Fate of deception

Chapter 45 - Amir's POV

I watched Umaizah disappear down the corridor, swallowed by the darkness, and I felt a desperation clawing at me, tightening like a noose around my chest. She was right there—so close I could feel the lingering warmth of her presence. Yet, with every step she took, it was as if some invisible force was dragging her deeper, pulling her beyond my reach.

"Umaizah!" My voice felt small, thin, like the darkness around us was devouring it before it could even reach her. But I couldn't stop. I couldn't lose her to whatever this was.

I pressed forward, the damp, suffocating walls closing in. They seemed to pulse and breathe around me, alive and malevolent. The air felt thicker with each step, like it was seeping into my lungs, wrapping around my ribs, squeezing the breath out of me. But I wouldn't let it stop me. I couldn't.

Ahead, Umaizah had reached something—a small pedestal, barely visible in the flickering light, where a pendant gleamed coldly. I watched her lift her hand, her fingers trembling as they hovered over it. A chill swept through me, sharp as a blade, and every instinct screamed for me to stop her. But she looked so far away, her face set in a way I'd never seen before, like she was chasing something just beyond her reach, something only she could see.

"Umaizah, don't..." My voice was barely a whisper, as if I knew that to speak too loudly would shatter whatever fragile thread kept her tethered here.

Then, her fingers touched the pendant.

It was like the world shifted, tilting on its axis, and I could feel a pull in my chest, a strange magnetic force dragging me forward, toward the pedestal, toward her. But she was slipping away. Even though her body was still there, I could feel her presence shifting, flickering, like a candle fighting to stay lit in a storm. And the darkness... it surged around her, coiling like smoke, like shadows given form.

Then, a voice whispered from the shadows, so soft that it felt like it was speaking inside my head. "Some things are best left forgotten, Amir," it murmured, low and venomous, every word wrapping around me like chains. "Are you sure you want to find her? Are you sure you want to remember?"

The words sunk into my skin, their weight pressing down on me, filling my mind with images—fragments of things I'd buried, things I'd long tried to forget. Memories of shadows shifting in empty hallways, of cold, merciless eyes watching me from corners, of voices that followed me through dreams I could never escape.

But those memories were nothing compared to the thought of losing her. I pushed against the weight, against the shadows creeping into my mind. She was my tether, my anchor. If I let her go now, I'd lose her to this place, to this curse—whatever it was. And I couldn't bear it. I'd come here to protect her, to be with her, and I wasn't leaving without her.

"Umaizah..." My voice was raw, desperate, filled with everything I couldn't say. She was still there, I could feel it. I reached out, my hand brushing the air, searching for any trace of her warmth. "Please, come back."

As if in answer, the shadows around her seemed to shift, coiling tighter, pulling her deeper. I felt a cold hand wrap around my wrist, and I looked down in horror. It was a hand, but it wasn't flesh. It was shadow, cold and ancient, fingers digging into my skin, pulling me toward the darkness. I felt my strength faltering, the weight of the place pressing down on me.

"Don't forget her, Amir," the voice whispered, now so close that it felt like it was breathing into my ear. "But are you sure you want to remember?"

I swallowed hard, fighting the surge of fear. "Yes." The word escaped me, low but steady. And as I said it, I could feel the darkness shift, hesitating, as if surprised. "Yes," I repeated, louder this time. "I want to remember. I want to find her."

I wrenched my hand free from the cold grip and took a step forward, pushing against the shadows that tried to block my path. The corridor twisted, warped, as if the mansion itself was fighting to keep me back. But I forced my way forward, step by step, calling her name.

Then I saw her, or a vision of her, standing there in the distance. She was reaching out, her face pale and stricken, her eyes filled with a fear that broke me. She looked at me, her lips moving, but no sound escaped.

"Umaizah!" I took another step, my voice a desperate plea. "Please, I'm here!"

And in that moment, something shifted. The shadows faltered, just for a heartbeat, and I saw her face clearly. Her eyes met mine, and I could see the sorrow, the burden she was carrying—a weight I realized now that she'd held alone for so long.

"I'm coming," I whispered, my voice a vow, a promise. "I'll bring you back."

But as I reached out, a new figure emerged from the darkness. A woman, her face sharp, her eyes cold and ancient, filled with the weight of countless secrets. She looked between Umaizah and me, and a twisted smile curved on her lips, like she held all the answers and was daring us to ask the questions.

"She belongs to this place, Amir," the woman said, her voice soft and chilling. "Just as you do. You've both walked these halls before, and you'll walk them again. It is written. This is your home now."

Her words were like chains around my ankles, pulling me down, but I fought against them. I shook my head, refusing to believe her. "No. This isn't our home. This isn't where we belong."

The woman's smile grew, a cruel gleam flickering in her eyes. "Isn't it?"

And then, just as quickly, she faded into the shadows, leaving us alone.

In the silence, I felt Umaizah's presence strengthen, a faint warmth that cut through the cold. She looked at me, her gaze filled with gratitude and something deeper—something that felt like hope. I reached out, my hand finding hers, and the moment our fingers touched, a surge of warmth pulsed between us, like a heartbeat, like a promise.

"Let's go," I whispered, holding her hand tightly. And together, we turned, facing the endless corridor, determined to leave this place behind us.