Chapter 16
The moment Olivia screamed, "Run!", the house answered.
It roared—not with a voice, but with its bones. The very foundation groaned, the walls shook, and the coldness that had once whispered now howled, surging through the corridors like a storm unchained. The door slammed shut behind them with a deafening boom, trapping them inside the ritual chamber. No exit. No light. Only the altar. Only Lila.
James threw his shoulder against the door, again and again, grunting in agony as the wood refused to budge. Henry stood frozen, staring at Lila's lifeless form, his face pale and drenched in sweat.
"Olivia, what is this place?" Henry finally choked out, his voice raw with fear.
She didn't answer.
She couldn't.
Because it was speaking to her again.
The house.
It was no longer whispering—it was pleading. Screaming through the walls. Through her.
She's the key. She must choose. Blood or blood. Soul or soul.
And Olivia… she understood now. The symbols. The pulsing stone. Lila. This room wasn't just a chamber—it was a passage. A place where one soul could anchor another. That was how her sister had survived, how she had changed. She had been bound to something ancient, and now that ancient force wanted to finish what it started.
Lila was the offering. But it wasn't enough. Now Olivia had to choose.
Either she would replace her sister on the altar…
Or give the house someone else.
Her eyes darted to James and Henry, her chest tightening with the realization.
"I don't want to do this," she whispered aloud, voice breaking. "I'm not a killer."
The shadows curled along the edges of the room, rising like tendrils of smoke. A dark, hollow laughter echoed around them, as if the house had found her answer amusing.
"You're not," the voice said again—his voice. The man from the attic. The one who had come for her.
Olivia spun around. There he was, stepping out from the wall like he was made of it. Pale, sharp, ancient. His eyes were too bright, like moonlight reflected in ink.
"You just have to choose," he said gently. "The house doesn't demand cruelty. Only balance."
James backed away. "Who the hell is that?"
Henry stepped protectively in front of Olivia. "What are you talking about? Choose what?"
But Olivia knew.
The figure looked only at her, ignoring the rest. "One must stay. One must carry the curse. You leave… and someone takes your place. Otherwise, you all die."
It wasn't fair. It was never fair.
The house was not evil—but it was ravenous. It was not cruel—but it was old. It did not think in morals, only in exchange.
"You were always meant to be the one," the figure continued. "But you were loved. You were protected. Lila… she was overlooked."
"She wasn't overlooked," Olivia hissed, stepping toward him. "She was abandoned."
A bitter smile played on his lips. "Exactly."
He turned to the altar and raised his hand.
Lila's body jerked violently.
"No!" Henry cried, rushing forward.
The man didn't even touch him—just flicked a finger—and Henry was thrown back across the room, slamming into the far wall with a sickening crack.
"Stop it!" Olivia screamed. "Stop hurting them!"
"Then choose," he said.
James moved beside Olivia, his hand brushing hers.
"Don't," he whispered. "Whatever it is, don't let it break you."
She could hardly breathe. Her heart pounded so hard it felt like it would burst from her chest. The shadows coiled tighter, the cold seeping deeper into her skin.
The man walked up to her and whispered in her ear.
"You don't need to sacrifice either of them. You can take your sister's place. The house will accept it."
"And if I don't?"
He stepped back. "Then it takes all three of you."
The decision carved itself into her bones. A tear slipped down her cheek.
James grabbed her hand tighter. "Don't. We'll find another way."
Olivia looked at him—his eyes so filled with trust, with warmth—and then to Henry, struggling to rise, groaning in pain. Her eyes fell last on Lila.
Her sister.
Her mirror.
The girl who had once stood beside her in every childhood memory. Who had laughed at her jokes. Who had cried when their parents left. Who had faded into the background until even Olivia forgot to look.
The girl who had been devoured because she wasn't seen.
"I'm sorry," Olivia whispered.
James's eyes widened in panic. "No—Olivia—what are you doing?"
She stepped forward, climbing onto the altar, the cold biting into her palms as she lay beside her sister.
The man smiled.
"Good girl."
The moment she closed her eyes, the stone flared red. The room trembled. Lila's body convulsed—then gasped, her chest rising with breath, her eyes snapping open.
And Olivia…
Fell.
Not through space. Not through time.
But through herself.
The last thing she heard was Henry's scream.
The last thing she felt was James's hand slipping from hers.
Then…
Darkness.
And somewhere, far below the bones of the house…
Something began to wake.