Elias burst back into the dimly lit Study, slamming the heavy mahogany door shut behind him. The high-pitched, metallic whine from the Silver-Inlaid Watch on his wrist was an urgent alarm, confirming the magnitude of the breach. The Echo of Mark Halloway was out, and it was loose in Oakhaven.
Silus, who had stayed behind, was methodically sharpening his shovel blade against a whetstone. He didn't look up, but his silence was demanding.
"It wasn't random vandalism," Elias said, pacing the room. "The Cross of Saint Jude was pulled from the grave. Someone knew where the binding artifact was and intentionally broke the seal. This is targeted."
"The dead don't need tools, Mr. Vance," Silus finally replied, the scrape of steel unnerving in the small room. "But the living do."
Elias snatched the Ledger of Lost Souls from the pedestal. The leather cover felt warmer now, almost feverish. He flipped the heavy pages until he reached Plot 714: Mark Halloway.
"If the Echo possessed the body, it gained an anchor," Elias muttered, reviewing the entry. "If I can't return the body, I have to dissolve the anchor. How did Grandpa Arthur deal with this?"
He scanned the faded, meticulous notes that flanked Halloway's burial details. Grandpa Arthur's elegant script was more than just record-keeping; it was a magical formula.
> Halloway (Plot 714): The Final Panic Echo. Bound by: The Sacred Iron of Jude, coupled with the Rite of Tranquil Reflection (Pages 55-57 of Volume II).
> Warning: Highly volatile Echo. Feeds on anxiety and cognitive dissonance. Will attempt to replace the host's personality by mimicking routine.
>
"He mimics routine," Elias repeated. A predator disguised as a neighbor. "Silus, get me Volume II. Now. I need the Rite of Tranquil Reflection."
Silus stopped sharpening. "Volume II is locked in the North Crypt. Arthur told you: the powerful Rites are only for those who have faced a full-spectrum Echo and survived."
"I am facing one now," Elias snapped, the adrenaline pushing past his fatigue. "It's walking around town! What good are rules if the world is ending?"
Silus simply pointed to the Watch. "That's your guide. Arthur didn't keep these Rites from you out of malice. He kept them from you so you wouldn't burn out. Every piece of power you use is a drain on your own connection to the Veil."
The Grandfather's Last Lesson
Elias reluctantly shelved the idea of the North Crypt. Silus was right; rash use of power was a weakness. He had to use what he had: the Ledger and his mind.
He reread the warning: Will attempt to replace the host's personality by mimicking routine.
"If Halloway's Echo is mimicking his daily life, where would he go first?" Elias asked.
"Mark Halloway was a creature of habit," Silus recalled, his gaze distant. "Every day, same time, three things: Black coffee at the Diner on the Point. Check his fishing boat at the pier. And then—the slot machine at the Rusty Anchor Bar."
"Perfect. It's predictable," Elias said, grabbing a handful of consecrated graveyard dirt from a clay jar on the shelf—a low-level magical deterrent. "But I can't just walk in and demand the corpse."
Elias realized he needed a new strategy, one that incorporated the rules of the Echoes.
He flipped the Ledger to the first pages detailing the general principles of Echo combat, searching for a non-lethal, non-ritual solution. He found a heavily underlined passage:
> Principle of Disassociation: The Echo derives its power from the host's residual spiritual energy and memory. It is vulnerable to powerful sensory overloads that disrupt its imitation pattern.
>
Elias looked down at the Watch. It wasn't just a timer for the Veil's structural integrity; it was an amplifier.
"I can create a sensory overload," Elias murmured, forming a desperate plan. "If the Watch lets me hear the Veil, it should let me broadcast the Veil. If I push the sound of the Veil's cracking into its proximity, it might overload the Echo's concentration, forcing it to drop the possession."
"Dangerous," Silus warned. "You use your own connection as the power source. You could rupture the Veil here."
"I have to try," Elias decided. He stuffed the Ledger into his coat pocket. "I'm going to the Rusty Anchor. If the Echo is there, I'll hit it with a blast of the Veil's energy and then use the consecrated dirt to create a temporary binding circle."
The Town's Resistance
The walk from the Cemetery gates to the center of Oakhaven was short, but it felt like traveling through a psychic current. Oakhaven was a small, quiet town, but Elias could feel the low-level hum of anxiety the Echo was feeding on. The Watch was a constant source of agony now, the cracks getting louder as he neared the center of the Echo's activity.
When he reached the Rusty Anchor Bar, the scene was unsettlingly normal. The air smelled of stale beer and fried fish. There were a handful of grizzled fishermen at the bar and a few old timers huddled around a slot machine in the corner.
And standing right by the flashing, blinking machine was Mark Halloway.
He looked exactly as he did in his funeral photo: clean-shaven, wearing a slightly too-tight fishing sweater. He was laughing—a high, unnatural sound—as he fed quarter after quarter into the machine.
But the laughter was too loud. The smile was too wide. And the air around him radiated that unsettling, dead warmth Elias had felt at the disturbed grave.
Elias approached the bar, trying to look like a tourist. The Watch was screaming at him; Halloway was a living nexus of unnatural energy.
"Give me a coffee, black," Elias ordered the bartender, trying to control the tremor in his voice.
He subtly pulled the Ledger out of his pocket, holding it loosely in his left hand, ready. In his right, he clutched a small baggie of the consecrated dirt.
Elias watched Halloway. The Echo was perfectly mimicking Halloway's routine, but it was overdoing it. Every pull of the lever was violent, every laugh forced. It was performing.
Suddenly, Halloway turned his head, his unnatural smile zeroing in on Elias.
"New around here?" Halloway asked, his voice exactly the tone of the deceased: friendly, booming, but now laced with a cold, predatory undertone.
Elias swallowed. "Just inherited the Cemetery."
Halloway's smile widened. "Ah, the new Gatekeeper. Your grandpa was a quiet man. Kept things in order." He walked toward Elias, effortlessly crossing the distance. "I hear the dead are getting restless, though. Trouble at the Pines?"
The Echo was directly confronting him. This wasn't a mimic; this was a deliberate taunt. It knew who Elias was.
The Rite of Immediate Disassociation
Elias knew he had to act before the Echo drew any more energy from the surrounding fear and anxiety.
He pressed the face of the Silver Watch hard against his wrist. The ticking STOPPED. For a second, there was total silence. Then, Elias focused all his will, using the Watch as a conduit, and pushed the cacophony of the Veil into the room.
The sound wasn't audible to the fishermen, but to Elias and the Echo, it was an overwhelming blast.
CRACK. WHINE. SHATTER. ROAR.
It was the sound of reality tearing apart.
Mark Halloway recoiled violently, his unnatural smile dissolving into a rictus of pure, terrified pain. His eyes glazed over, the humanity draining out, leaving behind a cold, black emptiness. The body seized up, dropping the quarters.
"STOP THE NOISE! IT BURNS!" the Echo shrieked, the sound coming not from Halloway's throat, but from deep within his chest, a sound like grinding stone.
The Echo was stunned, forced out of its focus.
Elias acted instantly. He ripped open the bag of consecrated dirt and flung a wide circle around the seizing body. As the dirt landed, it hissed, a faint, sickly green smoke rising from the dust. It wasn't a powerful binding, but it was a temporary wall.
The fishermen, meanwhile, saw only Mark Halloway having a massive, silent seizure on the floor.
"Call an ambulance!" Chief Hollis, who had followed Elias, rushed in from the doorway, having seen only the physical collapse. She knelt beside the convulsing body.
Elias knew he had only seconds before the temporary consecrated dirt barrier failed or the Echo recovered. He had to finish the binding before Halloway was taken to a hospital, which would break the Gatekeeper's quarantine.
He pulled out the Ledger, finding Halloway's entry again. He quickly drew the ancient, sealing symbol of the Sacred Iron of Jude over the page with a piece of charcoal he always carried. He pressed the Ledger hard against the floor, right on the edge of the dust circle.
"Maintain the balance, Elias," his grandfather's silent command echoed in his mind.
As the charcoal symbol connected with the floor, the green smoke thickened, and the Halloway body beneath it went completely limp. The cold warmth dissipated. The Watch's whine dropped back to a low, manageable hum.
The Echo was contained.
Elias stood, breathing heavily, the Ledger clutched tight. He looked at the Chief and the terrified onlookers who now saw only a medical emergency.
He had won the first battle, but he was left with a body, a terrified town, and the realization that his real enemies—the ones who broke the seal—were still out there, hiding among the living.