Chapter 406: Chapter 406

The word ’siren’ hung in the air, soft but heavy, too ancient and dangerous to be dismissed casually.

Lucas stared at Windstone, disbelief flickering across his face. "A siren," he repeated. "You’re saying I... sing people to death?"

Windstone cleared his throat, ever precise. "Not to death, Your Grace. At least..." he hesitated, an uncharacteristic pause, "not yet."

Trevor straightened slowly, crossing his arms. His expression was calm, but his eyes were sharp with the kind of focus he usually reserved for negotiations. "So the sound isn’t the weapon," he said. "It’s the lure."

Windstone nodded once. "Precisely. The scent carries a frequency, a resonance that hooks into memory and emotion. The voice strengthens it. Together, they compel the target toward... what they most long for."

Lucas frowned, his brows knitting. "That doesn’t make sense. I wasn’t even speaking to him."

"That may be why it worked," Trevor murmured.

Windstone inclined his head. "Intent appears to amplify it, but not control it. Your pheromones are initiatory, awakening what is already dormant in the mind.

Lucas blinked. "Meaning?"

"Meaning," Trevor said dryly, "that you can accidentally resurrect ghosts in people’s heads."

Windstone looked faintly offended by the phrasing, though he didn’t argue. "In principle, yes."

The experiments continued, though Windstone now carried a discreet pulse monitor and had taken to keeping a bottle of brandy within arm’s reach.

The west conservatory had become their testing ground, a space filled with old glass, heavy humidity, and enough distance from the main manor to minimize casualties. Trevor insisted on a sealed perimeter, guards stationed far enough not to hear, and an emergency suppressant mist chambered just in case.

Lucas hated all of it.

"This feels cruel," he said on the third morning, watching Windstone sit calmly in a chair across from him, datapad balanced in one hand as though he weren’t volunteering his sanity for science. "You look like a man waiting for a firing squad."

Windstone didn’t glance up. "I find a controlled environment preferable to an uncontrolled disaster, Your Grace."

Trevor, standing behind Lucas, adjusted the field dampener at his wrist. "He’s right. The sooner you learn to contain it, the safer everyone will be... including you."

Lucas sighed, leaning back in the chair opposite Windstone. "You make it sound like I’m a loaded weapon."

Trevor’s tone softened. "You are. You just haven’t learned which way you’re pointing."

Windstone tapped the datapad. "If you would, Your Grace. Begin as before."

This time, Lucas didn’t need to think of anger. He reached for the feeling itself, the strange, magnetic pull he’d felt when Windstone said siren. He exhaled slowly, letting the thought uncoil.

The scent appeared first, faintly sweet, something like honey mixed with cold air, the kind of fragrance that seemed to hang behind someone after they left a room. Then the undertone came, low and almost inaudible, a vibration that brushed across the skin more than the ear.

Windstone’s pulse, visible on the monitor, began to climb. His breathing slowed at the same time. The datapad slid slightly in his hand as his eyes unfocused.

Trevor stepped closer, watching carefully. "What do you see?" he asked quietly.

Windstone’s voice was soft, almost dreamy. "She’s by the shore again... laughing... her dress is red this time."

Lucas froze. "He’s not joking."

"No," Trevor said. "He’s trapped."

Windstone smiled faintly, the lines of his face smoothing with something like peace. "She turns when I call her name. She’s..." Thɪs chapter is updatᴇd by novel⸺fire.net

"Windstone." Trevor’s voice cut like steel.

The older man blinked, the illusion breaking. His pulse spiked sharply, and he inhaled a shaky breath. "...apologies, my lord. That one was stronger."

Lucas pressed a hand over his mouth. "Stronger? That looked like possession."

"Fascinating," Windstone murmured faintly, already typing. "The duration extended by nearly twenty seconds. And the auditory layer emerged without vocalization. Extraordinary."

Trevor pinched the bridge of his nose. "Windstone, you’re supposed to be the control group, not the volunteer for psychological collapse."

"Every experiment requires risk," Windstone said smoothly. "And brandy."

By the end of the week, they had patterns... very dangerous ones.

Lucas could call the effect now without emotional triggers, but he still couldn’t choose what it showed. Windstone saw the same figure each time, his first spouse, his wife, younger than she’d been at death, always smiling, always singing something the recorders never picked up.

Trevor, immune through the bond, observed every test. He noticed that when Lucas’s pheromones reached peak resonance, even objects seemed to react: the glass panels in the conservatory hummed faintly, and the air shimmered, thick with humidity that clung to the skin like breath.

Each trial ended with Windstone dazed, Lucas pale, and Trevor quietly furious that he couldn’t protect either of them from the thing they were trying to understand.

On the fifth evening, Lucas sat alone at the table, elbows on his knees, eyes unfocused. "It doesn’t just pull them in," he said finally. "It feeds on what they feel. When he smiles, it gets stronger. This is what Benedict is scared of?"

Trevor didn’t answer immediately. The storm outside had settled into a heavy drizzle, soft enough that each drop could be heard when it struck the glass.

"Yes," Trevor said at last. His voice was quiet but not gentle. "Benedict isn’t afraid of what you can do, Lucas. He’s afraid of what you are. You make people forget themselves. Even the strong-minded... especially them."

Lucas gave a hollow laugh. "That’s not power. That’s cruelty wrapped in perfume."

Windstone, who was still pale but recovering on the couch nearby, set down his cup of tea. "Your Grace, if I may," he said, tone cautious but unwavering. "It is not inherently cruel. The effect mirrors the subject’s heart, not your intent. You just use it."

Lucas turned to him, expression unreadable. "That’s supposed to make me feel better?"

"It should," Windstone replied, straightening slightly. "Because it means the danger lies in the world’s longing, not in you. You simply... open the door."

Trevor moved behind Lucas, resting his hands on the back of his chair. "And that’s exactly why Benedict fears you. Imagine if you would be able to open the door for him."

Windstone placed his teacup down. "He never reached you after that first life. Maybe this could be the cause of it."