Chapter Ten: The Echo of a Name

The nameplate in Leon's hands felt wrong.

It shouldn't exist.

And yet, there it was—rusted, crumbling, engraved with his name.

Elena stared at it, her mind racing. It had to be a coincidence. There had to be another Leon Blackwell. Someone long dead. Someone whose grave had been forgotten.

But deep down, she knew better.

Nothing in Blackwood Hollow was ever that simple.

She swallowed hard. "Leon… what is this?"

Leon didn't answer. He hadn't moved since pulling it from the hollow in the wall. His grip on the metal was tight—too tight—his knuckles pale against the dim lantern light.

"Elena."

His voice was quiet. Steady.

And yet, something in it made the air thicker.

She shivered. "What?"

Slowly, Leon lifted his gaze to hers. His eyes—normally dark, unreadable—seemed to catch the flickering light in a way that didn't feel natural. Too sharp. Too knowing.

"This isn't the first time I've seen this nameplate."

Elena's breath caught.

Her pulse thundered.

"What do you mean?" she whispered.

Leon looked at the nameplate again, his jaw tightening. "It was in a different place before."

Elena felt the hair on her arms rise.

"The grave was somewhere else?"

"No." His fingers traced the edge of the rusted metal. "The house was."

The words settled heavily between them.

Leon let go of the nameplate, letting it fall to the dirt floor with a dull clink. Then, as if drawn by some unseen force, he reached back into the hollow.

Elena's breath hitched. "Leon, wait—"

His fingers brushed against something else.

And then—

A whisper.

Not from him.

Not from her.

From the walls.

The same voice as before. The same faint, ghostly murmur that had whispered his name when they first uncovered the grave.

But this time, it said something different.

Something that sent a cold rush of dread through Elena's veins.

"You were never meant to return."

The lantern flickered violently.

And the house— the entire house—creaked, as if something deep in its bones had awakened.