Chapter 20: The Curtain Between Worlds
Chapter 20: The Curtain Between Worlds
The night was deep, pressing against the guesthouse like a living thing.
Sam lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, sleep evading him. His mind wouldn't quiet—not after everything that had happened.
Elias. The guest room. The key.
The ledger had told him outright: You have the key.
And yet, no matter how much he wracked his brain, he couldn't recall ever seeing one.
His uncle had never given him a key to that room. He had never even seen the door unlocked. Had it always been that way? Or was it only locked for him?
Sam shifted under the blanket, a strange sense of unease creeping into his chest.
He turned his head toward the window. The curtains swayed slightly, though there was no wind.
For a moment, it felt like someone was watching him.
A trick of the mind.
He sighed and rolled onto his side.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow, he would rehearse. And maybe, somehow, that would bring him closer to understanding Elias.
Why acting? Why him?
Had Elias been an actor? Was he just a bored ghost looking for entertainment? Or—
Did he want something else?
Sam's eyelids grew heavy. His thoughts blurred together, exhaustion finally catching up to him.
As he drifted toward sleep, he heard something.
A voice.
Faint. Indistinct.
Like a whisper slipping through the walls.
His breath hitched. His fingers curled into the sheets.
But before he could react—
The darkness pulled him under.
---
Sam stood on a stage.
The theater was massive, larger than anything he had ever seen. Rows upon rows of empty seats stretched before him, swallowed in darkness. The only light came from the stage lamps, casting long, eerie shadows across the wooden floor.
The air smelled of dust and something faintly metallic.
He took a step forward. His footfalls echoed.
His script was in his hands. When had he picked it up?
A presence loomed behind him.
He turned—
And saw a figure standing at the edge of the stage.
Not quite in the light.
Not quite human.
The shape flickered, unstable, but the presence was unmistakable.
"Elias?" Sam called.
No response.
The figure shifted, as if tilting its head. Watching. Waiting.
Sam swallowed. The air was thick, pressing against his chest.
He looked down at the script in his hands.
He had to perform.
The moment that thought entered his mind, something clicked.
Like this was what he was meant to do.
Like the stage was a threshold—a place where things could exist between worlds.
Slowly, carefully, Sam began to recite his lines.
The words came effortlessly, his voice steady despite the tension curling in his stomach.
And as he spoke—
The figure moved closer.
The shadows clung to it, but its form sharpened.
A hand, a sleeve, a flicker of dark eyes.
Sam's breath caught in his throat.
Elias was watching.
Hanging onto every word.
The realization sent a shiver down Sam's spine.
He didn't know how he knew, but he felt it—this was different.
This wasn't just a ghost watching from the sidelines.
This was something more.
Something that needed him to act.
The thought sent a pulse of cold through his veins.
But before he could react—
The theater collapsed into darkness.
---
Morning
Sam woke with a start.
His breath was ragged, his skin clammy with sweat. The room was still, the early morning light creeping through the curtains.
For a moment, he just lay there, heartbeat thudding in his ears.
That dream—
No.
That hadn't been just a dream.
His fingers curled against the blanket.
Something had happened last night.
Something that made his gut churn with unease.
"…Rehearsal," he muttered to himself, trying to push down the rising anxiety.
He needed to focus on that.
Because whatever Elias wanted—
It wasn't over.
The remnants of the dream still clung to Sam as he sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the ledger.
His fingers hovered over the cover, hesitant.
Elias had been an actor.
Or at least… someone who wanted to be.
It made sense, didn't it? Why else would he react so strongly to Sam's performances?
It wasn't just some random fascination. It wasn't about Sam personally.
It was about acting.
About watching someone do what he no longer could.
Sam exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples.
If Elias had once been an aspiring actor—then what had happened to him?
Why was he here?
And more importantly—
Why was he watching him so closely?
His gaze dropped back to the ledger.
"Tell me," Sam muttered, fingers tightening against the book's edges. "Am I right?"
The ink bled onto the page, forming letters in slow, deliberate strokes.
You are going in the right direction.
A chill curled around Sam's spine.
So it was true.
Some part of him had expected denial or maybe even silence. But this confirmation only made his stomach twist tighter.
He licked his lips. "Then what am I supposed to do next?"
The ledger didn't answer right away.
Seconds stretched on.
Then—
One sentence appeared.
Take me with you today.
Sam's breath hitched.
"…What?"
The ink didn't move again.
He stared at the words, his pulse picking up.
Take it with him?
To rehearsals?
His first instinct was to say no.
It was one thing dealing with this supernatural mess inside the guesthouse. But bringing it outside—to where people were? Where Ethan and Alex were?
What if someone saw something?
What if the pages moved on their own? What if words started appearing in real time while someone else was looking?
His mind spun with possibilities, none of them good.
But—
If the ledger was asking this much of him, then there had to be a reason.
His hands curled into fists.
This wasn't the first time he had gotten involved in things he didn't understand.
And it wasn't like ignoring the problem was going to make it go away.
With a sharp breath, Sam gritted his teeth and nodded to himself.
"…Fine."
He wasn't happy about it.
But if this would bring him closer to the truth, then he'd deal with it.
For now.
---
The morning light was still dim as Sam swung his bag over his shoulder.
His hand hesitated above the desk.
The ledger sat there, still and unmoving.
For a moment, Sam almost changed his mind.
Almost left it behind.
But the words on the page echoed in his mind.
Take me with you today.
With a frustrated sigh, he grabbed the book and shoved it deep into his bag.
"You better not make me regret this."
He zipped the bag shut and slung it on his back.
As he stepped toward the door—
A shadow moved.
It slithered across the floor, silent, unseen.
By the time Sam reached for the doorknob—
The ledger in his bag had changed.
The cover looked smoother. Slightly less aged. The rough edges that had made it look old and forgotten had softened—just enough to be noticeable if someone were looking closely.
Sam, however, didn't notice.
He stepped outside, locking the door behind him, completely unaware of the silent presence that had slipped into the book.
And as he walked toward rehearsals, the air behind him stirred—
Just barely.
Like something had followed.