LOVER OF THE DEAD

Chapter 4: Presence of the Dead

The quiet of the house was deceptive, a silence so deep it felt like it might swallow her whole. Avriel gripped the old, dusty banister as she moved through the house's shadowed corridors, her footsteps muffled by the thick layer of dust. She felt like an intruder in her own skin, caught between fear and an intense pull that refused to let her leave.

Days had passed since she first felt his presence, yet she'd seen no glimpse of him since their encounter. Every flickering shadow, every whispered breeze felt like him watching, waiting, but he remained hidden, lingering just out of reach. And with each passing hour, her curiosity had only grown.

Something about this place, about him, called to her. It was a call she couldn't ignore, no matter how many times she'd tried to reason herself out of it. She didn't know if it was fascination or defiance, but whatever it was, it drew her deeper into the heart of the mystery.

That night, as the clock struck midnight, Avriel found herself unable to sleep. An unshakable restlessness gnawed at her, and before she knew it, she was creeping through the old house, following some instinct that urged her forward. She felt the weight of each step, the air growing colder as she approached the dimly lit study where they'd first spoken.

As she reached for the door, she paused, a chill racing down her spine. The familiar pressure of his presence filled the air, thick and suffocating, as though he were standing right beside her, watching her with those strange, unsettling eyes.

And then, she heard it ; a low, menacing voice that felt like ice against her skin.

"So you've come crawling back, little mortal."

She froze, her breath catching in her throat. Slowly, she turned to find him standing there, leaning against the wall with an air of dark elegance, his figure half-hidden in shadow. His eyes gleamed in the dim light, one an endless blue, the other a piercing, ghostly silver, and his gaze locked onto hers with an intensity that made her pulse quicken, as cold and unyielding as steel.

"I-" Her voice faltered, but she steadied herself, lifting her chin. "I didn't come crawling. I'm here because I want answers."

A dangerous smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, sharp and humorless. "Answers?" he repeated, his tone laced with mockery. "You think I owe you anything?"

Avriel met his gaze, defiance sparking in her eyes. "I think you're hiding something. There's more to this place, to you, than you're letting on. And I intend to find out what."

His smirk vanished, his expression darkening, shadows gathering around him until he seemed almost to meld with the darkness itself. He took a step forward, his presence filling the room with an oppressive weight that made the air grow cold and still.

"You have no idea what you're dealing with," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper yet sharp as a blade.

"Do you think this is a game, little mortal? Do you think you can come here, poke around in things you don't understand, and simply walk away unscathed?"

Avriel forced herself to hold his gaze, even as every instinct screamed at her to back away. "Maybe I'm not afraid of you."

A dangerous gleam flickered in his eyes, a hint of something wild and unpredictable. "Oh, I can assure you... you will be." he spoke with a slight sarcasm.

He stepped even closer, close enough that she could feel the unnatural chill radiating off him, an icy energy that prickled against her skin. He was too close, his gaze too intense, as though he could see every thought, every fear she'd tried to hide.

She forced herself not to look away, her heart hammering in her chest. "You're just trying to scare me," she said, her voice steadier than she felt.

He leaned in, his expression unreadable, and his voice dropped to a low, deadly whisper. "No, Avriel. I'm trying to warn you. Because if you keep pushing, you're going to find things far darker than your imagination can conjure. Things that even I cannot control."

A shiver ran through her, but she held her ground, unwilling to show weakness. "Then why haven't you done anything? If you're so powerful, why not just get rid of me?"

For a moment, his face softened, a flicker of something almost human crossing his expression. But just as quickly, it vanished, replaced by his cold, calculating gaze.

"Perhaps," he said, his voice a dark murmur, "I'm curious. Or perhaps... I enjoy watching your stubbornness. You may be foolish, but you're not like the others who have wandered into this place."

"Who are you? What is your name?"? asked Ariel with curiosity.

His gaze bore into her with a chilling intensity as he spoke his next words, his voice as sharp as the edge of a knife.

"My name," he said, each syllable dripping with an ominous weight, "is Iver Killian. And remember it well, Avriel, because it may be the last name you hear."

With that, he took a step back, the shadows seeming to close in around him, wrapping him in an aura of otherworldly darkness. "But make no mistake. I am not your ally. I am not your friend. Whatever game you think you're playing, you're alone in this."

And just like that, he turned, fading into the shadows, leaving the room as silent and empty as if he had never been there at all. The chill of his presence lingered, pressing down on her like a weight, and Avriel was left alone, shaken but resolute.

She didn't understand him, this strange, terrifying ghost who seemed to harbor so much anger, so much pain. But she wasn't about to back down. If he thought he could scare her off with a few threats, he was sorely mistaken.

But even as she told herself that, a part of her wondered if she truly understood what she was getting herself into.

Iver's POV:-

"What is it about that pathetic human that I can't seem to kill her or scare her" he talked to himself"

Iver, a formidable spirit of overwhelming power, found himself inexplicably bound by the influence of a mere mortal. A question gnawed at his very essence: why did he restrain from tormenting her, from unleashing his wrath upon her? Why did she still draw breath within the walls of his haunted domain?

For countless years, he had lived in solitude, a hollow existence that left him yearning for even the slightest touch of companionship. Perhaps that was why he clung to the presence of this human, telling himself that toying with her might fill the empty hours, even if only for a little while.

Do you think he will find his peace in the solace he has been living in, or within her?

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