The Arctic night wrapped itself around the ship like a shroud, the wind cutting through the silence with an unrelenting, icy ferocity. Evelyn stood alone on the deck, the cold biting at her face and seeping through her coat, but she barely noticed. Her gloved hands clutched her father's journal, its leather cover worn smooth from years of handling. The pages, filled with his cramped handwriting, fluttered in the wind as she tried to steady them. Her gaze skimmed the familiar words, searching for something she wasn't sure she wanted to find.
The whispers will guide us, his notes read. They are not just a sound but a presence—a force that shapes and draws us closer to the truth beneath the waves.
She closed her eyes, her breath visible in the frigid air. The ship's engines hummed faintly beneath her feet, the only tether to the world above water. Everything else felt distant, as though she stood on the precipice of a void.
Then she heard them again.
The whispers were faint at first, like a soft breeze brushing her ear. Her pulse quickened as they grew louder, insistent, rising above the howl of the wind. They weren't words—at least not ones she could understand—but they carried a rhythm, a cadence that pulled at her like an invisible current. She gripped the railing, her knuckles turning white, as the stars above began to blur.
The world shifted.
Her vision darkened, and shadowy figures emerged from the edges of her mind, their forms fluid and undefined. Their glowing eyes pierced through the haze, fixing on her with an intensity that made her skin crawl. They moved closer, their shapes flickering and shifting like smoke caught in a tempest.
"Evelyn."
Her name echoed in their haunting chorus, each syllable dragging her deeper into the void. The cold she had ignored moments before now sank into her bones, chilling her from the inside out. Her breath hitched as the rushing sound of water filled her ears, drowning out even the whispers. The weight of their gaze pressed down on her, heavy and suffocating, as though the air itself had turned against her.
Her knees buckled. She collapsed onto the icy deck, gasping for air as her father's journal slipped from her hands and skidded across the metal floor. The whispers swirled around her, relentless, their tone shifting between a plea and a demand. Her chest tightened as a wave of nausea swept over her, leaving her disoriented and trembling.
And then, as suddenly as they had come, the whispers faded.
The world snapped back into focus. The ship was silent again, save for the wind and the rhythmic creak of the hull. Evelyn blinked, struggling to steady her breathing. Her hands shook as she crawled forward and grabbed the journal, clutching it to her chest like a lifeline.
"Evelyn!"
The voice was sharp, cutting through her fog. She turned her head to see Naomi rushing toward her, her expression a mix of concern and alarm. Naomi's boots clanged against the metal deck as she knelt beside her.
"You're freezing!" Naomi exclaimed, her hands gripping Evelyn's shoulders. "What happened?"
Evelyn shook her head, her voice hoarse. "Nothing. I'm fine. Just… exhaustion." She forced the words out, though they felt hollow even to her.
"Exhaustion?" Naomi's tone was incredulous as she helped Evelyn to her feet. "You're trembling. You look like you've seen a ghost."
Evelyn leaned heavily against Naomi, her legs unsteady beneath her. "I just… needed some air," she said, her gaze darting away.
Naomi frowned, studying her closely. "Air? Evelyn, it's below freezing out here. You shouldn't even be—"
"I'm fine," Evelyn snapped, sharper than she intended. She immediately softened her tone. "Sorry. I just need to rest."
Naomi hesitated but nodded, wrapping an arm around Evelyn's shoulders to guide her back inside. "Come on. Let's get you warmed up before you freeze to death."
They walked in silence, the warmth of the ship's interior a stark contrast to the bitter cold outside. Naomi glanced at Evelyn occasionally, concern still etched on her face, but she didn't press further. Evelyn was grateful for the reprieve.
Once they reached Evelyn's cabin, Naomi hovered in the doorway, hesitant to leave her alone. "If you need anything, just call me, okay?"
"I will," Evelyn said, forcing a small smile. "Thank you."
Naomi nodded, though she didn't look convinced. She lingered for a moment longer before finally turning and walking away.
Evelyn closed the door and leaned against it, her head falling back with a soft thud. Her hand instinctively went to the journal, clutching it tightly as she crossed the room to her desk. She sank into the chair, her reflection staring back at her from the small mirror mounted on the wall.
Her pale face looked gaunt in the dim light, dark circles under her eyes betraying her exhaustion. She reached up, her fingers trembling as they brushed against her cheek. Her skin felt cold, even now, as though the whispers had left an imprint on her.
"It's starting," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Just like it did for him."
Her father's face flashed in her mind—his eyes alight with excitement, his voice trembling with the weight of secrets he had uncovered. The whispers will guide us, he had said. But they had guided him to ruin.
Evelyn's gaze dropped to the journal, its pages worn and frayed. She opened it, her eyes scanning the familiar handwriting. The words seemed different now, heavier, as though they carried a weight she hadn't understood before.
Her fingers traced the lines on the page, her mind racing with questions she wasn't ready to confront. The whispers weren't just a figment of her imagination. They were real. And they were pulling her toward something she couldn't escape.
The rushing sound of water echoed faintly in her ears again, and she shivered. The figures from her vision lingered in the corners of her mind, their glowing eyes a constant reminder that she was no longer just an observer in this expedition. She was a part of it now, whether she wanted to be or not.
For the first time, she felt a flicker of fear she couldn't suppress.