"No secret has ever left Eternia." He said, his hot breath burning against my skin.
I wanted to run away but there was something that rendered me unable to move.
"... And you're my little secret too, Ilsa."
••••••••••
Who is Vincent Rivera?
Nothi...
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The squelch of my frantic footsteps on the muddy path was the only sound to be heard in the stillness of the night. Mist departed from my lips, merging with the thick fog which was visible through the beam of my flashlight. I couldn't tell what really caused my breaths to come out as uneven bouts of smoke—the jog or the fear.
It cannot be them. It cannot be. It cannot be! It wasn't supposed to be this way. They cannot be dead now!
I shook my head, reminding myself not to jump to conclusions before knowing the facts. My eyes fell over the two guards' corpses slumped against the front gate of Ombre House as I finally reached there. Their bodies had no sign of a struggle, just a cut on their throats, precise enough to tell me a lot about the skills of the person who did it.
I could see Savio marching through the swamp along with an army of men, hastily progressing towards Ombre House. I did not wait for them before sprinting inside the already open door which led to a dark and empty but utterly spacious, circular foyer. Thick coats of dust flew at the invasion of my footsteps, dancing haphazardly in the single gleaming beam of silver moonlight which duelled with the luminescent golden ray emitted from my flashlight.
My feet quickly carried me to the stairs going down to where they were kept—an act that came subconsciously as a result of knowing every corridor and tunnel in this place so thoroughly. My heart raced and head throbbed as I entered the six digit code on the tiny dial pad mounted on the craggy wall—a point beyond which no one had the access to enter, not even Savio.
A sound similar to a stampede up there was now faintly audible to me as the men stormed into the place. Savio's gruffy voice echoed in the foyer exactly above me as he gave out orders to the men.
The beeping of the door after five seconds exactly got me focusing back on the task on hand and I dashed in as soon as the metal door slid open scruffily, only to close back within seconds. Temperature down here was a good few degrees lower, highlighting the cool path of sweat breaking on my forehead, slowly inching down my left temple.
I unknowingly sped up as I went in deeper into the dark corridor, negative thoughts occupying my mind as every second passed. I continued pacing ahead, the corridor feeling terribly long. I was almost convinced it would be the person I was afraid to have dead now but then I suddenly heard a voice scream at me, conveying the tightly packed hatred in them—hatred for me.
"You fucking bastard! I hope you have the worst death and rot in hell! You fucking murderer!" The voice sounded tired and broken, making me feel content but also a little sad for them—just little.
So its not them.
The thought was relieving but the moment of solace was fleeting. The conclusions that came along with the revelation of this fact weren't any less worrisome.
