The Whisperer

 

Prologue

 

            His sharp features were set on a terse frame.  Those pale green eyes looked intense against the deathly blue light that reflected from a two feet tall golden stand with intricate designs of dreadful war scenes and pestilence.  It too, almost made his sandy blonde hair, now goofily messed up, a little lighter than it actually was.  His muscles rippled, and his left hand seemed to clench his slightly glowing silver sword more rigidly than before.

            "Iana," his velvety voice called her out from her somewhat dark reverie, "don't over think, just close it."

            Automatically, her head flipped towards his line of sight.  I can't do it, Dennis.  You trust me too much.  Between her too sweaty palms was a golden staff with a red gem at the center of its oval shaped head.  It was faintly tugging towards Iana's front, where coincidently, the doors to the Abyss were closely situated.

            The doors, Vanessa, open the doors. You cannot detain us here forever.  Iana's hair stood on end.  It was that vile, slithery voice again.  If before, it was distant and barely audible, the voice was now oddly close, louder, and more alluring than it could have ever been.

            She internally groaned.  Following that intimidating voice was just getting harder and harder to resist.  Iana turned to look at him.  "Why, Dennis? Why should I be the one to destroy it?" Her voice sounded desperate, miserable even.  I can't do it...I just can't do it.

            Of course you can't do it.  The voice venomously spat back.  You are capable of so little, Iana Grey.

          "Don't listen to them." Dennis sternly countered.  "You just have to believe in yourself." His free hand grabbed her by the arm, as if to stable her trembling body.  Not that it wasn't already trembling at any point of course.

            His heady gaze locked with hers.  "Iana, you can destroy the doors."

           She flinched, unnerved with what Dennis had to say.  "You can hear them, too?"

          He shook his head slowly.  "No, I can't.  But that does not mean I do not have my own voices to battle."

          "Guys," a girl with chestnut brown hair called.  Her voice was laced with exhaustion even if she was standing ever so still with her back turned towards them.  "I can't hold this up any longer."

          Momentarily, Iana was perplexed with what the girl was holding up.  But that was only until she caught sight of what was looming above them, or rather, around them.  A transparent like sphere was what the alien thing looked like, it enclosed its subjects within a protective sheet, not allowing any outsider's attack to hit them and cause a great deal of destruction.  Then it dawned upon Iana, the girl over there was projecting this magnificent expansion. 

            But not for long.  An icy voice whispered.

           "Bryson!" The girl called as she now took a tentative step backwards.  "Help me project this."

          Another boy, whom Iana was sure she saw before, ran quickly towards chestnut girl.  He had jet black with chinky dark brown eyes.  In his hand, was a sleek wooden rod, but he gracefully slipped it behind his back for safe keeping— now concealing that curious thing from Iana's sight. 

          "Exclusion, okay?" She reminded, sarcasm lined with her tone of voice.

        Iana had a weird feeling he rolled his eyes.  He was standing a few meters away from her when he drew in a deep breathe.  Now, Bryson was just as still as she was.