ch10

Chapter 10: Echoes of the Past

The study was silent, but Claire felt the weight of unseen eyes pressing against her skin. The door through which they had escaped—the hidden passage that had led them from the depths of Blackwood Manor—was gone. In its place was nothing but a solid wooden wall, as if the tunnel had never existed.

Samuel ran a hand through his hair, pacing near the cold fireplace. "This doesn't make sense. We were just down there! We saw—" He stopped himself, shaking his head.

Claire tightened her grip on Eleanor Blackwood's diary. "We didn't imagine it."

She turned to the desk, running her fingers over the aged wood. The letter they had found in the underground study—Eleanor's warning about the caretaker—was still tucked into her pocket. Her mind raced.

"Why had Eleanor been left behind?"

"And more importantly—who was watching them now?"

Claire's eyes flicked to the portrait of Eleanor hanging above the fireplace. The smudged paint around her hands was still there, but something was different. The slight part in her lips had deepened.

Like she was trying to speak.

A cold shiver ran through Claire. "Samuel, look at the painting."

Samuel turned, following her gaze. He frowned, stepping closer. "Was… was her mouth always like that?"

Before Claire could answer, a soft sound filled the room.

A whisper.

It drifted through the air like a breath of wind, carrying words neither of them could fully understand. The syllables were old, distant.

Claire's chest tightened. "Eleanor?"

The whispering stopped.

Then—

A single book tumbled from the shelf.

It landed with a dull thump on the wooden floor, its cover clouded with dust. Claire knelt, wiping it clean. The title was barely visible under layers of grime.

'The Blackwood Bloodline.'

Her fingers hesitated before opening it. The pages were yellowed, brittle with age, but the ink remained clear. The Blackwood family tree was drawn inside, each name connected by delicate lines.

Her eyes scanned the generations—until she found Eleanor's.

She traced the ink, but something strange caught her attention. Unlike the others, Eleanor's name wasn't connected to anyone below her.

No children.

No descendants.

Just an empty space.

Claire frowned. "That doesn't make sense. If she died in the manor, why didn't they record it?"

Samuel leaned over her shoulder. "Maybe because they didn't want anyone to know what happened to her."

Claire's heart pounded. "What if Eleanor hadn't simply vanished? What if something had been done to erase her?"

She flipped further, past the genealogy. The next pages were filled with journal entries—not from Eleanor, but from someone else.

Someone documenting the Blackwood family's darkest secrets.

Her pulse quickened as she read.

***"October 12, 1892—The ritual was incomplete. Eleanor resisted. We were unable to bind her to the family's will. And now… she lingers."***

Claire's breath caught in her throat.

***"Her spirit cannot leave. Not until the ritual is complete."***

She looked up at Samuel, her voice barely above a whisper. "They tried to sacrifice her. But they failed."

Samuel's expression darkened. "So she's trapped?"

Claire nodded. "And if we don't stop this… she'll never be free."

A sudden gust of cold air swept through the study, flickering the candlelight. The whispers returned, louder now—desperate.

Claire stood abruptly, her mind racing.

Eleanor's final words in her diary echoed in her head.

'I am still here.'

Claire turned back to the portrait. The shadows around Eleanor's painted eyes seemed deeper. For a brief, terrible moment, Claire thought she saw them move.

She stepped closer, her pulse pounding.

Then she realized—

Eleanor was trying to speak.

But not through the painting.

Through the walls.

Claire grabbed the candle from the desk and held it up to the portrait. The flame wavered, revealing the faint outline of a hidden seam in the wood. A panel. A door.

"Samuel," she breathed. "There's something behind this."

Samuel was already beside her, helping push against the wooden frame. The panel groaned before swinging open—revealing a narrow, dust-choked passage.

The whispers surged, wrapping around them like unseen hands.

And in the depths of the hidden space…

A single set of footprints led away into the darkness.

Claire's heart pounded. "She's waiting for us."

And this time—she wasn't going to fail.

To be continued…

***********************************************

A/N:Next will be on 21 apr. tommaro will be the chapter brakedown. save this book pls.vote with gems.