Page 91 of Shadowed Whispers

“Now, Bishop,” he mutters, disconnecting the call.

“Why did you call Bishop?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper.

“Francesca, I need you to listen to me,” he says, his gaze locked on the empty hall ahead. He’s not just looking, he’s plotting, calculating. “When I say run.” He finally turns to look at me, his eyes intense. “Run.”

The urgency in his voice and the grave expression on his face tell me more than any explanation could. Whatever is happening, it’s bigger and more dangerous than I could have imagined.

His eyes remain fixed on the dark corridor, the tension in his body palpable. I feel the danger pulsating through the air, a silent, sinister rhythm that seems to beckon from the shadows.

“Dorian, what are we waiting for?” My voice is a mix of fear and frustration. Every nerve in my body is alert, waiting for something, anything, to happen.

He doesn’t answer, his gaze never wavering from the darkness ahead. The silence stretches, heavy and thick, until it’s abruptly shattered by the distant sound of footsteps approaching rapidly. Dorian’s body tenses further, and his hand tightens around mine, a silent promise that he won’t let go.

“Get ready,” he whispers, the words barely audible.

The footsteps grow louder, closer. I can almost sense the threat heading toward us, a palpable force of malevolence that makes my heart race. This is no ordinary danger—it’s something otherworldly, something that belongs in the shadows.

Suddenly, Dorian pulls me behind him, positioning himself between me and the approaching threat. His other hand reaches into his jacket, pulling out what looks like a small, metallic device. It’s sleek and unlike anything I’ve seen before, humming with a strange energy.

“Run on my mark,” he says, his voice low and urgent.

Before I can respond, the shadows at the end of the corridor shift and twist, coalescing into a tall, menacing figure. The creature’s eyes glow a deep red, its form flickering like a bad television signal. It lets out a growl that chills me to the bone, a sound that speaks of hunger and rage.

Dorian steps forward, the device in his hand coming to life with a bright, pulsating light. “Now, Frankie, run!”

Instead of running, I’m rooted to the spot, transfixed by the scene unfolding before me. Dorian moves with a precision and confidence that belies the danger, his device emitting a beam of light that strikes the creature. The beast howls in pain, recoiling from the light, but it doesn’t retreat. It regroups, preparing to attack again.

“Frankie, I mean it—run!” Dorian shouts over his shoulder, his voice a desperate command that cuts through the chaos. His attention is split between me and the shadow creature, his body tense and ready for conflict.

This time, his tone brooks no argument. The fear in his voice, more than the creature itself, spurs me into action. My heart hammers as I turn and sprint down the corridor, my footsteps echoing loudly in the empty school. Behind me, the sounds of a fierce struggle fill the air—a symphony of growls and the strange, electrical hum of Dorian’s device.

As I run, the weight of what’s happening crashes down on me. Dorian is back there, fighting a creature that defies all logic, to protect me, and in this moment, as fear and adrenaline pump through my veins, I realize that nothing will ever be the same again.

My breath catches in my throat with every step, fear and determination mingling in my pounding heart. The corridor ahead spills out into the night, the open doors framing the moonlit courtyard that stands between me and the dorms—the supposed haven Dorian is so desperate for us to reach.

Emerging into the chilly night air, I hesitate for just a moment, my skin prickling with the sudden drop in temperature. I glance back to see if Dorian is behind me, but that moment of hesitation costs me as I feel a powerful grip encircle my wrist, pulling me backward. A surge of relief floods through me when I see its Dorian, not the creature. His expression is fierce, his eyes burning with an intensity I’ve never seen before.

“Keep moving, Frankie!” he orders, his voice a harsh whisper that slices through the night. We sprint together across the courtyard, our footsteps loud on the cobblestones, the ancient stones cold and unyielding beneath my shoes.

The shadow beast emerges from the building, its form more terrifying in the moonlight. It’s massive, much larger than I realized inside, its body a swirling mass of darkness that seems to suck in the light around it. Its red eyes fixate on us, malevolent intelligence shining within them.

Dorian pulls me behind a large, gnarled oak tree in the center of the courtyard. He releases my hand briefly to pull out the metallic device again, which now seems to vibrate with an urgent, whirring energy. “When I say now, run straight for the dormitory door. It’s unlocked,” he instructs, his gaze not leaving the beast.

I nod, unable to form words, my entire body tensed for the run. Dorian steps away from the tree, positioning himself between me and the beast as it begins to move toward us, each deliberate step causing the air to tremble with its power.

“Now, Frankie! Go!” Dorian shouts, thrusting the device forward. A brilliant beam of white light shoots from it, striking the beast. It lets out an agonized howl that seems to shake the leaves on the trees.

I turn and run as fast as I can toward the dormitory, my heart hammering in my chest, the beast’s enraged howls echoing behind me. The sounds of their confrontation—a terrifying symphony of growls, shrieks, and the eerie buzz of Dorian’s device—propel me forward.

As I reach the door, I glance back and see Dorian dodging a swipe from one of the beast’s massive shadowy limbs. He rolls to the ground, narrowly avoiding the attack, and jumps back to his feet, the device still in hand. He’s fighting with a desperation that’s both terrifying and awe-inspiring.

Fumbling with the handle, I finally manage to throw open the door and rush inside. The relative safety of the dormitory hallway does little to calm my racing heart. I can’t leave him out there alone. He might be strong and mysterious, but he’s still just one person.

“Dorian!” I shout from the doorway, not caring about the danger anymore. I can’t just run and hide while he battles for our lives.

Dorian glances at me, his expression one of fierce determination. “Stay inside, Frankie!” he yells just as the creature launches another attack. This time, Dorian meets the beast head-on, the device in his hand glowing even brighter as he thrusts it toward the creature.

The light seems to solidify, forming a barrier between him and the beast. It recoils, its form flickering as if the light is tearing it apart, but it doesn’t retreat. Instead, it gathers the shadows around it, growing larger and more formidable. Its eyes, glowing fiercely with a malevolent fire, reflect its undying resolve.

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