The night was quiet, too quiet. The kind of silence that pressed against Noah's ears, heavier than the howling winds of the wilderness. He sat alone, apart from Alex and Eira, who had already drifted into uneasy sleep near the dying fire. His hand clenched tightly around the hilt of his blade, though it wasn't danger outside that made him restless—it was the storm within.
The whispers had returned.
"You are wasted among them. Do you not feel the power sleeping inside your veins?"
Noah's jaw tightened. He dug the blade into the soil, grounding himself. He thought the voice had been his imagination when it first slithered into his thoughts days ago. But it was no hallucination. It was something darker, older, and it wanted him.
He had always been the calm one, the shield of the group. But lately, his calm cracked under sudden waves of rage he couldn't explain. He found himself staring too long at Eira's bow, at Alex's determination, and wondering why he always felt like the weakest link.
"You are not weak… You are chosen. They will never understand. But I will."
Noah's breaths grew ragged. "Chosen by what?" he whispered harshly, his voice trembling.
The fire flickered unnaturally, its glow stretching shadows across the monastery walls looming in the distance. For a moment, Noah thought he saw something standing there, cloaked in black, its face hidden. His chest tightened, and cold sweat dampened his brow.
The figure raised its hand, and Noah's heart skipped. He blinked, and it was gone—just the night again.
He pressed his palms against his eyes, trying to steady himself. He didn't want Alex or Eira to see him like this. He was supposed to be their anchor, not the crack in their foundation.
By dawn, the group was already moving. The monastery loomed larger with every step, its ancient stone walls stained by centuries of weather and war. Alex walked ahead, steady and determined, while Eira scouted their surroundings with sharp, vigilant eyes. Noah trailed behind, his thoughts swirling like poisoned smoke.
When Alex slowed his pace, Noah nearly stumbled into him.
"You alright?" Alex asked, his tone casual, but his eyes searching.
"I'm fine," Noah muttered quickly, averting his gaze. He hated lying, but the truth was worse. If Alex knew about the voice… would he even trust him?
Eira glanced back, her sharp gaze lingering on him longer than usual. She didn't press, but Noah felt her suspicion. He clenched his fists tighter.
That night, as they rested outside the monastery gates, Noah couldn't hold it in anymore. The voice grew louder, more insistent.
"They don't need you. They don't trust you. Why do you cling to them when you could rule alongside me?"
Noah gasped, clutching his head. The firelight flickered again, casting monstrous shapes that twisted and writhed like demons around him. His body shook as he fought against the whispers, but part of him—some hidden, darker part—wanted to listen.
"One word, Noah. Say yes, and I will grant you strength beyond measure. They will bow to you. Even Alex."
The mention of Alex snapped him back. Images of his friend's determination, his stubborn will to protect them all, filled his mind. Alex wasn't his enemy. Neither was Eira. They were his family now.
But what if the voice was right?
What if he was holding them back?
Noah stumbled away from the camp, his body trembling violently. He fell to his knees, his blade clattering onto the stones. His reflection in the polished steel didn't look like him anymore. His eyes glowed faintly red, his expression twisted with shadows he didn't recognize.
"No…" His voice cracked. "This isn't me."
"It is you. It has always been you. The Guardians are not saviors—they are liars. They will betray you, just as they betrayed me."
The ground beneath him trembled faintly, as if responding to the voice. Noah bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, forcing himself to breathe. He had a choice—to drown in the whispers or fight to silence them.
For now, he chose silence.
But deep inside, he knew the darkness wasn't gone. It was patient. Waiting. And each day, its grip grew stronger.
When Noah returned to the camp, Alex was awake. He didn't ask questions, just gave Noah a tired smile.
"You're not sleeping much these days," Alex said softly.
Noah forced a smile back. "I'll be fine. Just… a lot on my mind."
Alex nodded but didn't press. That simple trust stabbed Noah deeper than any blade. Because he knew, sooner or later, he might become the very thing Alex would have to fight.
And as the monastery's bells tolled in the distance, echoing through the night, Noah realized one thing: his greatest enemy might not be the shadows waiting within those walls. It might be the shadow already inside him.
END OF CHARPTER 41