Page 30 of Threads Of Madly Whispers

My evening with Sebastian was more like a tryst than anything else. A candlelit dinner in a rose glass garden with wine and music. I danced for him and it was enlivening in the most toxic way.

I felt naked in his presence, as he rawly devoured me to pieces. It made me heady, a feeling I have never experienced before. One I fail to put words to.

At night when I close my eyes and the silence sheaths me, I let that all consuming spark light me up. And when he visits me at night, lurking in the darkness, I pull my blankets down to reveal myself to him.

My fingers slowly drag along my slit, coating in my wetness. And then I tantalizingly bring them to my lips and smear them, tasting my arousal.

I might not see him every night, but I always feel his heated gaze on me, those sea blue eyes marking me like apredator. And nor does he leave until my release shatters me and sleep clouds me.

Every night, it’s almost our ritual. One with unspoken words, yet a thousand said at once.

Later that evening, when he dropped me off, I never stopped watching our night play behind my closed eyes.

Dancing has always felt like a pain induced glory. A fine line between malign and glace. And that night in his music room, I had never felt so rhapsodic like I was in seventh heaven. So high off cadence and furor. He played so graciously, so trance-coaxing, so breath-taking. He curved the piano notes like an instrument he was unimaginably acquainted with. An instrument he had learned and debossed in his mind. The moment shackled between exultant and darkly dirty. It might have been his hands pressing against key notes, but it was the same hands pulling the strings to my soul. Not like that of a puppet, but that of cogency.

I played his mendacity, and now l want more. I thought dancing to the buried was intoxicating, but it is nothing compared to the man who pushes me past my limits until I’m crumbling and falling. But it’s a fall from grace I’ll gladly land to dust for.

“Good,” I hear the discontent in her tone. Naseria is like a guard dog, and she is just waiting to find anything to dislike Sebastian more.

“He is not holding her prisoner. You do understand that concept, right?”

“I do, I just—” Naseria’s gaze flickers to me, a worried glint passing through her eyes before a weak smile tugs at her lips. “—I just want you safe.”

I hook her arm with mine, pulling her close, offering her the reassurance she needs. “It’s nota cage, Naseria. It’s just an enormous fortress. And you’re more than welcome to visit anytime, yes?”

She nods and while her smile stretches to reach her eyes, it is not as bright.

A bare ground encircles the crumbling remnants of an ancient church, its once proud structure now splintering under the weight of time. Surrounding it, mountains of wild, untamed trees rise like dark sentinels, and a weathered pathway winds its way towards the ruins beneath our feet.

The ground remains untouched and devoid of life.

An ashy fog hangs low, casting a pall over the sky, turning it into a flat, oppressive white blanket that presses mere inches above us. From this distance, the temple appears vacant, haunted, as though the very walls are haunted by memories long forgotten. The closer we draw, the more I’m convinced these forsaken stones are crawling with sinister tales.

Instead of windows, wooden planks have been hammered haphazardly into the sides, each one leaving jagged holes through which a glance can be stolen. The walls are streaked in mismatched colors, once vibrant, now faded and blurred, like old memories bleeding into one another. But the two double doors—those remain holding their ground with their solid, weathered frames. Each door boasts iron handles that glint like teeth, and carved into the wood at the center is an ominous skull with horns and an upside-down cross. The sight sends a chill creeping up my spine, cold and unrelenting.

“This place seems like bad news,” I say

“It’s daylight, I’m sure it will be fine,”Miro signs, his fingers graceful in the quiet space between us.

“That’s not promising at all,” I can’t help the uneasy chuckle that escapes me, though it does little to ease theknot in my stomach. The sun means nothing, not when evil never rests.

We went digging, which we should not have but what can I say. We’re clearly young and cretinous.

Naseria lost her sister a few months ago. Her death, like my parents, was arcane and left more questions than answers. In truth, there weren’t any immediate answers. Just like the other deaths that have been dropping around us. Hence why we’re here, once more in a questionable place, because of our dubious choices.

Nova, her name was Nova. Most mistook them for twins, with their strawberry-ashy blonde hair and chestnut eyes, but Nova was the older sister, the one who watched over the rest of us. She was the heart of our group, candid and precious, with a soul much like Naseria’s—unapologetically free-spirited.

Nova’s disappearance, followed by the grim discovery of her body in the river, sent their mother, Estella, into a downward spiral. Grief turned to substance abuse, and Estella lost herself in drugs and alcohol, numbing the pain until, tragically, the very thing she thought would dull her heartache ended up claiming her life.

Kimberly, Nova’s lover, though I say that term lightly, as I often wonder if Kimberly truly understood the weight of the word, was the one who led Nova toward darker paths. Transgressions we were too innocent to understand back then, until Kimberly’s guilt became too much to bear. She confessed her sins, an unburdening of the soul that ended with her hanging herself, the guilt and grief swallowing her whole.

“I—I did not know they would, I thought— they wouldn’t take it that far.”

“Who, Kim? Who took it too far?” Naseria asks, her voicesteady but edged with frustration. Kim fidgets with her hands, her eyes darting nervously around the room, unable to meet any of our gazes.

“I’m sorry, I—I, ah, I should not have allowed them to get to her.” Her voice trembles, and at this point, her body shakes with the enormity of her guilt. Tears spill from her eyes, the fear in them loud and palpable. “The Stamatoties Clan, it was meant to be—I don’t know, fun, I don’t know.” She pushes herself to her feet and starts pacing, the restless energy in her movements only adding to the tension. “I loved her.”

“You did not think they would what, Kim?!” Naseria’s voice rises in desperation, the wheels turning in her mind. She stands, pushing off her chair, and grabs Kim’s shoulders with a force that makes Kim flinch. “What did the Stamatoties Clan do to my sister, Kimberly?”

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