Whispering Caves の小説・ストーリー

Far enough to require travel, exotic enough to interest Killian, vague enough that not returning would be the fault of whimsical magic. I did it mentally, worked on it until I had gotten it just so, tone, rhythm, sense of conviction. "The Whispering Caves, Alpha. Where worlds are nearest one to the other. Where echoes of past ages are present in the air, and on wind whispers hide things. There in deepest caverns we should be able to discover some trace or an echo of this. Simon."

The cavern behind the waterfall wasn't just damp; it felt like stepping into the lungs of a dying god. The walls were lined with thousands of ancient, crystalline skulls that pulsed with a faint, rhythmic violet light—the Whispering Crypts. Every step we took echoed with a thousand overlapping murmurs, the residual memories of vampires who had been executed by the Progenitors over two millennia. "Valerius," Killian growled, his golden eyes scanning the ceiling where massive stalactites dripped with a thick, crimson fluid. "You said this was a shortcut. You didn't mention it was a goddamn graveyard."

Victor whispered into her ear, his gravelly voice sending a wild shiver straight down her spine. In one swift, powerful movement, Victor stepped off the ledge and plunged directly into the deep end of the pool. A loud splash echoed through the room as the heated blue water swallowed them whole. The shock of the water hit Serena instantly. Panic, cold and blinding, exploded in her chest. She couldn't swim. The moment her head went under, she lost all sense of direction. The water felt heavy, pulling her down into the deep, dark abyss. She opened her eyes underwater, seeing nothing but glowing blue bubbles and Victor's massive, dark shadow holding her.

(Isla’s POV) The drive out of Harbor Ridge felt unreal. I didn’t look back. Not at the skyline. Not at Mooncrest Manor. Not at the life I thought I had built. Lyra was quiet inside me — not broken, just watchful. The mate bond still existed. It hadn’t been severed. But it no longer felt like warmth. It felt like distance. Three hours later, Crescent Valley came into view — sprawling forests, stone guard towers, silver banners bearing our crest.

his voice dropped to a desperate whisper. "I don't know how I'm walking around" He reasoned "I don't know how I can still breathe and talk. I saw...I saw the cave.... It sits deep in the Mountain, away from all the trails, its hidden behind a cove of twisted trees... The entire rock wall is black... I - I never should of gone in there, inside, theres a fire... bright purple like a deep bruise.. it's...alive.. The things gather there, that's where they go. There's so many of them.. The cave, its magic."

Somehow I moved my gaze to the shadow dude, who had the decency to chuckle at my state. “If you’re thinking of jumping don't bother Love. You would have a long fall before hitting the rocks at the bottom of The Divide.” He crossed his arms “What a shame that would be too.” “The Divide?” I asked cautiously still unnerved. “You know the giant ravine leading to the mine? Even my grandmother could see it and she is blind as a bat.” The sapphire eyed male snarked rolled his eyes at me in distaste. “Thanks for the input.” I cut in icily eyeing the window. Maybe jumping to my death would be better than staying here.

POV: Rhea Mooncrest "Where is the ritual, Micah? It’s too quiet here." Rhea stopped in the center of the Whispering Stones—a circle of jagged, upright monoliths that looked like teeth pointing at the sky. The air was unnaturally still. There were no crickets, no wind, no sound of distant wolves. Micah stopped and turned to face her. He didn't look like a savior. He looked like a man walking to his own funeral. "I’m sorry, Rhea," he whispered.

We have no idea what is ahead”. As they descended more down the tunnels, the air became progressively damper and colder as they entered the caves. Strange marks, old runes that seemed to pulse with a faint, unsettling glow, covered the walls. The whispers started almost immediately; they were faint and gentle at first, but as they went on, they became louder and more forceful. Kyra shuddered. This isn't to my taste. We feel as though the walls are speaking to us." Eldon grimaced as he nodded. “There is ancient mysticism in these caverns. It's possible that the whispers are the remnants of old magic. We must maintain our focus."

The landscape was alien and foreboding, a surreal amalgamation of shifting shadows and fragmented structures that seemed perpetually on the verge of collapse. The air was thick with an unsettling stillness, broken only by the occasional whisper of forgotten memories. Each whisper was like a ghostly touch against her skin, a fleeting sensation that left her shivering. The whispers were disjointed, fragments of conversations, cries, and laughter that seemed to echo from the very walls of Nyxterra. They whispered her name in haunting, fragmented tones, urging her deeper into the darkness.