Chapter 2: Whispers of the Forgotten

The cold air inside the mansion wrapped around Azrael like an unwelcome embrace. Time had long abandoned this place—dust coated every surface, and the scent of damp wood and decay clung to the air. Yet, beneath the ruin, something pulsed. An energy. A secret. He could feel it, just as he could feel the presence of the ghost who stood before him.

Evelyn.

She watched him carefully, her ethereal form shifting with the flickering candlelight. Though she did not breathe, he could sense something restless inside her, like a soul yearning for escape.

“You said you don’t remember how you died,” Azrael said, his voice smooth but probing. “But you remember this place.”

Evelyn nodded, her fingers brushing against the peeling wallpaper. “I feel... trapped here. Like my existence is bound to these walls.” She hesitated, her brows furrowing. “There are moments when I almost remember something. A voice. A name. But then it fades, like smoke slipping through my fingers.”

Azrael’s gaze swept over the grand hall they stood in. The rotting remains of a chandelier dangled above, crystals missing, its former brilliance lost to time. A grand staircase curved upward, its railings broken in places. The house was dead. And yet, it still held secrets.

“Something is keeping you here,” Azrael murmured. “A tether.”

Evelyn met his gaze. “Can you sever it?”

Azrael smirked. “That depends. Do you wish to be free?”

A flicker of hesitation crossed her face. “I don’t know.”

He studied her for a long moment. She was unlike any spirit he had encountered before. Most ghosts longed for release, for the peace that came with crossing over. But Evelyn… something held her back.

Azrael moved toward the grand staircase, his fingers trailing along the banister as he ascended. Dust stirred beneath his steps. Evelyn floated beside him, silent, watching.

“If you truly wish to know why you remain,” he said, “we must find the thing that binds you. A memory. An object. A truth long buried.”

Evelyn’s expression darkened. “And if I do not wish to remember?”

Azrael stopped at the top of the stairs, turning to her. His ember-like eyes gleamed. “Then you will remain in this prison. Forever.”

Her lips parted slightly, as if to protest, but no words came. She knew he was right.

They moved through the long, decaying hallway. Doors lined the walls, their wood warped with time. Some hung open, revealing empty rooms filled with shadows. Others remained shut, their secrets locked away.

Evelyn slowed before a particular door at the end of the hall. Her form flickered.

“This room…” she whispered.

Azrael pushed the door open.

Inside, the air was heavier, thick with something unseen. The remnants of a bedroom lay in ruins—furniture broken, a once-elegant vanity shattered, its mirror fractured into jagged pieces. Moonlight seeped through a large window, illuminating the dust that swirled in the air.

Evelyn drifted forward, her fingers ghosting over the remnants of a dresser. Her expression was distant, troubled.

“Do you remember this place?” Azrael asked.

She nodded slowly. “I think… this was my room.”

Something in the air shifted. A whisper. A faint echo of the past. Azrael’s eyes narrowed. The presence of old magic lingered here.

Evelyn turned toward the bed—or what remained of it. The canopy frame was splintered, the mattress torn open. And there, in the center of the decayed sheets, was a single, faded stain.

Blood.

Evelyn’s form flickered violently. She gasped, clutching her chest as if she could feel a wound reopening.

Azrael stepped closer. “You died here,” he said, voice low. “And you were not alone.”

Evelyn’s eyes widened in terror. “I—” Her voice wavered. “I remember pain. A sharp, burning pain.” Her hands trembled. “And then… darkness.”

Azrael’s jaw tightened. Someone had killed her. And the remnants of that act still lingered, holding her soul captive.

A sudden gust of wind swept through the room, and the shattered mirror rattled. Azrael turned sharply. Something was awakening.

Evelyn’s breath hitched. “There’s something here.”

Azrael’s fingers twitched. His power, though restrained in this human form, still stirred beneath his skin. He could feel it—a presence lurking, hidden in the shadows of this place.

Then, a whisper slithered through the air.

“You should not have come back.”

Evelyn gasped, her form flickering violently. Azrael’s eyes darkened.

They were not alone.

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