The hum of Professor Wright's blade filled the office, vibrating against the walls like a living thing. Armand felt it clawing at his mind, whispering fragments of doubt, urging him to turn against Grace.
Grace Johnson stepped forward, her own knife drawn. Its whisper was softer, steadier — a counterpoint to the professor's chaos. "You're wrong," she said firmly. "The whispers don't bind us. They warn us. They protect us."
Professor Wright's smile was cold. "Protection? Or control? You've been deceived, Grace. The Circle feeds on fear, and you're too blind to see it."
Armand's head throbbed. The two whispers clashed inside him — one sharp and violent, the other calm but insistent. He staggered, gripping the desk for balance.
"Armand," Grace's voice cut through the noise, steady and clear. "Listen. Choose."
The professor raised his blade, its hum rising to a piercing shriek. "Silence the Circle, boy. Break free."
Armand's breath came fast. His hand trembled as he reached for the dagger on the table. The whispers collided, louder, harsher, until they became one unbearable roar.
And then — silence.
Armand lifted the blade, his choice made. The room froze, Grace's eyes wide, the professor's smile fading. The whisper had spoken, and Armand had answered.