The ruined mansion groaned against the wind, its skeletal remains whispering secrets of the past. Dust hung thick in the air as Azrael and Evelyn stood in the hollow remains of the bedroom, the locket still clutched in Azrael’s hand.
“The ballroom,” Evelyn murmured. “That’s where we need to go.”
Azrael tilted his head. “You sound certain.”
“I have to be.” Her translucent fingers twitched. “If I hesitate, I’ll never face the truth.”
Azrael smirked. “Then lead the way, ghost.”
Evelyn turned, drifting through the shattered doorway. The house twisted around them, hallways stretching into shadows, their path shifting like a living maze. But Evelyn knew where to go. Even if she couldn’t remember everything, her soul recognized the way.
She led Azrael down a grand staircase, the once-opulent railing now warped and decayed. The scent of mold and rot clung to the air, but beneath it, something lingered—faint, like a long-faded perfume.
They reached a pair of massive double doors at the base of the staircase. Their once-polished wood was now cracked, warped by time. Evelyn hesitated, her ghostly form wavering.
Azrael stepped beside her, pushing the doors open with ease.
The ballroom stretched before them, a hollow shell of its former glory. The grand chandeliers had collapsed, their crystals shattered across the marble floor. Torn curtains billowed in the wind that slithered through the broken windows. The air was thick—heavy with something unseen, something waiting.
Evelyn’s breath hitched as she stepped inside. The memory of music, laughter, and candlelight flickered through her mind like a half-forgotten dream.
“This is it,” she whispered.
Azrael strode forward, his eyes scanning the ruins. “And where, exactly, did you die?”
Evelyn swallowed. Her feet carried her toward the center of the room, her mind swimming with fragmented images. A dance. A whisper. A sharp, sudden pain.
She stopped. “Here.”
Azrael watched as she knelt, her fingers skimming the cold marble. Though she couldn’t touch the world, something in the air responded. A pulse, a ripple of energy.
Then—a voice.
“You should have listened, Evelyn.”
She gasped, jerking backward as the air shifted. A shadow flickered at the edges of the room, swirling like smoke.
Azrael’s posture remained relaxed, but his fingers twitched at his sides. “Well. That didn’t take long.”
The darkness thickened, stretching toward them. It curled into the shape of a man—tall, imposing, draped in something that might have once been elegant. His face was blurred, but his presence was unmistakable.
Evelyn’s voice trembled. “Laurence.”
The shadow laughed, a dry, brittle sound. “You came back to me.”
Azrael sighed. “Of course, it’s the obsessive type.”
Evelyn stood, lifting her chin. “You murdered me.”
The specter tilted his head. “Did I?” His voice was sickly sweet. “Or did you simply refuse to obey?”
Something inside Evelyn snapped. Fear no longer controlled her. “You stole my life!”
Laurence’s form flickered, his voice growing sharp. “I gave you everything. And you threw it away.”
Azrael stepped forward, his smirk vanishing. “You’re quite chatty for a dead man.” His eyes gleamed, his presence pressing against the room. “Tell me, Laurence—where is the Stone of Immortality?”
The shadow’s attention shifted. “Ah. The devil seeks power.” Laurence chuckled. “How fitting.”
Azrael’s smirk returned, sharp as a blade. “Answer the question.”
The room trembled. Laurence’s form darkened, the air turning suffocating. “I was promised eternity,” he hissed. “But she stole it from me.”
Evelyn froze. “What?”
Laurence’s hollow eyes bore into her. “You don’t remember, do you? You were the key. You had the power.” His voice dripped with fury. “And I died because of you.”
Evelyn staggered. “No… that can’t be true.”
Azrael’s gaze flickered toward her. “Interesting.”
Laurence’s shadow loomed closer. “You are bound to this place because of your betrayal.” His voice curled around her like chains. “But you can still make it right.”
Evelyn’s voice was barely a whisper. “How?”
The specter’s grin was nothing but darkness. “Give yourself to me.”
The air snapped like a dying flame. Silence hung heavy between them.
Azrael’s voice cut through it like a knife.
“No.”
Laurence turned, amused. “And why not, devil? What is she to you?”
Azrael’s expression was unreadable. “She’s mine.”
The room shuddered. Evelyn’s breath caught as Laurence laughed.
“So be it,” he whispered.
Then, the shadows lunged.
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