I Can Hear You: Two Worlds Apart

Chapter Seven: Whispers in the Shadows

Lydia looked up at the face of a beast, a feral creature wrapped in an aura of raw power. His features were sharp and intimidating, a visage carved from stone and shadow, with cold, piercing eyes that seemed to draw the warmth from the air. There was no tenderness in the way he held her—his arms were solid, unyielding, and his expression was as distant as the winter sky. And yet, beneath that frost, there was a flicker of something more, something Lydia couldn't quite name. It was an emotion she didn't recognize, a feeling hovering at the edge of his presence, like a storm cloud waiting to break.

she lay cradled in his arms, Lydia was too overwhelmed to speak. The questions bubbling up in her mind—Where am I? Who is this creature?—were stifled by the weight of his silent power. She feared that if she dared to ask, this beast would respond with his own questions, ones she had no answers for. So, instead, she kept her mouth shut and turned her attention to the room around her, taking in every small detail, hoping it might distract her from the throbbing pain in her ribs.

The lamps scattered throughout the room caught her attention first. They were unlike any lights she had ever seen, crafted from a delicate, gossamer-like fabric that shimmered in every color of the rainbow. The hues weren't static; they shifted and pulsed, casting soft, vibrant glows across the walls. As the colors danced, they filled the air with a sound—soft, like leaves rustling in a distant forest, a gentle whisper of nature that was both calming and eerie.

Lydia's gaze drifted upward, and her breath caught in her throat. The ceiling wasn't just a ceiling—it was alive, a moving tapestry of ocean waves rolling endlessly above her head. Blue-green water surged and crashed against an invisible shore, foam bubbling along the edges of each wave as they receded. The scene was mesmerizing, and for a moment, Lydia forgot about her pain, lost in the beauty of the strange magic that filled the room. She winced as another sharp stab of pain shot through her side, but even that couldn't pull her attention away from the surreal sight above her.

"What kind of place is this?" she wondered, her voice no more than a faint whisper in her mind. She barely had time to process the question before the beast—Ichimarou, as she had overheard—dumped her unceremoniously onto the bed.

The impact sent a shockwave of agony through her body, pain exploding in her chest and radiating out to every limb. Lydia gasped, clutching her side as her vision blurred, spots of light dancing before her eyes. She tried to sit up, to glare at the creature standing beside her, but her body wouldn't cooperate. She slumped back onto the bed, her breaths shallow and labored, and her only solace was the memory of the ocean waves above her head.

Through the haze of pain, Lydia felt his gaze on her—those cruel, indifferent eyes watching her every move. She could sense his mind working, calculating, but she didn't need to see his face to know he wasn't concerned about her well-being. He was analyzing her, trying to figure out what to do next, and for the first time in her life, Lydia didn't shy away from someone else's thoughts. Normally, the constant barrage of other people's inner voices was unbearable, but now, she reached for it—she needed to know what this creature was thinking.

Lydia closed her eyes, concentrating. She had never done this intentionally before, but she had to try. She pushed her awareness out toward him, reaching with her mind the way she had read about in novels, as if extending invisible tendrils to brush against the edges of his thoughts. At first, she felt nothing—just the emptiness of space between them. But then, slowly, she made contact.

Her entire body recoiled as if she had touched an electrified fence. Ichimarou's mind was like jagged shards of ice, sharp and unyielding. As soon as she touched it, her brain felt like it had been plunged into freezing water, tiny pinpricks of cold stabbing her from the inside. She cried out, curling into herself, her body trembling from the shock.

The creature didn't move. He stood there, watching her with the same detached curiosity as before, unmoved by her suffering.

Lydia's mind raced as she lay there in the fetal position, her ribs screaming in protest with every breath. This wasn't a dream, was it? No, dreams didn't hurt like this. What kind of twisted reality had she been thrown into? And why? She had jumped from that building—she should be dead, or at least unconscious in some hospital. But instead, she was here, wherever here was, with this cold, terrifying creature. Was this the afterlife? Or had she stumbled into some alternate dimension?

The air in the room shifted, growing warmer as a new presence entered. Lydia lifted her head weakly and saw a door she hadn't noticed before, one covered in twisting ivy and delicate violet-blue flowers. The ivy parted, and three figures stepped through, moving as one.

They were unlike anything Lydia had ever seen—tall, willowy women with skin the color of freshly fallen snow and hair so long it trailed behind them, a pale green-grey that shimmered like silk. Their eyes were impossibly large, round pools of blue with no visible irises, and their lips were plush and pink, like freshly spun cotton candy. They were beautiful in an otherworldly way, as if they had stepped out of a painting or an anime. But there was something unsettling about them, too—the way they moved in perfect unison, their expressions unreadable as they glided toward the bed.

"Master Ichimarou," they said in perfect harmony, their voices light and melodic, "the bath is ready for your guest."

Ichimarou nodded, his attention still fixed on Lydia. "Thank you, Remi," he replied. "See to it that she is bathed and that the healer tends to her injuries."

Lydia's heart raced, fury mixing with her confusion. They were talking about her as if she weren't even there, as if she were some object to be tended to. She pushed herself up on one elbow, wincing as the movement sent another wave of pain through her chest.

"I don't want to bathe," she snapped, glaring at the triplets and Ichimarou. "I want answers. Where am I? What is this place? Who the hell are you?"

Her voice trembled with a mix of fear and anger, but she refused to back down. She was tired of being ignored, tired of being treated like a fragile doll. She deserved to know what was happening to her.

A wave of disdain hit her like a physical blow, but it didn't come from Ichimarou. It came from the triplets, their thoughts sharp and scathing.

"How dare she speak to Lord Ichimarou like that," one of them thought. "He saved her, and this is how she repays him?"

Lydia turned to them, her lips curling into a mocking smile. "I didn't ask to be saved," she said, her voice dripping with venom. "Maybe I wanted to fall. Did you ever think of that?"

She struggled to stand, her legs shaky and unsteady beneath her. Every movement was torture, but she refused to let them see her weakness. After what felt like an eternity of fumbling with the duvet and dragging herself upright, Lydia finally managed to get to her feet. She stood there, swaying slightly, clutching her ribs as the triplets stared at her in silent judgment.

Ichimarou remained still, his expression unreadable. But Lydia could feel his thoughts brushing against hers, probing her mind in a way that made her skin crawl. He was trying to understand her, to figure out why she was here, and why she seemed so...different.

Without warning, the air around them seemed to ripple, and another door appeared where the ivy-covered wall had been. The triplets moved toward it, gesturing for Lydia to follow.

"Come, human," one of them said, her voice cold and emotionless. "Your bath awaits."

Lydia glanced at Ichimarou, who gave a slight nod, and then back at the triplets. She didn't want to go with them—she didn't want to be left alone with these strange, otherworldly creatures. But the pain in her body was too much to bear, and the promise of warm water was tempting.

With a reluctant sigh, Lydia took a step forward, and the triplets moved to support her, their hands cold and delicate as they guided her toward the door.

Whatever was waiting for her on the other side, Lydia knew one thing for sure—her life would never be the same again.