Chapter Three
Whispers from the Past
Edward didn't speak to her for the rest of the night.
Typical. He acted like silence was a shield. Like if he didn't say it, it wasn't real.
But Amelia was done playing quiet.
By morning, she was already planning her next move. If he wouldn't talk, she'd find her own answers. Clues. Memories. Anything.
She crept past his bedroom door, tiptoed into the storage room they never opened—the one where her mom's things were packed away like forgotten dreams.
It smelled like dust and wood polish. Faintly sweet. Faintly sad.
She ran her fingers over the boxes, stopping at one labeled "Elvira's Books" in her dad's handwriting.
She opened it.
Fantasy novels, poetry journals, old notebooks. But at the very bottom, wrapped in a faded scarf, was a small, leather-bound diary.
No lock. No title.
Just her mom's initials on the front: E.R.
Her heart thumped as she opened it.
⸻
December 4th
I feel it again. The water calling me. It knows me better than I know myself.
December 15th
He said our daughter will feel it too. That her gift will awaken. I'm scared.
January 2nd
If anything happens to me, I hope she finds this. I hope she forgives me. And I hope she never steps into the lake. Not until she's ready.
⸻
Amelia's hands trembled.
What lake?
What gift?
Before she could flip the page, something shifted in the room. A cold breeze. The light flickered overhead.
Then—
The mirror on the wall fogged up.
No one had touched it. No one had breathed on it. But letters began to appear—written from the inside, like a finger tracing steam.
W A T C H
T H E
W A T E R
Her breath caught. She turned to the mirror, staring wide-eyed.
Then, as if someone reached out from the other side—her reflection blinked. But she didn't.
Her knees nearly gave out.
Whatever was happening to her... it wasn't over. It was just beginning.
Amelia didn't sleep that night.
How could she?
Her mom's diary lay open on her bed, its pages full of half-truths and warnings. Her reflection had blinked on its own. The mirror had whispered a message.
Watch the water.
Whatever was happening, it wasn't just in her head. Something—or someone—wanted her to see the truth.
By morning, she had made a decision. A stupid, dangerous, completely insane decision.
She was going to the lake.
⸻
It was tucked behind the woods at the edge of town, a place she barely remembered from childhood. Edward never mentioned it. Never took her there. He even changed the subject when she brought it up once, years ago.
Too late for warnings now.
She left before dawn, hoodie up, backpack packed with the diary, a flashlight, and an apple she knew she wouldn't eat.
The forest was wet and whispering with dew. Branches tugged at her sleeves as she followed a crooked path her feet somehow remembered, even when her mind didn't.
Then, through the trees, it appeared.
The lake.
Still. Silent. Too perfect. It didn't move with the breeze. Didn't ripple with birds or bugs or frogs.
It just watched.
Amelia stepped to the edge and knelt, heart hammering.
At first—nothing.
Then the water shimmered, like heat off pavement. A faint glow swirled at the center, and her reflection blurred.
It shifted. Changed.
Became someone else.
Elvira.
Her mother. Her hair longer. Her eyes shining.
And she was crying.
"Mom?" Amelia whispered, barely able to breathe.
Elvira didn't speak. But she raised a hand—and pointed behind Amelia.
Amelia turned fast. Nothing.
But when she looked back, the water wasn't just a reflection anymore.
It was a memory.
She saw Elvira—young, scared—standing at the water's edge. Edward was with her, holding her hand. They were arguing. Then... Elvira stepped back.
Something pulled her in. Dark shapes. Shadows with fingers. She screamed. And Edward—
He didn't stop it.
He just stood there. Watching.
⸻
Amelia stumbled away from the shore, tears stinging her eyes.
Her mother hadn't just disappeared