Chapter 2: Bound by Shadows

Evelyn's mind raced, her breath shallow as she tried to process what she was seeing. Lucian's face was exactly as she remembered—sharp cheekbones, dark hair falling just over his brow, and those piercing eyes that seemed to see straight through her. But it couldn't be him. Lucian had been gone for years. She had been at his funeral. She had cried for him.

"You're not real," she whispered, her voice trembling. "You can't be real."

Lucian took a step toward her, his movements slow and deliberate, as though he were afraid of startling her. "I am real, Evelyn," he said softly. "I'm as real as you are."

She shook her head, backing up until her shoulders hit the doorframe. Her hands gripped the edge of the wood, her nails digging into the splintered surface. "This is a dream," she said, her voice rising. "Or a trick. Someone's playing a trick on me."

Lucian stopped a few feet from her, his expression pained. "I wish it were that simple," he said. "But you know it's not."

Evelyn's chest tightened as the weight of his words settled over her. Deep down, a part of her knew he was right. The whispers, the letter, the oppressive pull of the house—it all pointed to something beyond her understanding. And yet, she couldn't bring herself to believe it. Not yet.

"If you're real," she said, her voice shaking, "then explain this. Explain why you're here, why you sent me that letter. Why now?"

Lucian hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I didn't send the letter," he admitted. "But I know why you're here. And I know why you're the only one who can help."

Evelyn's stomach twisted. "Help with what?"

Lucian looked up, his dark eyes meeting hers. "The curse," he said. "The one that binds this house—and everyone in it."

The room seemed to grow colder, the shadows in the corners stretching and shifting as though they were alive. Evelyn shivered, wrapping her arms around herself as she tried to make sense of his words.

"A curse?" she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. "What curse? Lucian, what are you talking about?"

He stepped closer, his expression urgent. "This house isn't just a house, Evelyn. It's a prison. A prison for the souls of everyone who has ever died here. And you… you were part of the ritual that created it."

Evelyn's heart skipped a beat. "No," she said, shaking her head. "That's not possible. I would remember something like that."

"You don't remember because they took your memories," Lucian said. "To protect themselves. To protect the curse."

Her legs felt weak, and she stumbled back, her mind reeling. The room seemed to tilt around her, the flickering candlelight casting eerie shadows on the walls. "Who?" she demanded, her voice trembling. "Who are they?"

Lucian's jaw tightened, and his gaze darkened. "The ones who performed the ritual. The ones who bound me—and you—to this place. They're still out there, Evelyn. And they'll do whatever it takes to stop you from breaking the curse."

Evelyn stared at him, her mind spinning. None of it made sense, and yet, deep down, she felt the truth of his words. The pull she had felt when she received the letter, the whispers that seemed to echo through the house—it was all connected.

"What do I have to do?" she asked, her voice barely audible.

Lucian hesitated, his expression softening. "You have to remember," he said. "You have to face what happened here, Evelyn. It's the only way to set us free."

The weight of his words settled over her, and she felt a chill run down her spine. Whatever had happened in this house, whatever she had been a part of, it wasn't just a relic of the past. It was alive, and it was waiting for her.

"Okay," she said, her voice trembling but resolute. "Tell me what to do."