CHAPTER 26 — THE WHISPERING DARK
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Kyoichiiro didn't know how long he had stood before that iron gate, staring into the darkness beyond the bars, listening to a voice that had no form. All he knew was that the voice—whoever or whatever owned it—did not answer immediately. It let the silence hang, let the tension creep among them like an invisible serpent.
Aetheria behind him was barely breathing. Her hand, gripping the hem of Kyoichiiro's robe, now held tighter, her small, fragile fingernails piercing the thin fabric. Amura stood still, his fireball still burning in his left palm, his remaining sword in his right hand, ready to draw at any moment. But he did not move. He waited.
And finally, from beyond the gate, from within the darkness that light could not penetrate, the voice spoke again.
Voice from Beyond the Gate: (A relaxed tone, almost like a sigh) "Strange boy. You come here empty-handed, with fear you hide behind that flat face of yours, and you say 'I'm listening.'" It paused for a moment. "You know, it's been a very long time since any human said that to me. Usually they scream. Or cry. Or try to cut me."
Kyoichiiro: (Voice flat, but not cold—merely neutral) "I have no reason to scream. I also have no reason to cut you. I just want to know."
Voice from Beyond the Gate: "Know? About what?"
Kyoichiiro: "About this place. About the hooded figures coming and going up there. About the slaves they imprison. And about you."
Voice from Beyond the Gate: (A small laugh—a strange sound, like gravel falling to the bottom of a well) "About me? Boy, you don't even know who I am. Are you sure you want to know?"
Kyoichiiro: "No. But I don't like walking in darkness without knowing what lurks around me."
Silence again. But this time, the voice did not hold back its answer. It seemed merely to be considering—weighing whether Kyoichiiro deserved the information he asked for.
Voice from Beyond the Gate: (Finally, a slightly more serious tone) "Alright. I'll talk. But not for free. Information is never free, boy. You already know that, don't you? You even paid the merchant up there with gold coins for information about this place."
Kyoichiiro: (Not surprised that the voice knew) "What do you want?"
Voice from Beyond the Gate: "For now... nothing. Because you're interesting. I'm curious. So I'll give you a little information, as... an introduction gift." It paused. Then continued, its tone shifting to lower, heavier. "The hooded figures you saw up there... they are not human."
Amura: (From behind, unable to restrain himself) "What do you mean, not human?"
Voice from Beyond the Gate: (As if just noticing Amura's presence) "Oh, you're here too. The boy with red hair and red eyes. You're also interesting. But very well, I'll explain. They are not human in the sense you understand. They are not born. They do not die. They are... made. Or perhaps, they were born from something that should never have been born. I don't know exactly. What I do know is that they have no faces."
Aetheria: (A whisper, barely audible) "No... faces?"
Voice from Beyond the Gate: "Precisely. Beneath those hoods, there is nothing that could be called a face. Only... smooth skin with no eyes, no nose, no mouth. Yet they can see. They can hear. They can speak—though their language is not human language. I call it the whisper language, because that's what it sounds like when they speak. Like whispers from a very distant place."
Kyoichiiro listened intently, his eyes unblinking. His mind recorded every word, every pause, every shift in tone. This voice was not lying—at least, it didn't feel like lying. But it also wasn't telling everything. Something was still being hidden.
Kyoichiiro: "Why are they here? What is their purpose?"
Voice from Beyond the Gate: (Sighing—like an old person tired of explaining things to a child) "Purpose? Do you ask about the purpose of such creatures, boy? They don't have a purpose as you understand it. They simply... exist. They do what they do because it is their nature. Like water flowing downward, like fire burning. They gather. They sell. They serve someone—or something—greater than themselves."
Kyoichiiro: "Who? Or what?"
Voice from Beyond the Gate: (Laughing again, but this time a strange laugh—somewhere between amused and sad) "If I knew, I probably wouldn't be trapped here, boy. But one thing I can say: be careful if you intend to go deeper. One wrong step, and it won't just be your lives that are forfeit. Something more than life will be taken. I can't explain it in words. But you will feel it if it happens."
Kyoichiiro fell silent. Behind him, Aetheria bit her lower lip until it nearly bled. Amura clenched his sword hilt tighter, his knuckles whitening from the pressure.
Kyoichiiro: (After a moment, his voice calm) "Will you stop us if we go in?"
Voice from Beyond the Gate: (A genuinely surprised tone) "Stop you? No. I cannot. I can only speak. This gate is not my control. I am merely... an inhabitant beyond it. Or a prisoner. It depends on how you see it."
Kyoichiiro: "Then how do we open it?"
Voice from Beyond the Gate: "With desire. If you truly wish to enter, this gate will open. But remember my words. Don't blame me if you cannot return."
Kyoichiiro didn't answer. He just stood before that gate, feeling the cold of the iron on his skin, listening to the distant dripping water that still faithfully accompanied the darkness. Then, slowly, he reached out his hand. Not toward the bars, but through the gap between them. His fingers slipped through that narrow space, feeling the air beyond the gate.
And the gate opened.
Not with sound, not with light. Only with a feeling—as if something sighed in relief, as if something surrendered. The iron bars did not move, but suddenly, there was nothing blocking them. They could enter. They could step past that gate as if it had never existed.
Aetheria: (Whispering) "Kyoichiiro-san... are we really going to..."
Kyoichiiro: (Without turning, his voice firm) "We've come this far. I won't turn back before seeing what's beyond this."
He stepped forward. One step past the boundary that had previously been impassable. Amura followed, his fireball still burning, his sword still drawn. Aetheria followed at the rear, her hand still holding Kyoichiiro's robe, afraid to let go.
Beyond the gate, the world felt different.
The air here was colder—not a natural cold, but a cold that seeped into the bones, like the cold of a morgue or a basement untouched by humans for years. The smell of damp earth was still present, but beneath it, there was another smell. An indescribable smell. Like rusted metal, like dried blood, and like something rotten whose source could not be found.
And sound.
Not from one source, but from many. Tiny whispers coming from all directions—from the walls, from the ceiling, from the floor, from the air itself. They did not form words, but Kyoichiiro could feel their meaning. Not in a language he understood, but in emotions he felt. Fear. Pain. Despair. Anger.
Amura: (Whispering, his voice nearly lost amid the cacophony of whispers) "This place... is crowded with sound. But there's no one here."
Kyoichiiro: (Observing his surroundings) "Those aren't human voices. Or at least, not the voices of living humans."
They walked deeper. The passage beyond the gate was no different from the previous passage—earthen walls, low ceiling, compacted floor. But there was one difference. On the right side of the passage, about ten meters from the gate, there was a stream of water. Not clean water, but murky water flowing slowly, with an unnatural grayish color. A drainage channel. Waste from above.
Aetheria: (Covering her nose with her left hand) "It stinks so much..."
Amura: (Also covering his nose) "This is a drainage channel. We need to move quickly."
They quickened their pace, trying not to breathe the foul air rising from the water. Kyoichiiro walked in front, his eyes constantly moving, searching for signs of danger. After about twenty meters, the water channel turned right, disappearing behind an earthen wall. They followed it—not because they wanted to, but because there was no other choice. The passage only had one branch here: to the right, following the water flow.
At that turn, the passage grew darker. Narrower. The air felt heavier, damper. The whispers grew louder, clearer, but still did not form words. Aetheria pressed closer to Kyoichiiro, her body trembling. Amura made his fireball larger, trying to illuminate the darkness that seemed to fight against the light.
They kept walking.
Ten minutes. Twenty. Maybe more. It was hard to measure time in a place where nothing changed except the same earthen walls. And finally, the passage widened. Became a large room—or at least, larger than the narrow passage they had been walking through.
And in that room, there were four passages.
One ahead of them. One to the right. One to the left. And one behind—the passage they had just come from.
They stood at a crossroads.
Kyoichiiro: (Stopping, his eyes moving from one passage to another) "Four directions. Which one do we choose?"
Amura: (Observing his surroundings, trying to sense differences in magical energy in each passage) "I can't feel anything. All these passages feel the same."
Aetheria: (Whispering, her eyes closed—she was trying to listen) "The whispers... I hear the loudest whispers from the left passage."
Kyoichiiro looked left. That passage was dark. Darker than the others? Or was it just a feeling? He didn't know. But Aetheria was never wrong about things like this. She had a sensitivity that neither Kyoichiiro nor Amura possessed—perhaps because she was a healer, accustomed to listening to the voices of body and soul.
Kyoichiiro: "We take the left."
Aetheria nodded, but she did not release her grip on Kyoichiiro's arm. In fact, she held on tighter. Her entire arm wrapped around Kyoichiiro's right arm, as if she were afraid of getting lost if she let go.
Aetheria: (A small voice, barely audible) "I'm... scared."
Kyoichiiro: (Not pulling away, not pushing. He just let Aetheria hold him) "I know. But we have to keep walking."
They entered the left passage.
This passage was narrower than the previous one. The walls were closer, nearly touching their shoulders if they walked side by side. Kyoichiiro had to walk in front, Aetheria behind him with her arm still wrapped around his, and Amura behind her, with sword drawn and his fireball now smaller—he had reduced its size to avoid attracting unwanted attention.
They walked in silence, broken only by the whispers that grew louder. Now, the whispers were almost like people talking in the next room—unclear, but close enough to make the hair stand on end.
Fifteen minutes passed.
And ahead of them, from beyond the darkness, another sound began to be heard. Not whispers. Not dripping water. But the sound of footsteps. Many footsteps. Heavy. Irregular. Like a group of people walking with unsynchronized steps—some fast, some slow, some heavy, some light. But all heading in the same direction.
Toward them.
Kyoichiiro: (Stopping suddenly, his hand raised back to signal a halt) "Someone's coming. Put out the fire."
Amura didn't ask. His palm clenched, and the fireball went out instantly. Total darkness enveloped them. Only the whispers remained—and the approaching footsteps.
Kyoichiiro: (Whispering, very softly) "To the side. Find a hiding place."
They moved to the left side of the passage, where there was a small alcove—perhaps from a collapse, perhaps a place deliberately made for hiding. No one knew. What mattered was that the alcove was deep enough to hold the three of them, and dark enough to conceal them from view.
They crowded into the alcove. Aetheria's body shivered beside Kyoichiiro, one hand still holding his arm, the other covering her mouth to muffle her breathing. Amura stood on the other side, his sword in front of his chest, ready to swing at any moment.
From the end of the passage, light began to appear. Not bright light, but a faint greenish glow—the same as the light they had seen beyond the iron gate, but brighter. Closer.
And behind that light, shadows began to emerge. They walked in a group, about eight or nine figures—or not figures. Because they all wore long black robes covering their entire bodies, from head to toe. The hoods revealed not a single patch of skin. Even as they walked, there was no sound of rustling fabric. No breath sounds. Only heavy, irregular footsteps.
Kyoichiiro: (To himself, his eyes unblinking as he observed) Are they... the same as the ones we saw above? Or different?
The hooded figures walked straight ahead, passing the alcove where they hid, not turning, not slowing. They seemed unaware of Kyoichiiro and the others' presence.
And as they passed, Kyoichiiro could hear sounds coming from beneath their hoods. Not human language. Not any language he had ever heard. But he could describe it: like the sound of boiling water, but softer; like the sound of sand rubbing together, but more rhythmic. And interspersed with those sounds, words that were almost recognizable, but not quite. Like hearing a conversation from behind a thick wall.
Voice from the Hooded Figures: (In unison, or nearly in unison) "Guuueeraaasui... riuuua... shakkaa... vorthu..."
Aetheria: (Covering her mouth tighter, her eyes welling up)
Amura: (His hand on his sword hilt clenching, but he did not move)
Kyoichiiro: (Silent, not breathing)
The figures kept walking. One by one, they passed the alcove, until the last one—the slowest walker—was nearly parallel with their hiding spot. And for a moment, Kyoichiiro could see beyond the hood.
Nothing. Only darkness. But a living darkness. As if something moved within it, invisible.
Then, the last figure passed. Its footsteps began to recede. Their strange voices began to fade. The greenish glow they carried also dimmed, swallowed by the passage's darkness.
Kyoichiiro: (Whispering, once he was sure they were far enough) "We follow them. From behind. Keep our distance."
Amura: (Nodding, his fireball not relit—they would walk in darkness, relying on their hearing)
Aetheria: (Still holding Kyoichiiro's arm, not letting go)
They emerged from the alcove and began walking in the direction the hooded figures had gone. Kyoichiiro in front, Aetheria beside him, Amura behind. They walked slowly, trying not to make noise. Their feet stepped on the damp earth, avoiding small stones or twigs that might crackle.
The hooded figures walked straight, not turning. They seemed to have a destination—and the more Kyoichiiro followed them, the more certain he became that the destination was the center of this place. The place where the slaves were kept. The place where something darker than mere human trafficking occurred.
But suddenly, they stopped.
All of them. Instantly. As if frozen by an invisible command. No one moved. No one made a sound. Even the greenish glow they carried stopped pulsing.
Kyoichiiro: (Stopping as well, his hand raised back in signal)
Amura and Aetheria stopped. They didn't move. Didn't breathe.
Seconds passed. Five. Ten. Fifteen.
The hooded figures remained still. Frozen. Like statues that had suddenly lost their life.
Kyoichiiro: (To himself, his vigilance spiking) Something's wrong. They know we're here. Or... they heard something.
He looked around, searching for a hiding place. On the left side of the passage, there was a pile of rubble—perhaps remnants of a collapsed wall. Not very large, but enough to conceal them if they crouched behind it.
Kyoichiiro: (Whispering, very softly) "Over there. Quiet. Don't make a sound."
They moved slowly, step by step, toward the pile of rubble. Aetheria nearly stumbled, but Kyoichiiro caught her before she fell, pulling her behind the stones. Amura followed, his sword still drawn.
They crouched behind the rubble, only their heads slightly visible through gaps in the stones. From here, they could still see the hooded figures standing frozen in the middle of the passage.
One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.
And then, Kyoichiiro felt it. Not with his eyes, but with his instincts. A presence. Beside him. To his left. Very close.
He turned slowly.
A hooded figure stood beside him. Only an arm's length away. Its black hood tilted slightly downward, as if staring—though there were no eyes to stare with.
Kyoichiiro: (His heart stopped beating for a moment)
Aetheria: (A small squeak—barely audible, but enough to break the silence)
Amura: (Reflexively swinging his sword, but Kyoichiiro caught his hand)
Kyoichiiro: (To himself) Don't. If we attack, the others will come.
The hooded figure did not move. Did not attack. It just stood there, silent, frozen. From beneath its hood, a strange sound emerged—soft, like a whisper, but not like the whispers they had heard before.
Hooded Figure: (Soft, barely audible) "Guuueeraa... suiii..."
Kyoichiiro didn't understand. But he felt something. A question? Or a warning? Or perhaps merely a greeting?
But there was no time to find out.
Amura: (Whispering, his voice tense) "We have to go. Now."
Kyoichiiro: (Nodding) "Run. Don't look back."
No need to repeat. The three of them rose and ran. Amura activated his speed magic—cold wind enveloped their feet, muffling their footsteps, accelerating their movements. They shot past the hooded figure still standing frozen, past the dark passage, turned right, then left, then right again. Kyoichiiro didn't know where they were running. All he knew was that they had to get away. As far as possible.
Amura's fireball ignited again, illuminating the passages they passed. No sign of the hooded figures pursuing. But Kyoichiiro didn't dare stop.
They ran. And ran. And ran.
Until finally, they reached a different room. This room had no exit passages—only walls on all sides. But in the center of the room, there was something. An altar. A large stone carved into a rectangular table, with strange carvings on its surface.
And on that altar, a body lay still.
Not moving. Not breathing. No signs of life.
Aetheria: (Panting, her voice breaking) "That's... that's..."
Amura: (Approaching, his fireball illuminating the figure's face)
Kyoichiiro: (Standing before the altar, his eyes fixed on that face)
The face of a girl. Perhaps Aetheria's age. Her long black hair was tangled, dirty. Her eyes were tightly shut, her lips bluish. Around her neck—like Elunie—was an iron chain with a deep purple magical circle. But not only around her neck. Around her wrists and ankles too.
And on her chest, over her torn dress, was carved a symbol. The same symbol they had seen on the wooden box near the iron gate.
Kyoichiiro: (Whispering) "Is she... still alive?"
Aetheria: (Crouching beside the altar, her trembling hand touching the girl's wrist) "There's... there's a pulse. Very weak, but there."
Amura: (Looking around, alert) "We can't stay here long. If they realize we escaped—"
Kyoichiiro: (Cutting in, his voice firm) "We're taking her. Aetheria, remove the chains. I'll hold the door."
Aetheria: (Nodding, her hands beginning to glow with golden light)
Kyoichiiro walked to the room's entrance—the only door connecting this room to the passage. He stood there, katana drawn, his eyes staring into the darkness of the passage.
No one came. Not yet.
But he knew, somewhere in those dark passages, the hooded figures were beginning to move again. And they knew someone had entered their territory.
They only had a little time.