Page 99 of Shadowed Whispers

“I’m losing my mind,” I mutter to myself, the words barely audible over the roar of the ocean.

Each footfall on the damp gravel feels deliberate, echoing ominously against the backdrop of the ocean’s roar. My breath comes in steady puffs, visible in the chilly air, mingling with the sea mist like spirits being exhaled into the world. It’s a rhythmic reminder of the isolation I feel, surrounded by beauty that somehow seems malevolent today.

I pass the old library, its stone facade more foreboding than ever. The gargoyles perched along the roofline peer down at me, their expressions grotesque and mocking. I’ve jogged past this building a thousand times, but today, it feels as though they are watching me, aware of my growing suspicions and the secrets I’m beginning to unravel.

As I round the corner near the botanical gardens, the scent of saltwater mixes with the smell of damp earth and decaying leaves. The gardens are a riot of color, even in the dim light, but the beauty of the blooms does nothing to lift the heaviness that settles over me. The whispering of wind through the trees sounds like hushed conversations, secrets being exchanged just beyond my hearing.

I slow as I approach the small bridge over a narrow part of the creek that cuts through campus. The water flows quietly below, dark and mysterious, mingling with the larger, more ominous sea beyond. Leaning against the railing, I look down into the water, half expecting to see something unnatural lurking beneath the surface, but there’s nothing—just the occasional leaf floating past, carried away by the gentle current.

It’s here, in this quiet, secluded spot that the weight of everything I’ve learned feels most oppressive. The pieces of the puzzle are slowly fitting together, each one revealing more of the dark tapestry that is the true nature of this place. Before I understood their significance, the sigils were merely intriguing designs to me, curious symbols etched into doorframes, carved into the bark of trees, and hidden in the ornate ironwork of gates. However, after recent sessions with Bishop, where he meticulously explained the cipher, these symbols have taken on a new meaning. Each sigil, I’ve learned, carries a specific meaning.

Protection.

Binding.

Power.

Recognizing them now feels like reading a secret language that reveals warnings, or perhaps serves as markers in an arcane surveillance system monitoring my every move.

As I push off from the railing and resume my jog, my mind races with the implications of these revelations. The shadows seem to cling a little closer, the whispers of the wind more insistent, mixed with the distant cries of seabirds. I force myself to pick up the pace, trying to outrun my own thoughts, but the chilling realization remains—no matter how fast I run, I can’t escape the truth that is slowly enveloping me.

It’s impossible to escape the feeling that the academy is alive, that it breathes and watches and perhaps waits. The thought sends a shiver down my spine as I head toward the athletic fields—the only place left where I might find some semblance of normalcy. The ambient sounds of the campus seem to follow me, whispering secrets I’m not ready to understand.

As I emerge from the trees, the open expanse of the rugby field offers a brief respite from the claustrophobic atmosphere of the wooded paths and the sea. Here, at least, the sky seems a bit brighter, the air less oppressive, filled with the fresh, earthy scent of grass still damp with morning dew. I make my way to the track, where the synthetic surface feels reassuringly solid and real under my feet, a stark contrast to the shifting, uncertain ground of my thoughts.

Even here, though, in this clear, open space, I can’t shake the sensation of being observed. I glance around, expecting to see a figure lurking at the edge of the woods or a face peering out from one of the windows of the distant dormitories. Nothing moves, but the unease remains, a constant companion that I know won’t easily be dismissed. It’s as if the air around me holds its breath, waiting for my next move.

I need to hunt.

The thought has me pausing on the track, my breathing heavy and my heart racing in my chest. I know just when I can go—the eclipse. The entire campus will be shut down. The town will be damn near shut down. Everyone will be celebrating. Which, now that I think about it, is incredibly odd. A whole town shutting down for an eclipse?

I’m going to the party with Tori at the Grotto, so what if I just slip out for an hour or two? The need to remove an abuser from this world almost overtakes all my thoughts, echoing with each stride as I jog along the path.

My focus is so intense that I barely notice the approach of someone until he’s beside me. Startled, I turn to find Leo matching my pace, a ridiculous smile on his face and two cups of coffee in his hands. His sudden appearance startles me, but his familiar presence quickly turns into a comforting distraction from the dark whirlpool of my thoughts.

Leo’s smile widens as he hands me one of the cups, the steam curling up into the cool air. “I hope I’m not espresso-ing myself too forwardly, but I thought you might need a pick-me-up,” he quips, the warmth in his eyes matching the heat from the cup he extends to me.

I can’t help but laugh a real laugh that feels like it bubbles up from somewhere deep inside, somewhere that hasn’t seen much light lately. “That’s so brew-tal, Leo,” I retort, accepting the coffee. The warmth from the cup seeps into my hands, pulling me back from the edge of my spiraling thoughts.

“Only the best brew puns for you,” he says as we resume walking, our strides falling into a comfortable rhythm. We take a moment just to sip our coffees, letting the silence between us fill with the sounds of our footfalls and the distant crash of the waves. The rich, bitter aroma of the coffee blends seamlessly with the salty air, creating an oddly comforting atmosphere, a brief sanctuary from the undercurrents of darkness that permeate the campus.

“So what brings you out here with coffee?” I ask, glancing over at him. “Don’t tell me you just happened to be running with two cups of coffee.”

Leo grins, shrugging nonchalantly. “I saw you heading out from the dorms. Figured you could use a coffee... or company. Or both.” His tone is light, but there’s a trace of something more, a sort of earnestness that makes me look at him a little longer than usual.

“I appreciate it,” I say, taking another sip of the coffee. “It’s really good.”

“Only the best for the best,” he replies smoothly, his smile not fading. “It’s a new blend I tried, thinking it might suit your latte needs.”

I chuckle, shaking my head at the pun. “You’re lucky you’re cute, because your puns are…” I trail off, searching for the right word.

“Un-bean-lievable?” he offers, winking at me.

“Exactly,” I agree, laughing. The sound feels foreign but good, a reminder that despite the shadows, there are still moments of light to be found.

We walk in silence for a few moments. The salty sea air mixes with the faint scent of pine from the nearby woods, creating a fresh, invigorating aroma that fills my lungs with each breath. I find myself glancing at Leo occasionally, noticing the way his hair is tousled perfectly by the wind and how his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles, each expression revealing a glimpse of the carefree spirit he often masks.

“So,” Leo starts, breaking the silence, his voice cutting gently through the whispering winds, “got any plans for the eclipse?”

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