chapter four

The House Remembers

The next morning dawned gray and lifeless. Clouds hung low over Graymoor like a veil, and Evelyn felt the weight of them pressing down on her as she stood at her bedroom window, arms folded tight across her chest.

The mark on her arm hadn’t faded. If anything, it had grown more vivid overnight — glowing softly beneath the skin like a smoldering ember. She tried covering it with a sleeve, but the heat beneath it pulsed like a heartbeat, steady and alive.

She kept replaying the woman’s voice in her mind. “The forces hunting you are closer than you think.”

Was she one of them? Or someone trying to help?

Downstairs, the house was quiet. Too quiet. Her father had already left for work, though Evelyn doubted he’d say anything even if he’d seen a ghost hovering in the hallway. He’d been shutting himself off since her mother vanished — drifting like a ghost of his own.

Evelyn moved slowly through the hall, her eyes drawn to the old study her mother had once used — a room that had been locked since the disappearance.

But today, the door was cracked open.

A cold shiver ran down her spine.

Pushing it open, she stepped inside. The room smelled of old paper and something faintly sweet — lavender, maybe. Her mother’s scent. Dust coated everything in a fine layer, but nothing looked disturbed. Except for the rug in the corner.

It was shifted slightly to the left, revealing the edge of a trapdoor beneath.

Evelyn knelt, heart pounding, and pulled the rug aside completely. The wooden door creaked as she lifted it, revealing a narrow staircase spiraling into darkness.

Her breath caught. Whatever lay below hadn’t been touched in years — and yet, something called to her.

Clutching her phone for light, she descended into the cold, musty air.

At the bottom was a small chamber, carved into the stone foundation of the house. Strange runes were etched along the walls, their curves and sharp lines glowing faintly blue — the same eerie hue as the mark on her arm.

In the center of the room stood a pedestal with a blackened mirror perched on top. Its surface rippled slightly, as if it were water instead of glass.

As Evelyn stepped forward, her reflection shimmered — and for a moment, she saw something else in the glass.

Not herself.

A woman with the same eyes, but older. Stronger. Surrounded by flickering spirits.

She stumbled back, gasping.

Footsteps echoed above. She froze.

“Evelyn?”

It was Liam. She exhaled shakily.

“Down here,” she called.

Moments later, his face appeared in the stairwell, worry etched deep into his features. “What is this place?”

“My mother’s,” she whispered. “A hidden room. I think she used it… for whatever she was hiding.”

Liam stepped into the room slowly, eyes scanning the glowing runes. “This is a crossing place. Between our world and theirs.”

He moved to the mirror, his expression tightening. “This... this is a gate.”

“A gate to what?”

“To the other side,” he said. “To the Veil.”

They both stared at the mirror, its surface pulsing softly like a heartbeat.

“I saw someone,” Evelyn said quietly. “In the reflection. She looked like me.”

“It might’ve been her,” Liam murmured. “Your mother.”

The thought struck like lightning — sudden, bright, and terrifying.

“What if she didn’t disappear?” Evelyn whispered. “What if she crossed over… and couldn’t come back?”

Liam looked at her, his hand gently brushing hers. “Then we’ll find a way to bring her back.”

The mark on Evelyn’s arm flared at his touch, the room around them briefly growing brighter, the runes humming.

And then the mirror… cracked.

A single hairline fracture split its surface, releasing a cold gust of air that snuffed out her phone’s light.

In the darkness, Evelyn felt something awaken.

The house remembered.

And so did the Veil.

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