A stillness settled over the room, palpable in the widened eyes of both Amara and Jareth as they heard an unexpected sound—a woman’s voice, cruel and haunting, emanating from the young noble’s mouth. It carried a disconcerting quality, as though she regarded them as nothing more than prey in a twisted game, to be hunted and played with until her thirst was sated.

‘Why does the young master’s voice sound like a woman? Is this what he mentioned earlier about not being in control of his body?

I just hope he hasn’t been possessed by spirits slain by that dagger of his.

This situation is becoming increasingly unnerving!’

Though gripped by fear, Amara could only press her lips tightly together as cold sweat formed on her forehead, betraying her unease. It was undeniable that she was terrified, feeling as if a knife was on her throat, ready to slit it if she dared to move or speak.

Glancing at the old man, Amara breathed a sigh of relief. Having him next to her provided a sense of comfort she hadn’t anticipated. It was unexpected that this dangerous and lethal man would become a source of refuge in such a terrifying moment.

‘Why is he unusually quiet? His behavior seems rather weird.

Could he also be experiencing fear? If so, it wouldn’t be unexpected. I’m scared as well.’

Squinting her eyes at the mercenary, who just kept staring at the boy, Amara couldn’t tell if he was merely assessing the danger or if something had happened to him. A growing unease gnawed at her, hinting in her gut that it might indeed be the latter.

“Instead of the warmth of a welcome, I was met with stares. Tsk, it seems I’m not desired here,” the creature taunted, her voice a blend of hurt and rejection, yet her grin remained, oozing with cruel satisfaction and a sinister allure. “Both of you are such poor hosts.”

‘There is a strange melody to her words, drawing me in and tempting me to like her—no, to love this creature.’

Amara swallowed hard, a shiver running down her spine as she found the creature’s voice deeply unsettling. It wasn’t just the tone, but the subtle nuances that sent a chill through her. There was a haunting allure to the faint beauty of her whisper, coupled with a hidden edge that hinted at something darker. She couldn’t quite put it in words, but something about it gave her the creeps, causing the hairs on her neck to stand on end and stirring a primal sense of dread deep within her core.

‘She’s terrifying.

Hmm…

It’s undeniable that her voice is indeed hauntingly beautiful, so soft and soothing that I could lose myself in its melody for hours. It’s like a sweet lullaby, easing all the pain and misery I’m feeling right now…

Help me forget…

I’ve never encountered something so captivating before. Her voice is very pretty. Her real face must be gorgeous also. Just the thought of it makes my heart beat faster.

I don’t know why… Why do I find myself drawn to her?

Am I starting to fall for…

No…

No, stop it!

What madness am I thinking?! Layla just died!

Layla?!

Yes, Layla.’

Amara’s eyes suddenly widened as she recalled her friend's sad smile, feeling the sharp pang of grief from her loss. She missed her badly. Clutching onto that pain, she refused to succumb to the false sense of comfort that threatened to engulf her, fully aware that it only led towards her inevitable doom.

Snapping out of the enticing embrace of the creature's voice, Amara’s senses abruptly returned as though awakening from a deep slumber. With a quick glance around the room, she took in her surroundings. Her body was drenched in a cold sweat, the lingering effects of the recent passing rain only adding to the already cold air. The chilly night breeze, gentle yet encompassing, caressed her skin, making her tremble uncontrollably.

‘Sh*t! This crazy b*tch!’

Her fear forgotten, Amara released a low growl at the creature, staring at her smug face as though she had them in her hands. Fully aware of the creature's intent, she knew that if she didn’t take action, things would get really dangerous for her and the old man.

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The creature turned her attention to the young woman. Surprised by the defiance in her eyes, she furrowed her brow, displeasure clear on her face. However, her momentary display of irritation didn’t last long; soon, her flawless seductive smile graced her lips once more, like a mask slipping seamlessly back into place as if it had always belonged there.

“What do we have here?” the creature said, her voice playful but full of malice. “Ah, what a rare and exquisite specimen you are,” she remarked, her eyes exclaiming with a twisted fascination as she admired the young woman’s beauty. “Come here, child. Don’t be shy. You’re much better suited for me than this small and hideous boy.”

With gritted teeth and a determined glare, Amara slowly rose to her feet, not letting her gaze wander away from the creature.

“What a delightful child you are,” she muttered, her tone dripping with sinister satisfaction. “I truly adore obedient little ones like you. Come closer now, my dear, and let my eyes feast on every inch of your exquisite being.”

‘I just hope he won’t be mad and kill me.’

Glancing at the creature, Amara’s eyes suddenly blazed with hatred as she clenched her teeth. “Not a chance, you vile witch!” she spat, biting down on her lip until it bled, the metallic taste mingling with her fury, giving her the will to resist. Suddenly, she sprinted towards the old man, still ensnared in a trance. With all her strength, she slapped him across the face, the sharp sound reverberating through the room.

At first, Amara thought she might have gone overboard with the force of her slap, but instead, her hand recoiled, followed by a dull ache. Groaning in pain, she examined the man’s cheeks, wondering if she had struck metal instead.

‘Ouch, that hurts! Did my slap even do anything? Or did I just injure myself for no reason?’

“What do you think you’re doing, child?!” she exclaimed, fury evident in her voice. “Cease this impudence immediately, or I’ll truly be angry with you!” she shrieked, her words cutting through the air with a menacing edge.

The creature’s voice was akin to shards of glass scraping against Amara’s eardrums, forcing her to her knees. She screamed, desperately covering her ears in a futile attempt to shield herself from the agonizing sound. Yet, despite her efforts, it persisted, easily penetrating through her trembling fingers.

“What’s happening?!” Jareth questioned, blinking in confusion. Suddenly, he covered his ears from the screeching noise. Rather than yielding to the pain, this jolted him awake. Gritting his teeth, he examined the boy, and with a single glance into his eyes, he knew that it wasn’t Elysian.

‘Finally!’

“O-Old man, h-her voice,” Amara stammered, her eyes wide with desperation as she gazed at the mercenary, a glimmer of hope within them. “H-Her voice has to p-power to control a person.”

Glancing at the girl next to him, Jareth sighed, irritated with himself. Retrieving glyphs from his pouch, these were far more potent versions than the ones he hastily used earlier that morning. Imbuing his aura into them, he perfectly threw them around the boy with the practiced precision of a seasoned cultivator.

“What do you think you’re doing, you pathetic wretch!?” the creature hissed, her voice dripping with malice. When the old man didn’t stop, she unleashed another ear-piercing shriek, even louder than before. It reverberated throughout the room, shattering not only the windows in the vicinity but also those in the adjacent room. “Cease this madness, right now!”

Suddenly, the glyphs flared into a brilliant light, forming a protective dome around Elysian’s body. Well, you could say it was more of a cage, imprisoning the creature within.

“You will pay for this…” the creature screamed, but her voice suddenly disappeared, suppressed by the barrier enacted by the mercenary.

‘Take that, you witch!

Amara watched with a mixture of fear and fascination as the creature continued to howl and scream within the confines of the protective barrier. The intensity of its fury is palpable, radiating from its every movement and expression, even from a distance. If mere looks could kill, they would have died long ago under the weight of the creature’s malevolence. Its gaze bore into them with a chilling intensity, filled with nothing but pure, unadulterated hatred.

‘Finally, it's done!

Amara breathed a long, ragged sigh of relief and exhaustion as she allowed herself to fall onto her back, sprawling on the floor. The cool surface against her skin offered a soothing embrace, a welcome respite following the intense ordeal she had just endured.

‘I really hate this night! I can’t catch a break, not even to mourn my friend in peace.

Well, at least this is done. I can finally allow myself… Even if just for a moment.’

“Hey,” Jareth said, awkwardly glancing at the young woman on the floor. He hesitated, a furrow forming on his brow as he contemplated his next words. “Hmm…”

‘Darn it! I spoke too soon. He’s not upset about my slap, is he?’

Slowly turning her head to the mercenary, Amara forced a smile to appear relaxed, though it twisted into an anxious grimace, betraying her true feelings of dread. Her lips quivered as she struggled to appear composed. “H-Hi,” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper as she swallowed hard. “S-Sorry…”

“Sorry?” Jareth repeated, blinking a couple of times, confusion showing on his weathered face. However, it swiftly transformed into a grin, the lines on his face deepening with amusement as he noticed the fear in Amara’s eyes. “Ah..” he stated, raising a grizzled brow at the young woman. “Do you even know what you’ve done wrong, lass?”

“I-I don’t…” Amara stammered again, her voice trembling with uncertainty. She hesitated, apprehensive under the weight of the mercenary’s scrutiny. Gulping hard, she gathered her courage and quickly pressed on, her words rushed and breathless. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to slap you so hard in the face.”

The young woman’s anxious reply was met with a roaring laughter from the old man. Clutching his sides, Jareth laughed so hard that it nearly dropped him to the floor. If she had succeeded in bringing him to his knees, this would indeed be a remarkable feat, as so few had managed to achieve it.

“I haven’t laughed this hard in ages, lass,” Jareth remarked, attempting to stifle his laughter. The image of Elysian suddenly flashed in his mind, souring his mood. Turning his attention back to the boy, still under the influence of that foul creature, he continued with a somber tone, “Though, I suppose that’s not entirely accurate. That boy had me cackling earlier, but now…”

“Will he be alright, sir?” Amara inquired, her words carrying a note of concern as she cast a worried glance at the boy.

“I don’t know, lass. I truly don’t,” Jareth responded, his voice weary and filled with concern, as if he had aged years just this night. Exhaling deeply, he added, “We’ve done all we could. It’s in his hands now.”

Turning to the girl again, the mercenary offered a genuine smile of gratitude. “Thank you, lass. If it weren’t for you, we’d be in a lot of trouble.” His gaze shifted to her reddened hand. “Is your hand okay, by the way?”

----------------------------------------

“Where am I?” Elysian asked, his voice filled with confusion as he glanced around. The first thing he noticed was that he was bound to a weathered tree, his arms tied and spread while his feet dangled freely. Under him, the ground was covered in blood, resembling a still lake with crimson ripples emanating from the blood dripping from his feet. As he looked closer, he realized the blood was flowing from his injured hand, caused by the relic earlier.

‘Sh*t! You’ve got to be kidding me! Am I in a f*cking horror story?!’