror, her eyes wide.
The guards, groaning, tried to pull themselves up. One of them managed to stand, gripping his sword. The other guard, blood trickling down the side of his face, scrambled to find his weapon, but his hands were shaking too much to grasp it.
