Chapter 7: Hollow Eyes and Broken vows

The rain had started again.

It beat softly against the windows, a cold, rhythmic tap that filled the silence left between Matthew and Noah. The house groaned with old age, but beneath that, it listened. Like the walls were waiting for the truth to slip.

Noah sat on the edge of the bed, the salt sigils on his chest still faintly glowing.

Matthew stood at the window, one hand pressed to the pane, his silhouette carved out by the occasional flash of lightning.

"You didn't tell me his body was still here," Noah said finally.

Matthew didn't turn.

"I wasn't sure… until tonight."

"That's not good enough," Noah whispered. "I'm living in a walking grave, and you're still keeping secrets?"

Now Matthew turned. "You think this is easy for me? Watching your face his face speak in a voice I barely recognize? Do you know what that does to a man?"

Noah's voice dropped. "Tell me, then. Stop hiding it."

Matthew's shoulders tensed, but he crossed the room slowly and sat down across from him.

"When I met Caleb," he began, voice soft but sharp, "he was sunlight wrapped in silk. Charming. Brilliant. A little too cruel for his own good, but it made him addictive. Like wine laced with poison."

Noah watched him closely. "You loved him."

Matthew nodded. "Harder than I should have. I wasn't a priest then. I wasn't anything. Just a man obsessed with fixing broken things."

He paused, eyes drifting toward the flame in the lantern.

"But Caleb wasn't broken. He was rotten underneath."

"What happened?"

Matthew's voice dropped into something haunted. "He started the ritual six years ago. Said he wanted to cheat death. Said I could help him. That I could anchor him to this world."

"You agreed?"

"I was in love," Matthew snapped. "Love makes monsters out of good people. And I was never good to begin with."

Noah felt something twist in his chest. Not pity. Not judgment.

Recognition.

"You helped him bind his soul?"

Matthew nodded, looking sick. "He told me it was temporary. That it was just to buy time until he found the perfect host. I thought he meant a vessel something empty."

He looked up, eyes heavy with regret.

"I didn't know he meant a person."

Noah swallowed hard. "Me."

"Not just you," Matthew said quietly. "There were others. Three that I know of. All of them died within days. He devoured them."

Noah stared. "And now I'm next."

"You're the only one that's lasted this long," Matthew whispered. "Because you're not weak. And… because maybe a part of him doesn't want to kill you."

The silence that followed was heavy.

Noah stood and crossed to the window, turning his back to Matthew.

"You helped create a monster," he said.

"I know."

"You let him stay in this world."

"I know."

"You loved him so much you forgot to fear him."

Matthew's voice cracked. "I never forgot. I just… ignored it."

Another beat passed.

Then Noah whispered, "Why did you leave him, then?"

Matthew rose slowly. "Because I found him carving a sigil into the skin of a child."

Noah turned, horror flashing across his face.

"He said it was necessary," Matthew continued. "Said pain opens doors the living can't touch."

"And you still helped him?"

"I left after that," Matthew said. "Tried to burn the house down. But Caleb bound it. Anyone who tries to destroy it dies inside it."

Noah shook his head slowly. "This place is a tomb."

"No," Matthew said. "It's a womb. It's where he plans to be reborn."

That night, neither of them slept.

Noah wandered the halls alone while Matthew traced protective runes into the doors and windows.

In the old study, Noah found Caleb's journals.

He didn't mean to read them.

But one slipped open in his hands.

"Matthew still believes this is love. But what is love if not a contract sealed in need? He fears me, and that's how I know I've won."

Noah felt sick.

He turned the page.

"I've seen the void that comes after death. It is cold, and it is endless. I will never go back. I will make them all remember me, even if I have to wear their skin to do it."

"Noah Clarke. Yes. That one is different. He has something in him that resists. That intrigues me. Perhaps I'll wear him for a while."

The blood drained from Noah's face.

Caleb had known him.

Before the accident. Before the crash.

This wasn't random.

"Noah!"

He turned to find Matthew standing in the doorway, holding a freshly cracked mirror.

"Did you look into the glass just now?"

Noah blinked. "No."

Matthew's face twisted. "He did."

They both looked at the mirror.

This time, the reflection showed something new.

A coffin.

Open.

Filled with salt, bones… and a human heart still beating.

Caleb's voice whispered from the glass:

"You want to end me? Then come to me. Come to where I'm buried. Bring the priest. And bring your grief."

Then the mirror shattered again without being touched.

Later that night, Noah sat at the foot of the bed, shirtless again as Matthew reapplied salt lines across his spine.

Neither of them spoke at first.

But eventually, Matthew broke the silence.

"If you die… he wins. But if I kill him truly end him you'll be free."

Noah turned slightly. "So why do you sound like you're mourning him?"

"Because part of me still sees the boy I kissed in the church graveyard, the boy who said I was his anchor to life."

"Do you still love him?"

Matthew looked up, pain raw in his eyes.

"I'm trying not to love you."

Noah's heart stuttered.

They were inches apart.

And in the mirror behind them… Caleb watched.

Smiling.