Chapter 10: Whispers in the Dark

The ruined mansion seemed even colder that night, as if the walls themselves had drawn in to listen. Evelyn stood at the center of the room, her ghostly form still and thoughtful. The revelation of Laurence’s name had opened a door in her mind—but beyond that door lay only shadows.

Azrael leaned against the windowsill, watching her with calculating eyes. “You remember his name. That’s something.”

Evelyn nodded. “But it’s not enough.” Her voice wavered. “I need to know why he killed me.”

Azrael sighed. “And more importantly, what it has to do with the Stone of Immortality.”

The mention of the Stone sent a chill through Evelyn, though she wasn’t sure why. She had heard that name before. It felt like a half-forgotten dream, lingering at the edges of her thoughts.

“Where do we look next?” she asked.

Azrael glanced down at the locket in his hand. “Laurence was wealthy. Aristocratic. A man like him wouldn’t have simply vanished.” He met her eyes. “We need to find out what happened to him after your death.”

Evelyn hesitated. “And how do we do that?”

Azrael smirked. “By visiting someone who might remember.”

A gust of wind swept through the room, flickering the candlelight. Evelyn shivered, even though she could no longer feel the cold.

“Someone like who?” she asked warily.

Azrael’s smirk widened. “A collector of secrets. A being who deals in knowledge.” He pushed away from the window. “We’re paying a visit to the Archivist.Evelyn frowned. “The Archivist?” The name sent an uneasy ripple through her, though she couldn’t say why.

Azrael twirled the locket between his fingers. “An old being. Not quite mortal, not quite spirit. He remembers things others have long forgotten. If anyone knows what became of Laurence after your death, it’s him.”

Evelyn hesitated. “And you trust him?”

Azrael let out a short, humorless laugh. “Not in the slightest.”

A heavy silence settled between them. The wind rattled the broken shutters, whispering through the abandoned mansion like a chorus of unseen voices. Evelyn glanced toward the doorway, feeling something shift in the air—a presence, watching.

“We’re not alone,” she murmured.

Azrael’s gaze flicked toward the darkness beyond the threshold. He wasn’t surprised. The house was full of ghosts, but not all of them were as willing to be seen as Evelyn.

“Then let’s not waste any more time,” he said.

Evelyn gave one last look at the ruined bedroom before nodding. If the Archivist held the key to her past, she would face whatever shadows lay ahead.

Even if they whispered things she wasn’t ready to hear.

Evelyn lingered for a moment, her gaze fixed on the locket in Azrael’s hand. The man in the portrait—Laurence—felt closer now, as if speaking his name had stirred something awake. She wondered if he, too, was out there somewhere, watching.

Azrael tucked the locket into his coat. “Let’s go.”

As they stepped into the corridor, the air grew colder. The mansion groaned, its old bones shifting. Evelyn could feel the weight of unseen eyes pressing against her.

A whisper brushed past her ear. **"You shouldn’t have remembered."**

She spun around, but the hall was empty.

Azrael smirked. “Second thoughts?”

Evelyn clenched her fists. “Never.”

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