Fate of deception

Chapter 44 - Umaizah's POV

I felt Amir's voice fading behind me, like a lighthouse swallowed by fog. Each word he called felt distant, even though he was so close that I could feel the warmth of his breath on my neck. But warmth felt foreign here, like a memory I couldn't fully summon. Instead, cold seeped in, wrapping around me like tendrils of mist, dragging me deeper into the shadows.

The woman's presence lingered, even though her face had dissolved into the dark. Her gaze, so intense and knowing, had burrowed into me, leaving a chill that rooted itself inside my chest. She'd spoken as though she knew me, as though she understood something I'd long forgotten. Or maybe something I'd refused to remember.

"Umaizah," Amir's voice sounded again, distant but desperate. I wanted to turn back, to reach for his hand, to tell him that I was still here, that I wasn't gone—not yet. But it felt like there was a weight on me, pressing down from all sides, holding me in place.

Ahead, the shadows stirred, parting just slightly to reveal a narrow corridor. It stretched out into the unknown, the walls warped and slick as though they were wet, breathing. The faint blue glow of the candle flickered along the edges, revealing words scrawled into the wallpaper. They were ancient and crooked, letters drawn with a shaky hand. They looked like a language older than words—like symbols pulled from nightmares.

"Follow me, child," the woman's voice came again, a mere whisper, weaving itself around the air, pulling me forward. The sound was gentle yet laced with something dark, a promise, or maybe a threat.

I took a step forward, and the floor groaned beneath me. Each step felt heavy, like I was pushing through water, the kind of water that swallowed you whole. I could feel Amir's gaze behind me, piercing through the shadows, but I couldn't look back. I didn't dare. Something inside me knew that once I crossed this threshold, if I turned back now, I'd never have the strength to leave him again.

The corridor narrowed further, pressing against my shoulders, forcing me forward as if it were funneling me toward something waiting at the other end. The air grew thick, filled with the scent of damp earth and something metallic, sharp, like blood. I knew this smell. It was ancient and bitter, tangled in memories I couldn't place. Memories that felt like dreams but tasted real.

As I moved, the walls around me seemed to pulse, breathing in time with my heartbeat. Or was it someone else's heart? The rhythm grew stronger, louder, pounding against my ears until I could feel it in my bones. And with each beat, I could feel that woman's voice sinking deeper, twisting into my thoughts like roots.

"Why are you here?" she asked, her voice wrapping around me. "What did you expect to find?"

I wanted to answer, to shout, to tell her that I didn't know. That I wasn't sure why I'd followed Amir into this cursed place. But the words caught in my throat, locked behind a fear I couldn't name. I realized, with a cold jolt, that part of me had known exactly what I was looking for. That part of me had been waiting for it too.

And then I saw it—the pendant from the room before, resting on a small pedestal at the end of the corridor. But now it seemed different, the silver gleaming in a way that felt alive, its eye staring right into me, seeing parts of myself I'd tried to bury. I could feel it reaching into my mind, sifting through memories, unraveling secrets I'd hidden even from myself.

A surge of images flickered through my mind—flashes of places I'd never been, faces I didn't recognize. Whispers of voices too familiar yet too distant. And then, one face emerged from the blur: a woman, younger than the one I'd seen in the shadows, her eyes sharp and piercing, just like mine. Her face was filled with an expression that made my heart ache, something like love tangled with fear. She was reaching out to me, her hand stretching across the years, and I felt a hollow ache twist inside me.

She was calling my name. She had called for me, just as I had called for her in dreams I didn't understand, dreams that had haunted me long before this place had found me.

I reached for the pendant, my fingers trembling as they hovered above it. I could feel its cold radiating out, pressing against my skin. Somewhere, I heard Amir's voice again, a faint echo that sounded like it was coming from miles away. "Umaizah, don't..."

But his words felt like they belonged to another world, a world I couldn't reach anymore. The woman's voice echoed in my mind, colder, deeper, pulling me closer. "You are home now, Umaizah. This is where you belong."

My fingers touched the pendant, and the cold snapped through me, freezing me from the inside out. I felt something shift, a tether breaking, and suddenly I was no longer in the corridor. I was somewhere else—a vast, empty space filled with whispers, shadows moving like smoke. And there, at the center of it all, was the woman. She looked younger now, her face a reflection of mine, but her eyes... her eyes were filled with a sorrow that weighed heavier than the darkness around us.

"You came back," she said, her voice soft but steady. "I thought you'd forgotten."

Her words seeped into me, twisting through my mind. Forgotten? How could I have forgotten her? And yet, deep down, I knew she was right. I had buried her, locked her away somewhere in my memory, left her to fade like an old dream. But now, as I stood before her, I could feel it all coming back—the memories clawing their way to the surface, the weight of a past I had tried so hard to leave behind.

"I didn't mean to leave," I whispered, my voice breaking. "I didn't know..."

"You have always known, child," she said, her hand reaching out, hovering just inches from my face. "The truth was never hidden from you. You only chose not to see."

And as her hand touched my cheek, a flood of memories washed over me—memories of this place, of lives lived and lost within its walls, of promises broken and secrets kept. I felt the weight of all those who had come before, their voices blending with mine, weaving into the dark tapestry of this mansion.

I closed my eyes, letting the memories settle, and when I opened them again, she was gone. The vast emptiness remained, stretching out endlessly, and yet, somehow, I felt... lighter. I felt whole.

But as I turned, I could see Amir's face in the distance, his expression filled with that same desperation, his voice a faint, echoing plea, "Umaizah, please..."

And I realized, with a shiver, that I was still trapped between worlds—caught between the weight of my past and the pull of the present. And Amir, he was my tether, my only link to the world I'd left behind. I had to find him, had to bring him back with me. But the darkness had shifted again, twisting into shapes that felt like the mansion was closing in, swallowing us both.

I took a step forward, calling his name, my voice a fragile thread in the shadows. "Amir... find me."

But I could feel the darkness pulsing, pushing us apart, its hold tightening. And as I tried to reach for him, I felt something shift behind me—a cold breath on my neck, a whisper that chilled me to the core.

"Some things are best left forgotten, Umaizah," it murmured, its voice filled with an ancient, merciless hunger. "Are you sure you want him to remember?"

The air grew still, the shadows thickening around me like the closing of a door, and I knew... our time was running out.