Chapter 3: The Thing Beneath Emberlake

It took me a solid five seconds to process what Selene had just said.

"I think it wants you."

Me. Not her. Not the town. Me.

“What do you mean it wants me?” I asked, trying (and failing) to keep the panic out of my voice.

Selene’s eyes were distant now, like she was somewhere far away. “It’s been... watching. Since the fire.”

I stiffened. “What fire?”

She gave me a sideways glance. “The one that killed your dad.”

I stepped back like she’d slapped me. “How do you know about that?”

“I did my research before moving here.” She paused, her voice gentler. “And because I saw the mark.”

“What mark?”

She reached forward—slowly, like I was a wild animal she didn’t want to spook—and brushed her fingers over the side of my neck. I flinched, then froze.

Her hand was cold, but not in a dead way. More like... moonlight.

“You were marked by something that night,” she whispered. “It’s subtle. But it’s there. Something passed through the veil during that fire. Something ancient.”

I felt a chill crawl up my spine. My dad died in a house fire three years ago. I was the only one who made it out. The cause was “unknown electrical failure,” but even then… something never felt right.

“You think some... thing came through the fire and attached itself to me?” I asked.

She nodded once. “And now it’s waking up.”

I shook my head. “This is insane.”

Selene gave a sad smile. “Yeah. Welcome to my world.”

Before I could say anything else, the air around us shifted. It was like pressure pressing against my skin—thick and heavy, like the sky had fallen a little closer to Earth.

Selene’s eyes snapped to the trees. “It followed us.”

Something moved between the trunks.

Not walked. Glided.

Shadow-like. Tall. Thin. No face. Just glowing eyes—white and endless.

My body refused to move.

Selene threw her arm out in front of me and muttered a word I didn’t understand. The circle of symbols carved into the trees flared blue again—and the thing screeched. It was high-pitched, metallic, and angry.

It slammed into the invisible barrier and shrieked louder. The ground shook. My ears rang.

But the ward held.

Barely.

Selene turned to me. “We don’t have much time. You’re part of this now.”

I looked at the thing outside the circle.

And then back at her.

“I was never not part of it,” I said quietly.

She smiled—and this time, it was real. Not a smirk. Not a warning. Just… her.

And then she whispered something I barely caught as the creature melted back into the trees:

“You’re stronger than you know.”

*Chapter 4: The Witch's Granddaughter *

After that night, nothing felt real anymore.

Not the clatter of lockers the next morning. Not the smell of burned coffee in the cafeteria. Not even Ivy’s voice rambling about cheer practice and the Spring Formal.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the thing in the woods.

Or the way Selene looked at me when she said you’re part of this now.

She didn’t come to school the next day. Or the day after.

By the third day, I cracked.

I biked through the storm up the hill to Ashcroft Manor.

Everyone in town said the place was cursed. That no one lasted more than a year inside its rotting halls. But when I reached the iron gates, they creaked open before I even touched them.

Like something wanted me there.

The house loomed, gothic and beautiful in its decay. Ivy-covered walls. Towering windows. Shadows flickering behind glass that shouldn’t have had light.

I knocked.

No answer.

Then I heard her voice—soft, urgent—somewhere inside. “Downstairs!”

I followed the sound into a narrow hallway, then down a spiral staircase that groaned with every step. The air grew colder. Heavier.

I found her in a stone basement filled with candles and books older than time.

Selene stood at the center of a chalk-drawn circle, surrounded by pages covered in runes and blood-red ink. She looked up as I entered, and her shoulders dropped. “You shouldn’t have come.”

I crossed my arms. “You really need to stop saying that.”

She gave me a ghost of a smile. “Stubborn.”

“You’re one to talk. What is all this?”

She gestured to the runes. “A tracing spell. I’m trying to locate the Rift. The place where the veil between this world and the next is thinnest.”

“Let me guess,” I said. “It’s here. Emberlake.”

She looked at me. “No. It’s you.”

I blinked. “What?”

“You’re the Rift,” she said softly. “Or at least… part of one.”

Then, finally, she told me everything.

How her grandmother—Cecilia Knight—was once the High Witch of Emberlake, protector of the veil.

How a warlock betrayed their coven fifteen years ago, trying to break the boundary between life and death to bring someone back.

How the ritual went wrong… and something ancient slipped through.

How it marked a newborn boy in the hospital that night.

Me.

“I tried to stay away,” she whispered. “But the moment I saw you in class, I knew.”

“Knew what?”

“That you were the one the veil wants. The one it’s trying to claim.”

My pulse pounded. “So what now?”

She hesitated, then reached into her coat and pulled out a silver chain with a black crystal at its center. “Now,” she said, “you wear this. It’ll slow the pull. Keep the thing inside you dormant.”

I stared at the pendant.

“Until when?” I asked.

“Until we find a way to seal the Rift for good.”

I took it. The crystal was ice-cold.

Our fingers touched for a moment—and I felt it.

Not just a spark. Something deeper. Familiar. Like we’d done this before, in another life.

“You’re not alone,” she said, voice barely a breath.

Outside, thunder cracked. The candles flickered. And somewhere deep below Emberlake… something stirred.

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