Chapter 2 — Echoes and Secrets
Amelia Blackwood
The night had settled heavily over Blackthorn, its oppressive darkness amplifying the unease that had rooted itself in Amelia’s chest. She sat curled on the worn armchair by the frost-covered window, its cracked leather cold against her palms. Outside, the fog had thickened, transforming the familiar streets into shadowed corridors. The whispers were quieter now, but their presence still lingered like a faint, persistent hum at the base of her skull. They felt more than a warning, more like an invitation—an insistence she couldn’t quite ignore, as if something ancient was rising from the depths of Blackthorn’s silence.
Her mother’s voice broke the fragile stillness of the room.
“Amelia.” Evelyn Blackwood’s tone was sharp, punctuated by the clink of her teacup against the saucer. She stood by the kitchen counter, her pale hands steady as she placed the cup down. “I don’t want you going anywhere near the woods. Do you understand?”
Amelia looked up, her silvery-gray eyes locking onto her mother’s. Evelyn’s face was carefully blank, but the tension in her shoulders betrayed her unease. The light from the dim kitchen bulb cast shadows across the lines of her face, deepening the quiet fear etched there.
“You already said that,” Amelia replied softly, her voice tinged with quiet frustration. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “But you’re not telling me why.”
Evelyn’s grip tightened on the counter’s edge, her knuckles turning white. “You know why. It’s dangerous.”
A flicker of anger sparked in Amelia’s chest. “Dangerous,” she repeated flatly, her gaze unwavering. “Because of the curse?” The word hung heavy in the air, daring Evelyn to confirm it. When her mother turned away, fussing with an already-clean dish, Amelia pressed harder. “It’s not just about the woods, is it? It’s about the whispers. About what’s happening to me.”
Evelyn froze, her back stiff. “Amelia, please. Just trust me and stay away.”
“Trust you?” Amelia’s voice broke, her tone low and sharp, the words spilling out before she could stop them. “How can I trust you when you won’t tell me anything? You’ve been hiding things my whole life, Mom. About Dad. About our family. About... this.” The hum of the whispers sharpened, as if responding to the crack in her composure. Amelia clenched her fists, grounding herself before the static overwhelmed her.
Evelyn turned then, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’m trying to protect you,” she said, her voice trembling. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with—what we’ve already lost.”
There it was. A shadow of something raw, a slip in Evelyn’s carefully constructed armor. Amelia latched onto it. “Then tell me. Tell me what you’ve lost. Tell me what I’m supposed to be so afraid of. Because I can’t—” Her words faltered, the weight of the whispers pressing against her skull. She exhaled shakily, her voice softening. “I can’t live like this.”
Evelyn’s expression softened, but the walls around her remained firmly in place. “Sometimes the less you know, the safer you are.”
Amelia stared at her, the familiar ache of disappointment settling in her chest. The whispers hummed louder, agitated and restless, their fragmented phrases brushing against her consciousness like wind through the cracks of an old, forgotten house. *Blood owed. Secrets buried.*
She wanted to scream, to demand answers, but she knew it would be useless. Evelyn’s silence was an unmovable force, a wall that Amelia had spent years battering against to no avail. Without another word, she grabbed her coat and left the house, the cold night air biting at her skin.
---
The forest loomed ahead of her, its twisted branches clawing at the sky. She hesitated at the edge of the woods, her breath visible in the icy air. Her mother’s warnings replayed in her mind, the faint echo of her voice mingling with the whispers. For a moment, Amelia considered turning back, the weight of fear settling in her chest like a stone.
But the whispers pulled at her, insistent and unrelenting, their fragmented voices weaving through her thoughts. *Danger. Guilt. Truth.* The fragments felt sharper now, clearer, as though they were drawing her toward something she couldn’t yet see. She tightened her coat around herself and stepped forward, the damp, heavy air swallowing her whole.
The air carried the scent of moss and decay, and her boots crunched against the frozen underbrush, each sound amplified in the unnatural stillness. The deeper she ventured, the stronger the whispers became, their voices threading through the dark spaces between the trees. Shadows seemed to shift unnaturally, the mist curling around her ankles like living tendrils.
Amelia paused, glancing over her shoulder, half-expecting to see someone—or something—following her. But there was only the mist, curling and twisting as if it had a will of its own.
“Amelia.”
She spun around, her heart leaping into her throat. The figure emerged from the shadows with an unsettling ease, his dark coat blending into the trees. Cassian Holt. His green eyes glinted in the moonlight, sharp and calculating, as if he could see straight through her.
“You shouldn’t be out here,” he said, his voice low and calm.
Amelia took a step back, her pulse racing. “You’re the man from the diner,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. Her eyes flicked to the jagged scar on his jawline, an unmistakable marker she hadn’t noticed so clearly before. “Who are you? And why are you following me?”
Cassian tilted his head, the faintest flicker of amusement crossing his face before vanishing. “I could ask you the same thing. Wandering into the woods alone at night? Not exactly a smart move.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t deflect. You knew about the whispers. How?”
His lips curved into an almost mocking smile, but his tone shifted, suddenly serious. “Because I’ve heard them too.”
Amelia’s breath caught. “What do you mean? How... how is that possible?”
Cassian took a step closer, his movements deliberate yet non-threatening. “Let’s just say I have my own connections to the curse. To the whispers. And to the truth you’re so desperately looking for.”
Her stomach twisted, a strange mix of fear and hope tangling in her chest. “What truth?”
“That you’re not just a victim of the whispers,” he said, his voice softening. “You’re a part of them. Just like your family has always been a part of this curse.”
Amelia stepped back, the weight of his words sinking in like stones. “You’re lying.”
He shrugged, his gaze unwavering. “Believe what you want. But you wouldn’t be out here if you didn’t already know it’s true.”
The whispers surged, their chaotic murmurings wrapping around Amelia like a vice. She pressed her hands to her temples, trying to block them out. “If you know so much,” she said through gritted teeth, “then tell me what they’re saying. Tell me what they want.”
“They want justice,” Cassian said simply. “But justice isn’t always clean or kind. Sometimes it’s messy. And sometimes, it demands a price.”
A chill ran down her spine. “What price?”
“That depends on you,” he said, his tone unreadable. “But if you want answers, you’ll have to decide how much you’re willing to sacrifice.”
Amelia stared at him, her mind racing. She didn’t trust him—couldn’t trust him—but his words struck a chord she couldn’t ignore. The whispers seemed to pulse in agreement, their fragmented voices brushing against her consciousness. *Blood owed. Secrets buried.*
Before she could respond, Cassian turned and began walking away, his figure quickly swallowed by the mist. He didn’t look back, but his parting words lingered in the air.
“Be careful, Amelia. The truth has a way of changing people.”
She stood there for a long moment, her breath shallow and her thoughts tangled. The forest felt alive around her, its shadows shifting and stretching as if reaching for her. The whispers had quieted, but their presence remained, a constant reminder of the burden she carried.
Amelia pulled her coat tighter around herself and turned back toward town. Her mother’s warnings echoed in her mind, mingling with Cassian’s cryptic words. She didn’t know what she would do next—only that she couldn’t stop now. The truth was out there, waiting for her. And she would find it, no matter the cost.
