Phoenix
Monday morning—the same old routine. I dragged myself out of bed, got ready, and headed to school. Once I reached my class, I dropped my bag on my seat and flopped down, letting out a tired sigh. Finn was already there, chatting away about some random gossip from the weekend. I nodded along, not really paying attention, until the bell rang.
After enduring the first few classes, I figured I'd head to the canteen before it got too crowded. I was halfway down the hallway when it hit me—our school had archives of old cases. They kept them in the library, and it was open to students if they wanted to do some "research" or whatever.
Why didn't I think of this earlier? If that mansion incident was as big as it seemed, there had to be something on it in the archives. Without wasting any time, I spun on my heels and made my way to the library.
The place was pretty empty—most students preferred the canteen or just hung out in the courtyard during breaks. The librarian barely glanced at me as I walked past, heading straight to the back where they kept the archives. There were rows and rows of old newspapers, files, and clippings stacked neatly on dusty shelves.
I took a deep breath, trying not to sneeze from all the dust. After a few minutes of digging through labeled boxes, I finally found the one marked "Local Incidents - 20XX to 20XY". I pulled it out and set it on the table, rifling through the files.
It didn't take long to find a few articles related to the mansion—one from a local newspaper caught my eye.
"Tragedy Strikes the Hawthorn Mansion - Family of Four Found Dead"
I skimmed through the article, feeling a chill crawl down my spine. The family consisted of a man, his wife, their teenage daughter, and their young son. All of them were found dead under mysterious circumstances. The article mentioned that foul play was suspected, but no one was ever convicted. The father was initially a suspect, but he went missing shortly after the incident.
My heart sank as I read more. The daughter was found with signs of assault before being shot, while the boy showed signs of starvation and blunt force trauma. It was sickening.
There was another article from a few months later stating that the case was closed due to a lack of evidence and the father's disappearance. People in the neighborhood reported strange occurrences ever since the tragedy, but no one dared to go near the mansion.
I felt my hands trembling a bit as I read through the gruesome details. It was more horrifying than I imagined. That poor girl—and the boy...
I couldn't help but wonder—was that really just a dream I had, or was it their memory forcing itself into my head? Either way, I had to tell Ace about this. He needed to know. Maybe this would give us a clue on how to help them find peace.
I took a few pictures of the articles with my phone and closed the file. As I left the library, I couldn't shake the unsettling feeling gnawing at my gut. The deeper I dug into this, the more twisted it became.
I couldn't help but whisper under my breath, "What the hell happened in that house...?"
But then, something caught my eye—a small follow-up article tucked in the corner of the page. The headline read:
"Identity of Unidentified Corpse Confirmed: Father of the Victims"
My breath hitched. I quickly scanned the text, trying to make sense of it. The article stated that after thorough investigation and DNA testing, the previously unidentified body found at the mansion was later confirmed to be the father himself—the same man who was accused of murdering his family.
The plot thickened. If the father was dead too, then who was the real killer? The article mentioned that once the father's identity was confirmed, the investigation took a sharp turn. Suspicion fell on the father's younger brother and his family, who supposedly had a long-standing feud with him over property inheritance. But despite all suspicions, no solid evidence was found to link them to the crime.
Eventually, the case went cold, and it was officially closed without anyone being arrested. The police just labeled it as a murder-suicide, assuming the father killed his family and then took his own life.
But that didn't make sense. The nightmares, the memories—they didn't line up with that theory at all. If the father was dead, who was the man I saw chasing the girl in my dream? Was it really him, or could it have been someone else entirely?
I leaned back, trying to process it all. None of this added up. If the father's corpse was found, then why did the dream feel like he was the one doing all those horrible things? Was it possible the spirit was manipulating memories, or was there a deeper story that hadn't been uncovered yet?
The thought made my head spin. I couldn't just keep this to myself. I snapped a few more pictures of the articles, making sure to get every detail. Ace needed to see this. Maybe he could make sense of it, or at least figure out why the spirits were showing me those specific memories.
I put the files back, making sure everything looked untouched, and hurried out of the library. As I walked down the hallway, my mind was racing. There was definitely more to this story than what the police reports showed.
The real question was—if the father didn't do it, then who did? And why were the spirits still trapped in that mansion, reliving their pain over and over again?
I gritted my teeth, determined to get to the bottom of it. No way I was letting this mystery stay buried. Those souls deserved peace, and I wasn't about to give up on them.
I carefully folded the newspaper clipping and stuffed it into my bag, making sure it didn't get crumpled. The librarian didn't even glance my way as I slipped out of the library, my heart pounding with excitement and confusion.
As soon as I was out in the hallway, I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. This was big—way bigger than I initially thought. I needed to tell someone, and Atlas was the first person that came to mind.
I quickly made my way to his class, weaving through the crowded hallways as the next period was about to start. When I finally reached his classroom door, I peeked through the small glass panel. Class was still in session, and Atlas was sitting near the back, looking as disinterested as ever. Typical.
I leaned against the wall, trying to steady my breathing. There was no way I could just barge in and drag him out without causing a scene. So, I settled for waiting, tapping my foot impatiently against the floor. A few students glanced my way as they passed, but I ignored them, too caught up in my thoughts to care.
I kept replaying the information in my head. The father was dead, but the way the spirits acted... it didn't match up. Something about the whole thing felt wrong, and I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this story.
The bell rang, finally, and students began to file out. I stood up straight, searching for Atlas among the sea of people. When I spotted him, I didn't waste any time. I grabbed his sleeve and pulled him aside, ignoring his surprised look.
"Whoa, Nixy—what's with the urgency?" Atlas asked, raising a brow.
"I found something," I whispered, glancing around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. "Something really important. You're not gonna believe this."
His playful smile faded, replaced by a serious expression. "Alright. Let's go somewhere quiet. You look like you're about to explode."
I nodded, and we headed toward the empty stairwell at the far end of the corridor. Once we were alone, I pulled out the newspaper clipping and handed it to him.
Atlas scanned the article, his eyes widening as he read. He looked back at me, clearly stunned. "You're telling me the father was dead the whole time?"
I nodded. "Exactly. The case was ruled as a murder-suicide, but that doesn't make sense with what I saw. Plus, the suspicion on his brother and family... it just doesn't add up. If he was dead, then who was the man I saw chasing the girl?"
Atlas frowned, tapping the paper against his palm. "It could mean that either someone framed the father or... the spirit we saw is twisting the memories somehow. Maybe it's not showing the whole truth."
"That's what I'm thinking," I replied, frustrated. "But how do we know what's real and what isn't? If the spirits are stuck in some kind of loop, they might not even realize what really happened."
Atlas put a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "We'll figure it out. Let's meet up with Ace and Xavier after school and go over this. We can't just leave it hanging."
I nodded, feeling a bit more at ease with him by my side. "Yeah... you're right. We'll get to the bottom of this."
Atlas smiled, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze.
"Good job, Nixy. You're smarter than you give yourself credit for."
I couldn't help but roll my eyes at the nickname, but deep down, I was grateful for his support. At least I wasn't facing this mystery alone.
Ace scanned the newspaper clipping with a serious expression, his eyes narrowing as he took in the details. I could tell his brain was already running a mile a minute, analyzing every word and trying to make sense of it.
Atlas and I had plopped down on the couch, and I couldn't help but lean back, exhausted from the whole ordeal. Xavier was seated at the dining table, Kuro comfortably curled up in his lap. He absentmindedly stroked the cat's fur, but his focus was on Ace.
"This makes no sense," Ace finally muttered, placing the paper on the coffee table. "If the father's been dead all along, then who's the guy Phoenix saw chasing the girl? It doesn't add up."
"That's what I was saying," I replied, crossing my arms. "The memories aren't lining up with the facts. Either the spirits are confused, or someone's manipulating the story."
Xavier hummed thoughtfully, his fingers still combing through Kuro's fur. "Is it possible that one of the spirits is projecting a false memory to keep us away from the truth? Spirits with strong grudges tend to warp their perceptions."
Ace glanced at him, considering the possibility. "That's not too far-fetched. If the spirit believes something happened a certain way, it could twist the memory to match that belief. But that still doesn't explain why the father's spirit is hostile. Usually, spirits who die with a sense of guilt or unfinished business don't act that way."
Atlas looked between them, his arms casually draped over the back of the couch. "Maybe the father didn't die the way the report says. What if someone killed him and made it look like a suicide to cover up their tracks?"
Ace looked down at the clipping again, deep in thought. "It would make sense if someone wanted to get rid of him and take over the mansion. But that doesn't explain why his spirit is restless or why the other spirits are so angry."
I let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through my hair. "I feel like we're missing something crucial. Something that ties all these pieces together."
Xavier glanced up at me, his expression thoughtful. "You mentioned that the girl was being chased by the man. Are you sure it was the father?"
I hesitated, recalling the horrifying memory. "Honestly... I can't be sure. The face was familiar from the newspaper, but... it felt off. Like something wasn't right."
Atlas reached out and ruffled my hair, making me swat his hand away. "Stop it."
"Relax, Nixy. We'll figure it out," he said with a smirk. "Ace, why don't we try heading back there tonight? Maybe confronting the spirits directly will give us more clues."
Ace shook his head. "Not until we have a solid plan. If the spirits are that agitated, just barging in will get us killed. We need to find out more about the family first. Who the father's brother was and what his connection might be."
Xavier nodded. "I can look into the family records and see if anything stands out. There must be something that points to a motive or a grudge."
"Good idea," Ace agreed. "Phoenix, you and Atlas keep digging through the archives. Find anything related to the family history or past disputes. If the father was framed, we might find hints of it in old news articles or records."
I nodded, feeling a bit more determined now that we had a direction. "Got it."
Atlas stretched lazily, giving me a wink. "Guess we're on another mission, huh? Try not to get too distracted staring at me while we're at it."
I scoffed, shoving him lightly. "In your dreams, Mr. Flirt."
Ace rolled his eyes at our antics but didn't comment, too caught up in his own thoughts. Xavier just watched quietly, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
We had a lot of work to do, but at least we weren't doing it alone. Whatever secrets that mansion held, we'd find them—together.