WHISPERS OF THE ABYSS

It was silence that smothered her in the room. Lyra did nothing but stand upright, leaning her back against the cold wall and staring blankly at the door that had just closed behind Dante. Her heart was now heavy in her ribcage, having sat there a while; it was like an anchor that dove deep into the abyss which a stranger had warned her of.

All she had wanted was the truth. She had begged for it, but now that it was clawing its way into the light, she wasn't so sure she wanted to face it.

Lyra's hands still shook with the weight of his touch. The warmth of his fingers to her shoulder had lingered long enough to remind her of the man she thought she knew-the man she once loved. But that man was a stranger to her now.

Her eyes, roaming around the room, searched for something, anything, to moor her in this sea of thoughts. Her gaze finally came to rest on the mirror by the door. It reflected back an image, but the woman in the glass was no longer one she knew. The dark circles under her eyes, the pale skin, the fear swimming in her expression-all spoke volumes of the woman who was falling apart.

With a deep breath, she tried to steady herself, but each breath felt like a shard of glass being inhaled. The words of that stranger-what was it he had said?-rang within her mind: "You're more than his wife-you're the key to it all.".

The key to what?

Lyra pushed herself off the wall and began to pace across the room, her mind racing to put together the last couple of minutes. Dante had been keeping secrets from her, but to what extent? How far back did the lies stretch?

She needed answers, and she needed them now.

And with that, she said nothing more but strode over to the door and yanked it open. The corridor beyond was dimly lit and stretched down through long, dark shadows reaching out like dark fingers. She had absolutely no idea where she was going, but somehow her feet seemed to take her in that direction with a purpose.

Rounding the corner, she heard voices-a low, hushed conversation. Instinctively, she stopped and pressed herself against the wall. The voices grew clearer, her stomach twisting as she recognised one of them. Dante.

.She's starting to ask questions," Dante said, his voice strained. "I hadn't expected him to show up this soon.

Another voice said- one Lyra did not know. It was a voice of calm, of measure. "You knew this day would come. You can't keep her in the dark forever. She'll figure it out.

"She doesn't have to know everything," Dante whispered hoarsely. "Not yet. She's not ready."

Lyra's blood was running cold. They were talking about her; discussing her as if she were some kind of puzzle for them to piece together, or worse-a piece in whatever game they were playing. She pressed her hand to her mouth, stifling the gasp that threatened to escape.

The other man spoke again. "If you don't tell her, someone else will. And when that happens, she won't trust you anymore."

"She's mine to take care of," Dante said, his voice taking on a hard tone. "No one else."

The other man didn't say anything more for several moments, this time softer. "Just remember-Dante, you won't be able to keep the truth from her forever, and if she finds it that way, it will destroy her.".

Lyra's heart quickened. She's going to destroy the truth.

She couldn't just stand there and keep listening to them speak about her as if she had no say, no power. She had been in the dark for far too long, but not anymore. She would find out the truth for herself, no matter how deep the rabbit hole went.

With the pulse hammering in her ears, Lyra turned and hurried down the hall, not knowing where she was going, but knowing she needed to be far away from Dante and all the lies that surrounded him.

Now, in the house, the weight in the air was heavier, as if even the walls closed in on her. Every shadow now seemed alive, as if every creak of the floorboards warned her of something. Yet Lyra pressed on, determined to uncover secrets kept from her for so long. Coming down the staircase, several speculations ran through her mind. Who was this stranger? What did he mean by 'key'? And what had Dante been hiding from her all this time?

The deeper she went into the house, the colder it seemed to get. The warmth of hearths and chandeliers gave way to the insidious chill of lower and lower floors until Lyra found herself in that part of the mansion she hardly ever entered.

Before her, one door loomed heavy and ancient, its brass handle gleaming faintly in the dim light; something about it drew her in, moth to flame. She went ahead, her hand outing to grope for the handle. She hesitated a moment, fear gnawing at her resolve, then turned the knob and pushed the door open.

Beyond that, the room was dark, lit only by a few flickering candles. But it wasn't the dim light or even the cold draft that cut through the room that stopped Lyra in her tracks-it was the walls lined with books. Very old books, whose leather spines were cracked and worn with age, sat on shelves that ran from the floor to the ceiling.

In the center of the room, a large wooden desk sat cluttered with papers, maps, and something else-something that ran a shiver down her spine. A little ornately carved box lay upon the desk, half-open, its contents within shadow. Lyra surged forward, her heart wildly racing in her chest. She did not know what to expect, exactly, but something hit her gut with the feeling that whatever was inside that box held the answers she had been searching for. With shaking fingers, she reached for the lid and slowly lifted it to show what was beneath. Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes came to rest on the object inside a small, silver key glinting faintly in the candlelight. Lemme know how you feel about this beginning of chapter five and whether you'd like me to continue in this direction!