Chapter 5 Ghost of the past

The unexpected voice in her head was like a shard of ice piercing through Elara's fragile resolve. It wasn't the deep, resonant dread of the Hunger, but something sharp, familiar, and laced with a venomous amusement that sent a different kind of chill down her spine.

Her hand flew to her temple, a gasps escaping her lips. Dante's brow furrowed with concern. "Elara? What is it?"

She shook her head, trying to clear the sudden fog that had descended. "Nothing....just a headache " A lie, and a poor one at that. The voice, the name it had spoken.....it had dredged of a past she had fought desperately to bury.

"Are you sure?" Dante pressed, his gaze sharp and assessing. He wasn't easily fooled.

"Yes", she insisted, trying to sound more convincing than she felt. "Just....the strain of everything".

But the lie hung heavy in the air between them. The name, "well,well, Elara. Fancy meeting you again....in such dire strait", replayed in her mind, each syllable dripping with a malevolent familiarity. It belonged to someone she had believed long gone, a ghost from a life she had tried to outrun.

Dante, sensing her unease, didn't press further for the moment, but his eyes held a flicker of suspicion. He was a man who dealt in secrets, and he recognized the signs of one being kept.

"Alright ", he said slowly. "But you need to tell me what we're facing. This....Hunger. How do we stop it?"

Elara took a shaky breath, forcing herself to focus on the immediate threat. "The legends speak of a ritual ", she began, her voice still slightly unsteady. A binding ceremony that requires specific artifacts, objects imbued with powerful, opposing magic to the Hunger's void. They're....rare. Scattered ".

"Where do we find them?" Dante's pragmatism cut through her fear. He was a man of action, and abstract threats needed concrete solutions.

"I....I don't know exactly ", Elara admitted, the weight of her limited knowledge pressing down on her. "My grandmother only spoke of their existence, their purposes. The details..... they were lost".

Luca shifted impatiently. "So we're chasing fairy tales?"

"These aren't fairy tales", Elara retorted, a sharp edge creeping into her voice.

"This is the reason my family was haunted, why our magic was feared and destroyed. Because we were the only ones who stood between this world and utter annihilation".

Dante held up a hand, silencing Luca. He turned back to Elara, his expression serious. "Think. Anything. Any clue your grandmother might have mentioned. A location, a type of object, a symbol...."

Elara closed her eyes, dredging through the fragmented memories of her childhood, the hushed tones of her grandmother's stories told in the flicking candlelight. Images flashed through her mind: ancient texts with crumbling pages, strange symbols etched on weathered stone, the faint scent of herbs and incense.

"There was.... a mention of a key", she said slowly, her brow furrowed in concentration.

"Something that could....resonate

with the artifacts. A focal point for the binding ritual. It was said to be tied to our bloodlines a physical manifestation of our connection to the wards "

"And where is the key?", Dante pressed.

Elara's eyes snapped open, a sudden, chilling realization dawning. The voice in the head....its mocking tone, the way it had spoken her name.... it wasn't just a random intrusion. It was targeted. It knew her. And if it knew her....

"My amulet", she whispered, her hand instinctively reaching for the empty space beneath her collarbone. "An amulet my grandmother gave me. It was always....warm. I always thought it was just sentimental ".

"You don't have it?" Dante's voice was sharp.

Elara shook her head, a wave of nausea washing over her. "It was taken from me.... years ago", a bitter memory surfaced__a shadowy figure, a cruel smile, the cold snatch of metal against her skin.

The voice echoed again in her mind, clearer this time, laced with triumph. "Looking for something, little enchantress? Perhaps something.....familiar?"

A horrifying image flashed in Elara's mind: the amulet, its intricate silver work pulsing with a faint, dark energy, held in a pale, gloved hand. A hand she knew all too well.

"Who took it?" Dante demanded, his eyes narrowed with suspicion.

Elara's voice was barely a breath. "Silas "

The name hung heavy in the air, ghost from her past suddenly made terrifying present. Silas Thorne. A rogue mage, obsessed with forbidden knowledge, and someone she had foolishly trusted long ago. Someone she had believed was dead.

And the chilling amusement in his mental voice told her he was very much alive. And somehow, he was connected to the awakening of the Hunger.