Chapter 13 – Echoes in the Hall
Morning came gray and heavy. The rain had stopped, but the world outside the estate was drowned in mist. Amara woke first, the scent of damp stone filling the room. For a moment she thought the night's chaos had been a dream—until she saw the black key on the bedside table.
Damian sat by the window, staring at the fog-blurred garden. He hadn't slept.
"She left something else," he said. He held up a folded page, edges burned.
Amara took it carefully. It wasn't Lydia's handwriting. The letters were precise, almost mechanical.
> The truth you seek lies beneath the floor.
A dull sound echoed from below, as if someone—or something—was moving through the cellar.
Damian grabbed a lantern. "Stay here."
Amara shook her head. "Not this time."
They descended the narrow stairs. The air grew colder with every step. In the cellar, crates lay scattered, and old photographs were pinned to the wall—pictures of Damian, Lydia, and another man whose face had been crossed out in ink.
Amara traced the lines. "Is that Ethan?"
Before Damian could answer, a voice spoke from the shadows.
"No. That's the one who made us both."
Amara's pulse froze. The lantern flickered once more—and when the light steadied, the stranger's face was no longer hidden.
The past had finally found them.