Chapter 06: Whispers in the Dark
The voice that had whispered in the darkness sent a cold shiver down Niamh’s spine. It wasn’t just a sound; it was a presence, something ancient, powerful, and unsettling. The ship seemed to groan under the weight of the silence, as if it were reacting to the voice that had seeped into its very bones.
Soren froze, his body tense and rigid. He reached for the flashlight at his belt, his fingers brushing the cold metal as his eyes darted around the pitch-black corridor. The hum had stopped, but the air itself felt charged—alive with a quiet, watchful energy. Niamh held her breath, straining to hear anything beyond the rhythmic thudding of her heart.
“Did you hear that?” she whispered, her voice trembling in the stillness.
Soren didn’t respond immediately. He seemed to be listening, his eyes narrowed as if trying to pick out any movement or sound from the oppressive blackness. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and steady, though there was an edge of something that betrayed his calm façade.
“I heard it,” he said. “But it’s not possible.”
Niamh frowned, her breath catching in her throat. “What do you mean? It sounded… real.”
“Real doesn’t explain why this place has been abandoned for centuries. And why—” He paused, his gaze flicking to the shadows that seemed to move at the edges of the corridor, though there was nothing physically there. “Why it’s still resonating with something.”
A knot of unease tightened in her stomach. The longer they lingered in the wreck, the more she felt the invisible presence pressing in on them, wrapping around them like a suffocating fog. Every creak of the ship seemed to echo in the hollow spaces of her mind, and the walls appeared to close in slightly, inch by inch.
“We need to keep moving,” Soren said, his voice snapping her from her thoughts. He turned quickly, striding forward as he gestured for her to follow. “Stay close.”
The two of them moved in near silence, their footsteps the only sound as they navigated the dark halls. Niamh’s mind raced as she tried to make sense of what had just happened. The voice—what had it meant? “Leave this place.” It was a warning, a command, but from where? Or who?
The deeper they ventured into the ship, the more surreal it felt. The walls began to pulse with faint, undulating lights that shimmered like distant stars, casting fleeting, ghostly shadows along the corridors. Niamh tried to focus, to remember why they had come here in the first place: to find something—anything—that could give them answers about the lost fleet. But each step seemed to bring them closer to something far more dangerous than mere knowledge.
They turned a corner, and Niamh stumbled, her foot catching on a piece of debris. She cursed under her breath, steadying herself with one hand against the wall. As she looked up, something caught her eye—something unusual, something out of place. At first, she couldn’t understand what she was seeing, but then it hit her: the floor was covered in symbols. Ancient markings, some glowing faintly, others barely visible beneath layers of grime and decay.
She crouched down to inspect them, her pulse quickening. The symbols were etched into the metal with a precision that was far beyond anything she had seen before. They were unlike any language she had encountered, yet there was a strange familiarity to them. A feeling of recognition—something buried deep in her memory.
“What is this?” she muttered to herself.
Soren turned to look over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the symbols. He approached slowly, a low growl of warning in his throat.
“Don’t touch them,” he said, his voice low. “These markings… they’re not just decorative. They’re part of a containment system. Something’s locked in here.”
Niamh’s hand hovered above the markings, her fingers tingling with the energy that seemed to radiate from them. “What do you mean, ‘locked in’?”
Soren’s gaze flicked to the walls, his eyes scanning every inch of the room. “I’ve heard rumors. There were stories about a long-lost sect of an ancient race that used this technology to trap dangerous entities. They were a lost civilization, one that vanished long before anyone knew what they were dealing with. Some say they never really disappeared… they’re still here. Trapped in places like this.”
Niamh felt a chill run through her as the words sunk in. “You think… we’ve found one of them?”
Soren didn’t answer immediately. His gaze lingered on the markings, as if he could sense the same unease in them that she felt. Then, without warning, he spun toward her.
“We need to get out of here. Now.”
The urgency in his voice spurred her into action. She didn’t question him—she didn’t need to. She could feel it, too. Whatever had been locked away in the ship, it was starting to stir, and the longer they stayed, the more dangerous it would become.
But just as she turned to follow Soren, a sharp, piercing sound sliced through the air—an unearthly shriek that rattled her bones. The very walls seemed to vibrate with the sound, and a tremor ran through the floor beneath their feet.
Niamh froze, her heart pounding in her chest. “What is that?”
Soren didn’t look back. His pace quickened, his movements more frantic. “That’s not a good sign.”
Before they could make another move, the lights flickered violently, then went out completely. They were plunged into total darkness, the cold weight of the unknown pressing in on them. The air was thick with something ancient, something that didn’t belong in the universe. The hum, the strange energy—everything was shifting, warping, as if the ship itself were coming alive.
“Run!” Soren shouted, grabbing Niamh’s arm and pulling her along.
They sprinted down the hallway, their footsteps echoing in the thick silence. But something was behind them—something that was growing closer, faster, relentlessly pursuing them.
The ship groaned under the pressure of the growing force, its hull shaking as if it were struggling to contain whatever had been awakened. Niamh glanced over her shoulder, her breath coming in ragged gasps, but all she saw were shadows—shifting, formless shapes that seemed to close in on them with each passing second.
They had to get out. They had to escape. But as they rounded the corner, the doorway ahead of them slammed shut with an earth-shattering noise.
It was too late.
The voice returned, clearer this time—closer. “Leave… or be consumed.”
Soren grabbed Niamh’s hand, pulling her into a narrow side passage just as the shadows closed in around them. They were trapped. The ship, it seemed, had no intention of letting them go.
