Chapter 4: Echoes of the Past
"What do you mean I was part of it?" she finally managed to ask, her voice trembling. "I don't even remember being here before."
Lucian's gaze softened, and for a fleeting moment, he looked almost human. Almost alive. "You don't remember because you've been made to forget," he said. "They took your memories, Evelyn. To protect themselves. To keep you from undoing what they did."
"They?" she pressed, gripping the arm of the chair she'd sunk into. "Who are they? And why me? Why any of this?"
He sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair, his shoulders slumping under a weight she couldn't see. "It's hard to explain. But this manor… it's more than a place. It's a prison, yes, but also a tether. It holds onto everyone who's been wronged here. Everyone who's… died here. And you, Evelyn, you were here the night it all began."
Her breath hitched. "The night what began?"
Lucian hesitated, his jaw tightening. He looked toward the fire crackling softly in the hearth, as if searching for the right words among the dancing flames. "A ritual," he said finally. "A ritual that went terribly wrong. Or terribly right, depending on whose side you're on."
Evelyn shook her head, the words feeling foreign and unreal. "A ritual? Like magic or something? That's… that's ridiculous."
"Is it?" Lucian countered, his tone sharper now. He stepped closer, his presence imposing despite the flickering firelight. "You've seen what this place is. You've felt it. Don't tell me you still think it's just a creepy old house."
She didn't respond. She couldn't. Because he was right. The house was alive in a way that defied reason, and every instinct she had screamed at her to believe him, no matter how insane it sounded.
"Fine," she said finally, her voice trembling. "Let's say I believe you. Let's say I was here for this ritual. Why would I have been part of something like that?"
Lucian looked at her then, his eyes dark and heavy with something she couldn't name. "Because you loved me," he said softly.
Evelyn felt the air leave her lungs. "What?"
"You loved me," he repeated, his voice tinged with both sadness and longing. "And I loved you. That's why you were here. That's why you…" He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the floor. "That's why you did what you did."
Her heart was racing now, a thousand questions fighting to be asked. "What I did?" she echoed. "What are you talking about?"
Lucian didn't answer right away. Instead, he moved to the desk in the center of the room, his fingers brushing over the scattered papers and strange objects that lay there. Finally, he picked up a small, ornate box and turned back to her.
"This," he said, holding the box out to her. "Maybe this will help you remember."
Evelyn took the box hesitantly, her hands shaking. It was surprisingly light, its surface etched with intricate patterns that seemed to shift in the firelight. She glanced up at Lucian, who nodded encouragingly.
With a deep breath, she opened the box. Inside was a ring—delicate and beautiful, with a dark red stone that seemed to glow faintly. As soon as her fingers brushed against it, a jolt of energy shot through her, and she gasped, her vision blurring.
Images flashed before her eyes, too fast to make sense of. A grand ballroom filled with people in elegant clothing. Lucian, smiling at her as they danced. A circle of figures cloaked in black, chanting words she couldn't understand. Fire. Screams. Darkness.
She stumbled back, dropping the box and the ring as she clutched her head. "What was that?" she demanded, her voice shaking.
"Your memories," Lucian said, his expression grim. "Or pieces of them, at least."
Evelyn shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "No. No, that can't be real. That wasn't me. I don't remember any of it."
"I know," Lucian said softly. "But it was you, Evelyn. And if you want to understand what happened that night, you have to face it. You have to remember."
She sank back into the chair, her body trembling. The images had felt so real, like she was there, living them. But they couldn't be hers. They couldn't.
"Why?" she whispered after a long moment. "Why did it happen? Why was there a ritual?"
Lucian hesitated again, his gaze distant. "Because I was dying," he said finally. "And you couldn't let me go."
The words hit her like a punch to the gut. She looked up at him, her vision blurred with tears. "I don't… I don't understand."
"I was sick," he explained, his voice heavy with the weight of the past. "There was nothing the doctors could do. And you… you were desperate. You found someone who claimed they could save me. But it required a sacrifice."
Evelyn's stomach turned. "A sacrifice?"
Lucian nodded. "A life for a life. That's the deal they made you. And you agreed."
Her breath caught in her throat. "No," she whispered, shaking her head. "I wouldn't. I couldn't."
"You did," Lucian said, his voice gentle but firm. "But something went wrong. The ritual didn't just take a life—it bound them. All of us. To this place. Forever."
Evelyn buried her face in her hands, her mind reeling. It was too much. Too impossible. And yet, deep down, some part of her knew he was telling the truth.
"I didn't mean to," she choked out. "I didn't want this."
Lucian knelt beside her, his hand hovering near hers but never touching. "I know," he said softly. "But now you have a chance to fix it. To set us free."
She looked up at him, her eyes filled with despair. "How?"
Lucian's gaze hardened with determination. "We start by finding the one who performed the ritual. They're still out there, Evelyn. And they're the only ones who can tell us how to end it."
Evelyn swallowed hard, her mind racing. She didn't know if she could do this. But she also knew she couldn't walk away. Not now. Not after everything.
"Okay," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "Let's find them."
Lucian nodded, a flicker of hope lighting his dark eyes. "We will," he said. "Together."