Chapter 19
The stairs were steep, slick with moss and centuries of silence. Henry carried Lila on his back—her body limp, her breath faint but steady. The corridor behind them had sealed shut, entombing James with the tree, with Scarlet.
But the memory of her scream still rang in the stones.
Lila stirred, murmuring something incomprehensible. Her fingers twitched, as though trying to claw her way out of sleep.
Henry kept going. Step after step. Until the air began to warm. Until candlelight flickered again, and the stone gave way to familiar floorboards.
They had returned to the house.
To the altar room.
But something had changed.
Olivia was sitting up.
Her skin was pale. Her lips blue. But her eyes—her eyes were open.
"Lila?" Olivia rasped.
Henry froze. "She's alive?"
Olivia blinked. "I… I remember… I was beneath. I heard everything." Her hands trembled. "I saw Scarlet… in the roots. I saw James…"
Her voice cracked.
Henry knelt, gently placing Lila down beside her.
"She saved you," he whispered. "And James… bought us the time we needed."
Olivia reached out, brushing Lila's face. "She's burning up."
Henry nodded. "Scarlet left a scar in her."
Olivia's gaze rose, meeting his. "But you… how did you know the words? The rite?"
Henry didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he moved to the cracked mirror frame, placing his bloodied palm against the wall where the tree once lived—where the altar pulsed just hours before.
"I never wanted to remember," he said at last.
Olivia stared. "What do you mean?"
"I'm not just someone who found this house."
He turned slowly, eyes darker now. Older. Haunted.
"I was born in it."
Olivia's breath hitched.
"My mother was the last vessel before Scarlet," Henry said. "She didn't survive the ritual. The house fed on her soul and left me in its rot. I grew up among bones and whispers. And I forgot. On purpose. Because remembering meant knowing I was born of a curse."
He looked at Lila.
"But the house… it never let me go. And when we came back here, it started bleeding through again. Dreams. Words. I remembered the rites. The binding. The price."
Olivia whispered, "That's why you knew her name. Before any of us said it."
Henry nodded. "Scarlet has always known mine."
Silence followed—heavy and grief-ridden.
Then Lila gasped sharply, sitting bolt upright. Her eyes wild.
"It's not over," she croaked.
Both Henry and Olivia reached for her, but she shoved them back.
"She's not dead. She just fell deeper. She's underneath the first bones. The house is older than even she is. And it's still alive."
Henry paled. "What do you mean—first bones?"
Lila looked up, her pupils too wide. "The house was built over something. Something ancient. Something Scarlet was only ever a part of."
Olivia shook her head. "How can it go deeper than this?"
Lila touched the floor. "There's one more level. The house's origin. The basement that's not on any map. The place the foundation hides."
Henry stood slowly. "We need to burn it."
"No," Lila said, voice hollow. "It won't burn. You can't kill memory with fire."
Olivia whispered, "Then how?"
Lila's answer was almost too soft to hear.
"You bury it. Alive."
Henry's expression hardened. "Then we find that basement. And we make sure it never wakes again."
But behind them, unseen—
A single drop of blood fell from the cracked ceiling.
It hissed when it touched the altar.
And far beneath the house, something opened its eyes.