Fate of deception

Chapter 40 - Umaizah's POV

The light from the door beckoned, spilling onto the floor like a thin slice of hope, almost too bright to be trusted. But in a room so thick with shadows that they felt like fingers grazing my skin, even a sliver of light was enough to make you reckless. I could feel Amir beside me, his presence a fragile comfort, a warmth I wanted to cling to, but I knew better. In a place like this, attachments felt like lead weights, and the more you leaned on someone, the easier it would be to sink together.

The door loomed closer, and I felt each step echo inside me, each one more final than the last. This mansion felt alive, watching, and each creak of the floorboards sounded like its breath, shallow and anticipatory. I didn't dare look back; I couldn't. Some irrational part of me believed that if I did, I'd see the walls closing in, the shadows stretching, swallowing the pieces of ourselves we'd left behind.

Amir's hand tightened around mine, his grip like iron, and I looked over at him, catching a flash of his profile cast in that eerie blue light. He was trying so hard to look fearless, but I could feel the tension in his shoulders, the barely concealed fear that pulsed through his veins as surely as it did mine. And somehow, that honesty in him—the way he let me see his fear—anchored me. It was one of the few things in this place that felt real.

As we reached the threshold of the door, I hesitated, feeling a shiver run down my spine. Crossing over felt like stepping into something far worse than what we'd already faced. But standing still, staying here in this suffocating room... that was an ending I couldn't accept.

The hallway beyond the door stretched out like a throat, narrow and lined with walls the color of rotting ivory. The air here was colder, thick with a smell that was both sweet and decayed, like flowers left too long in stagnant water. I had to force myself to breathe, each inhale scraping against my lungs like shards of ice. The door creaked shut behind us with a sound that felt final, sealing us into whatever fate lay ahead. The warmth of Amir's hand in mine faded as I let go, needing both hands free to steady myself.

"Do you think... anyone else will follow?" Amir's voice was barely a whisper, but it echoed down the hallway, bouncing off the walls as if the very air mocked the question. I looked back at the closed door, knowing that the others were still in there, trapped in their own fear, clinging to the safety of numbers.

"Maybe," I said, though I didn't believe it. Cowards, all of us. But wasn't that what fear did? Turned you into something small, selfish, too afraid to move? I was no different. My own fear clung to me like a second skin, a weight I had to force myself to carry with each step. But standing still would have meant giving in to whatever game the hostess had devised for us.

The hallway was longer than it looked, stretching out endlessly before us. Each step we took echoed, hollow and accusing, as if reminding us that our choices were being watched, tallied, maybe even graded. And with every step, I felt the weight of unseen eyes pressing down, stripping me bare. I swallowed hard, a bitter taste lingering on my tongue as I forced myself forward.

"Did you hear that?" Amir's voice was tense, a low whisper. We stopped, listening. For a moment, there was nothing but silence, thick and heavy. Then—there it was. A faint whisper, low and rasping, threading through the walls. Words, just out of reach, like a voice trapped in a well. My stomach twisted, a dark premonition settling in my bones.

"What do you think it is?" he asked, his voice barely holding back the tremor.

"Whatever it is, it knows we're here," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. But even as I said it, I knew the truth: this place had been built for us. Every door, every hallway, every flickering light had been set up like a stage. The feeling gnawed at me, something primal and instinctive, a warning like the taste of smoke in the air before a fire.

The whispers grew louder, seeming to drift from all directions now, filling the hallway.