***Whispers InThe Dark***
The night was alive with whispers, rustling through the leaves like secrets carried on the wind. Isabella stood at the edge of the garden, her fingers brushing against the petals of a midnight-blue flower that shouldn't have been in bloom this late in the season. Yet here it was, defying logic—just like everything else since Aramniya had stepped into her life.
*"You're thinking too loudly,"* a voice murmured behind her, so close it sent a shiver down her spine.
She didn't turn. "And you're breaking at least three rules of propriety by being here after dark."
Aramniya chuckled, the sound warm and low. "Since when have rules ever stopped me?"
Isabella finally faced him, her heart betraying her with a traitorous skip. Moonlight painted his sharp features in silver, his dark eyes holding a glint of mischief—and something deeper, something that made her breath catch. "You're impossible," she said, but there was no bite in her words.
"And yet, here you are," he countered, stepping closer. "Meeting me in the shadows."
She should have protested. Should have reminded him—and herself—that this wasn't how things were done. Ladies didn't sneak out to gardens at night, didn't entertain conversations with men unchaperoned, didn't let their hearts race at the mere sight of someone. But the rules of society had always felt like chains to her, and Aramniya had a way of making them seem trivial.
"You changed the flowers," she accused, plucking the blue blossom and twirling it between her fingers. "These weren't here yesterday."
He shrugged, but the smirk playing at his lips gave him away. "I thought you'd like them."
Isabella sighed, torn between frustration and the undeniable flutter in her chest. "You can't just rewrite the world whenever it suits you."
"Why not?" His voice dropped, earnest now. "If I can make it kinder for you, why shouldn't I?"
The question hung between them, heavy with unspoken meaning. Isabella looked away, her cheeks burning. It was too much—the way he looked at her, the way he *saw* her, as if she were something rare and precious instead of just another girl trapped in a gilded cage.
A gust of wind stirred the trees, and the whispers grew louder, almost like voices. Isabella frowned. "Do you hear that?"
Aramniya went still, his gaze sharpening. "Hear what?"
"The voices. It's like… someone's speaking, but I can't make out the words." She took a step toward the trees, drawn by the sound.
His hand caught her wrist, gentle but firm. "Don't."
The urgency in his voice startled her. "Why?"
For a heartbeat, he hesitated, conflict flickering in his eyes. Then he exhaled. "There are things in this world even I can't control, Isabella. Some secrets aren't meant to be uncovered."
She studied him, the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers tightened ever so slightly around her wrist. This was new—Aramniya, who bent reality itself for her, was afraid of something.
"What aren't you telling me?" she demanded.
The whispers swelled, twisting into a melody that tugged at her soul. It was beautiful and haunting, and for a moment, she forgot to breathe.
Aramniya pulled her back, his voice urgent. "We need to go. Now."
"But—"
"No." His tone brooked no argument. "Not tonight."
She wanted to protest, to demand answers, but the look in his eyes silenced her. Reluctantly, she let him lead her away from the garden, the whispers fading behind them like a dream upon waking.
---
The next morning, Isabella found herself staring at the same patch of garden where the blue flowers had bloomed. Now, it was empty—just ordinary grass, as if last night had never happened.
"Did you sleep well, my lady?" Her maid, Lila, set a tray of tea on the bedside table, oblivious to the storm raging in Isabella's mind.
"No," Isabella admitted, turning away from the window. "I had… strange dreams."
Lila smiled sympathetically. "Perhaps it's the weather. They say change is in the air."
*Change.* The word sent a shiver through her. Everything *had* changed since Aramniya arrived—her world, her heart, even the very fabric of reality. And now, there were whispers in the dark, secrets he refused to share.
She needed answers.
---
Aramniya was nowhere to be found that day. Not in the library, not in the courtyard, not even in the hidden alcove where they'd shared stolen conversations. It was as if he'd vanished, leaving only questions in his wake.
Frustration coiled in her chest. She wasn't some fragile thing to be sheltered from the truth. If there was danger, she deserved to know. If there were secrets, she would uncover them.
That night, she returned to the garden alone.
The air was still, the moon hidden behind thick clouds. Isabella wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders, stepping cautiously toward the trees. "Hello?" she called softly.
Silence.
Then—a rustle. A breath of wind carrying a voice so faint she almost missed it.
*"Isabella…"*
Her pulse spiked. "Who's there?"
The whispers returned, swirling around her like a chorus of ghosts. *"You don't belong here…"*
She stumbled back, her heart hammering. "What do you mean?"
*"This world isn't yours…"*
A hand clamped over her mouth from behind, and she nearly screamed—until she recognized the scent of cedar and ink. Aramniya.
He spun her to face him, his expression fierce. "I told you not to come here."
She wrenched free. "And I told you I'm tired of secrets! What are they? *Who* are they?"
His jaw tightened. "They're echoes. Fragments of the past—of *your* past."
Isabella froze. "My past?"
Aramniya exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "You weren't just born into this world, Isabella. You were *brought* here. And the threads holding you here are unraveling."
The ground beneath her felt unsteady. "What are you saying?"
He cupped her face, his touch desperate. "I'm saying you're running out of time."
The whispers surged, howling now, and the garden dissolved into shadows.
---
The chapter ends with Isabella waking in her bed, gasping for air, the echoes of Aramniya's words ringing in her ears. Outside her window, the