They turned to leave, the weight of Darel's story settling heavily on their shoulders. But just before they reached the door, a faint mumbling followed them.
"No… I didn't… don't… sorry… sorry…"
Senna paused, glancing back. Darel had started shaking again, his head lowered, voice cracking under the weight of unseen whispers.
Senna groaned. "It's not even five minutes since I cleansed him. Annoying curse."
Without waiting for Nyr's response, she dropped her pack and rummaged through it with practiced speed.
She pulled out a few tightly bundled herbs, crushed them into a bowl, added a dark liquid from a small vial, and stirred until it formed a thick, bitter-smelling paste.
She knelt beside Darel and forced a bit of it into his mouth.
"Swallow it. It'll hold the edge off."
The old man gagged but complied, barely.
Nyr watched, arms crossed. "And I thought he was just another drug addict."
Senna gave a tired half-laugh.
They stood again, the silence now heavier, almost pressing.
"Let's get to that well before the world throws more at us," Senna said, wiping her hands.
Nyr nodded. "And if it throws something out of the well… we throw it back in."
The path to the well twisted through the heart of the village, growing quieter with every step they took.
Birds that had once chirped in the trees had fallen silent, and even the wind seemed to hush as they approached.
Senna walked just ahead, her hand hovering near her side where a dagger hung. Nyr trailed a few steps behind, eyes scanning rooftops, shadows, and windows that suddenly felt too still. Too watching.
No villagers were out. Not even the usual curious stares or awkward greetings. It was like the entire village had taken one collective breath… and refused to exhale.
"I don't like this," Senna murmured.
"Something's wrong. Like the air's heavier here."
"Yeah," Nyr said. "Like we're walking into a place that knows we're coming."
Senna exhaled. "Alright. Let's not die doing this."
Nyr cracked his knuckles. "We'll see what it has to say first."
They stepped forward—toward the whispering silence.
The moon hung pale and distant behind a veil of clouds, offering little light. The well, which already looked unsettling during the day, now radiated something far worse—wrongness.
The kind that made your instincts scream, even when your mind didn't understand why.
The stone ring looked older in the moonlight. The rope hung limp and frayed, swaying ever so slightly despite the dead stillness in the air.
Senna shivered, though she would never admit it. "Okay… definitely worse at night."
Nyr didn't answer at first. His eyes were fixed on the edge of the well, watching… listening.
"Do you hear that?" he said quietly.
Senna tilted her head. Then she heard it too.
Whispers.
Faint. Distant. Like dozens of voices speaking just beneath the surface of water—impossible to understand, but undeniably there. Not echoes. Not the wind. Voices.
She stepped closer, careful, cautious. The air grew colder near the stone.
"We shouldn't be hearing anything," she muttered. "It's just a damn well."
Nyr crouched near the edge, staring into the darkness within. "I don't think it's a well anymore."
Something moved below. Not clearly—but a flicker. Like a ripple through liquid that wasn't quite water.
Both of them froze.
And then, very softly, something from the depths whispered back.
"Senna~"
Senna's bravado cracked the moment the voice whispered her name.
She gasped and instinctively darted behind Nyr, clutching the back of his coat like a frightened child hiding behind their older sibling.
"Really?" Nyr said with a raised eyebrow, deadpan. "So… Senna's scared of ghosts."
"I am not—" she began, voice trembling, but she didn't get to finish.
From the well, a scream erupted—piercing, furious, inhuman. It wasn't just loud—it cut. Like sound laced with madness.
Senna shrieked and threw her arms around Nyr in reflex, pressing against him as if the closeness could shield her from what she'd heard.
He blinked, momentarily stunned by her grip—and by the softness that came with it.
"Senna—" he started.
In a voice small and shaken, she murmured, "Nyr… let's go…"
Before she could finish, Nyr wrapped his arms around her tightly and pulled her into a calming embrace.
"Hey. It's okay," he said quietly into her ear.
"I've got you. Everything's going to be fine."
She was stiff at first—but didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned into him.
Then, gently, Nyr stepped around her and pulled her into a back-to-front hold, his arms strong and steady around her.
Now," he whispered with a half-smile, "burn that water. Whatever cursed thing it is."
Senna blinked, confused for a heartbeat—then realized what he meant. Her lips curled into a crooked, slightly wicked smirk.
"Ohhh… now I get it."
She raised her hands, igniting that same golden flame, but this time with no hesitation. She pointed both palms toward the well and let loose.
The cursed water hissed and writhed as the holy fire surged into it. Steam belched upward, not like mist, but screams—dozens of them.
Wailing voices cried out in pain, rage, despair. Faces flickered in the steam like ghosts clawing at the air.
Senna didn't flinch. She laughed—wild and victorious.
Senna: How dare you! You embarrassed me! Made me look weak! Even though even though it was… kind of nice.
The fire roared brighter and she shouted,
"Burn! Burn! BURN!"