Whispers in the storm

Chapter Three 

Eleanor stood at the edge of the cliffs, the lighthouse looming behind her like a sentinel against the raging storm. Nathaniel's voice had echoed through the winds, but it seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once. Her heart pounded as the weight of the moment pressed against her chest.

"Nathaniel!" she screamed into the tempest, her voice swallowed by the crashing waves below.

Suddenly, a faint light flickered in the distance, far beyond the cliffs, where the rocks disappeared into the dark sea. It wasn't the steady beam of the lighthouse but something else—a signal, a call. Without thinking, Eleanor ran back to the lighthouse and grabbed a small lantern. The storm made the descent treacherous, but she didn't care. If Nathaniel was out there, she had to find him.

The light led her to a hidden path, one overgrown and treacherous, winding down the cliffside. She slipped and stumbled but pressed on until she reached a small cave carved into the rocks. The light was gone, but the echoes of Nathaniel's voice whispered inside.

"Help me, Eleanor," it repeated, faint and haunting.

Clutching the lantern tightly, she stepped into the cave, the shadows swallowing her whole.

The cave was deeper than she expected, winding and dark, with the smell of saltwater and damp stone. The air felt heavier the farther she ventured, as if the walls themselves held the weight of untold secrets.

Then she saw him. Nathaniel was slumped against the far wall, his clothes soaked and his face pale. But when he opened his eyes, they gleamed with a mixture of relief and fear.

"You came," he whispered, his voice hoarse.

Eleanor knelt beside him, brushing a damp strand of hair from his forehead. "What happened? I heard your voice—where have you been?"

Nathaniel's hand gripped hers tightly. "They found me. I tried to run, but they always know where I am."

"Who, Nathaniel? Who's after you?"

Before he could answer, a sound echoed through the cave—a low, rhythmic tapping, like footsteps on the stone. Eleanor turned, her heart racing as shadows danced on the walls.

"They're here," Nathaniel said, his voice trembling.

Eleanor helped him to his feet, her mind racing. She didn't know who—or what—was coming, but every instinct screamed at her to run. Together, they stumbled back toward the cave's entrance, the lantern's flickering light their only guide.

Just as they reached the mouth of the cave, a figure stepped into view, blocking their path. A man dressed in a dark coat, his face obscured by the shadows.

"You should have stayed hidden, Nathaniel," the man said, his voice cold and menacing

The man took a step closer, his hand resting on the hilt of a blade at his side. Eleanor positioned herself between him and Nathaniel, her heart pounding.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

The man's lips curled into a cruel smile. "Someone who ensures that the past stays buried."

Nathaniel clung to her arm, his voice a shaky whisper. "Eleanor, he's one of them. One of the people who—"

The man interrupted, his voice sharp. "Enough. She doesn't need to know the details, Nathaniel. It's over."

But Eleanor wasn't about to back down. "If it's over, why are you still chasing him? What's so important about Nathaniel's past that you're willing to kill for it?"

The man hesitated, a flicker of something—fear, perhaps—crossing his face. Then he stepped forward, raising the blade.

In that moment, Nathaniel surged forward, grabbing a loose rock from the ground and striking the man's arm. The blade clattered to the floor, and Eleanor kicked it away as the two men grappled.

"Run!" Nathaniel shouted, his voice raw.

But Eleanor refused to leave. She grabbed the lantern and swung it toward the man, the glass shattering against his shoulder. Flames erupted briefly before the rain doused them, enough of a distraction for Nathaniel to shove the man back into the shadows.

"Come on!" Eleanor shouted, pulling Nathaniel with her as they fled into the storm.