Torin, lounging near the window, let out a low chuckle. "She’s got more fight in her than I gave her credit for," he muttered, though whether it was an insult or a compliment, I couldn’t tell. I turned to him, my mind racing.
“They’re all cracking, all unravelling.”
The realization struck me with chilling clarity. The curse was working through them, manipulating their emotions, driving wedges between them.
But how could I trust any of them? Cillian’s possessiveness, Fionn’s rage, Torin’s spite—they were all dangerous and Seraphina… her calm reassurances felt more like manipulations every day.
Don’t trust them.
They’ll use you.
Twist you.
You’re nothing but a pawn in their game.
Thay are monsters.
"Stop!" I muttered, trying to silence them, but the voices only grew louder.
They’ll destroy you.
Do you really think you canplay this game and win?
Run! Run before it’s too late.
“Did you say something, Tilly?” Torin asked, his smirk fading slightly as he leaned forward. “Or did I imagine it?”
I ignored him, pacing the room now. My footsteps echoed louder than they should have. Every creak of the floorboards, every faint rustle of the curtains, every distant sound of the manor seemed magnified. My senses felt raw, hyper-attuned to everything today. I could hear the faint hum of Seraphina’s breathing, the barely audible creak of Cillian shifting in his chair, the muted grind of Fionn’s teeth.
And then I saw it, a polished old brown music box gleaming on a low table by the window. It hadn’t been there before. I was certain of it. Yet my attention was now drawn to it, its intricate carvings and moon symbols shone in the sunlight, and something about it called to me.
“Tilly?” Cillian’s voice was calm but sharp, his concern laced with suspicion.
“What are you doing?”
I didn’t answer as I walked across the room. My focus narrowed to the music box, its presence like a siren song pulling me in. My fingers trembled as I reached for it, the cool metal of its delicate key sending a jolt up my arm. I turned the key slowly, the resistance giving way to a soft click.
“Tilly,” Fionn’s voice snapped, his tone sharper now. He stood against the wall cautiously, his eyes narrowing. “What are you—”
As he spoke the Music spilled from the box, rich and haunting, blanking out his voice. It filled the room, elegant ballroom notes twisting through the air like ghosts. I loved how the sound drowned out everything else, the voices, the whispers, the suffocating silence. I closed my eyes and let it wash over me, the tension in my chest loosening just enough to let me breathe.
“What are you doing?” Torin demanded, his tone teetering between amusement and irritation.
“Have you lost your mind?”
I didn’t answer. Instead, I turned the volume up higher. My gaze darted around the room, my breathing shallow as the voices rose in intensity. The portraits on the walls seemed possessed, their painted eyes following me, their gazes piercing. The golden light streaming through the windows twisted and bent, casting unnatural shadows that danced and writhed like living things across the room.
“Do you smell that?” I muttered, more to myself than anyone else. The air felt dense, metallic, and acrid, like lightning splitting open in a storm.
“What’s she talking about?” Torin asked, his voice tinged with mockery, though I heard a flicker of unease beneath it.
I ignored them. My focus was slipping, my senses spiralling out of control. The whispers in my head were no longer whispers, they were screams clawing at my mind.
“You can’t fight it.”
“No,” I murmured, shaking my head.
I turned the music up higher, blocking them out..
