Chapter 38: The Breathing Wall

Azura’s POV

I shut the door behind me, and a heavy thud echoed down the empty hallway.

I stood there for a second, just glaring at the dark wood like it had personally insulted my entire family tree. My chest felt tight, my heart was doing a frantic drum solo against my ribs, and my hands were shaking so hard I had to ball them into fists.

But I refused to let him win. I absolutely refused to let him see that his words, or his scary, burning eyes did anything to me.

I took three stiff steps away from the door, stopped, and then turned around. I stuck my tongue out at the door with as much attitude as I could muster.

Was it childish? Totally. Did it make me feel better? You bet it did.

"Big scary Alpha," I muttered, crossing my arms over my nightgown. "King of the growlers. Lord of the empty threats. You think you’re so tough because you can loom over people? Please."

I started walking again, the soles of my feet slapping softly against the cold stone floor. The torches on the walls flickered, casting long, wiggly shadows that looked like dancing monsters.

My anger was starting to cool down now, but it was being replaced by something much heavier. Something that felt like a lead weight in my stomach.

Liona. My Second Hand lady.

She was in real trouble. Rhydor hadn’t actually said what he was going to do to her, but I’d seen that look in his eyes. It was that cold, "I-am-the-law" fury that usually ended with someone being thrown into a dungeon or worse.

And what could I do? I had no rank. No power. I was basically a guest who wasn’t allowed to leave and happened to be sharing a soul-swapping curse with the boss.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a second. "If he touches a hair on her head..."

I didn’t even finish the thought because, honestly, I didn’t know what I’d do. Throw a vase at him? Bite him? I’d figure something out. I always did. I didn’t survive living on the streets by giving up when things got scary. Even if it killed me, I wasn’t going to let her suffer for my mistakes.

I turned a corner and slowed down.

The air felt... weird. The hallway was quiet, but not the "everyone is sleeping" kind of quiet. It was the "something is watching you" kind of quiet.

I stopped dead. I held my breath and tilted my head, listening so hard my ears actually hurt.

Swish.

It was tiny. A soft sound of fabric brushing against stone. Then, a footstep. It was light, careful, and definitely not mine.

My heart did a backflip. I turned my head slowly, looking back the way I came.

Nothing. Just shadows and the orange glow of the torches.

"Nope," I whispered to myself, my voice sounding way too loud in the silence. "No. Absolutely not. We are not doing this today."

I turned back around and started walking again. Fast. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might actually pop out of my chest.

"This packhouse better not be haunted," I hissed under my breath. "I did not survive hunters and starvation just to get taken out by a ghost in a nightgown. That is a terrible way to go."

But the sound didn’t stop. It followed me. It was smooth, steady, and way too quiet to be a normal person just going for a midnight snack.

I swallowed hard, my throat feeling like it was full of dry sand. I stopped again, but this time, I spun around fully.

I saw it.

A figure was standing at the far end of the hallway. It was covered in a pitch-black cloak with a hood pulled so low I couldn’t even see a chin, let alone a face. It was just... there. Standing perfectly still. Watching me.

My breath caught in my throat. For a long, terrifying second, neither of us moved. We just stared at each other across the dark corridor.

Then, the figure turned. It didn’t run. It just started walking away, slowly and calmly. It moved with a kind of "follow me" energy that was impossible to ignore. It was like a magnetic pull, tugging at my very soul.

​And the worst part? My stupid, curious brain was already moving my feet.

​Azura, stop, I told myself. Go back to your room and lock the door. Pile all the chairs against it and pretend you’re blind. That’s what a sane person would do.

​But apparently, I am not a sane person. Curiosity has always been my greatest enemy.

I followed it. I stayed back a good distance, creeping along the shadows like a spy in a bad play. The figure moved like water, no sound, no heavy breathing, not even a rustle from that cloak.

If this is a ghost, I am going to be so mad at myself, I thought. But if it’s a person... I have to know what it’s doing up at this hour.

We went deeper and deeper into the packhouse. We passed hallways I’d never seen before. The torches were further apart here, and the air started to feel freezing, like we were heading into a cellar.

The figure turned another corner. I panicked for a second, thinking I’d lose it, so I sped up. I rounded the corner and stopped.

The hallway ended. It was a dead end. The figure was standing right in front of a solid stone wall. No doors. No hidden latches. Nothing but rocks and mortar.

I pressed my back against the cold stone of the side wall, trying to stay hidden in the dark. I watched, my eyes wide.

The figure raised a hand. It didn’t knock or push. It just placed its palm flat against the stone.

And then... the wall moved.

It didn’t swing open like a door. It rippled. It looked like someone had thrown a stone into a still pond. The solid rock shifted and flowed, creating a dark, shimmering doorway right where a wall should have been.

The figure stepped through it and vanished.

A second later, the wall sealed itself back up. Solid. Silent. It looked like it had been there for a thousand years without moving.

I stood there, frozen, staring at the spot.

Ghost. Definitely a ghost, I thought, my brain struggling to catch up. Or magic. Or I finally snapped and I’m currently talking to a wall in my sleep.

I thought about the dead wolf with the melted face. I thought about the way Rhydor avoided my questions. Did he really kill that man?

Everything in this place was turning into a giant, scary puzzle, and I was right in the middle of it.

Fear started crawling up my spine, cold and tingly. This place was haunted. That’s it. It’s just cursed and haunted.

But even with the fear, I felt that annoying itch of curiosity again. I couldn’t just walk away. Not after seeing a wall breathe and swallow a person whole. If there was a secret way out of this house, or a secret way to find the truth, it was behind that rock.

I stepped forward, my legs feeling a bit like jelly. I reached out and touched the stone.

It was solid. Cold. Hard. It felt like... well, like a wall. I pushed on it. I poked it. I even tried to find a hidden button. Nothing.

"Did I imagine that?" I whispered. "Am I actually losing it?"

I stared at the stone for a long time, my heart racing. Then, I took a deep, shaky breath. I didn’t know why, but I felt a pull. A strange, magnetic tugging in my gut.

I didn’t poke it this time. I just walked straight toward it.

The world shifted.

It wasn’t like being hit or falling. It felt like stepping through a heavy, velvet curtain. One second I was in the cold hallway, and the next, I felt a weird pressure all over my body. It wasn’t painful, just... tight. Like a warm hug from a giant.

And then, pop, I was through.

I stumbled a little, my bare feet hitting a different kind of floor. I spun around quickly, my heart trying to escape through my throat.

The wall behind me was solid again. No ripple, no door. Just a smooth surface of stone. I was trapped on the other side.

I stared at my hand, then at the wall. What just happened? How did I do that? I was trembling so hard I could hear my teeth clicking together. I wanted to scream, but my throat was too tight to let any sound out. ℯℯ𝘭.

And then, a voice came out of the darkness. It was calm, steady, and sounded like it already knew all my secrets.

"I knew you were special."

I froze. Every single muscle in my body turned to stone. My breath hitched, stuck in my chest.

Slowly, very slowly, I started to turn around to face whoever was standing there.