Ashes of the Soul Keeper

Chapter 5

The Forgotten Ones.

“They never left. They’re still here.”

The handle was cold beneath Evelyn’s fingertips, tarnished brass slick with condensation. Ethan stood behind her, his flashlight casting long, twitching shadows along the cracked walls of the estate. The broken mirror lay in jagged pieces at their feet, reflecting their fractured faces.

“You sure about this?” Ethan asked, voice low.

Evelyn didn’t answer. She turned the handle. It creaked, a rusted, ancient sound that echoed through the hollow house.

The hidden door swung open.

A narrow staircase spiraled downward into darkness, its wooden steps warped and slick with moisture. The air that rushed out smelled of damp stone, old wood, and something older… something decayed.

Ethan clicked his flashlight beam downward. “This wasn’t in the estate blueprints.”

“No,” Evelyn murmured, swallowing hard. “This was meant to be forgotten.”

They descended together, each creak beneath their boots sharp in the heavy silence. The air thickened as they moved deeper underground, damp, cold, almost suffocating. On the walls, faded photographs lined the stone, their edges curled with age.

Evelyn paused, the beam of her light landing on the first image. A black-and-white photograph of a group of children, smiling, posed in front of what looked like the Hale Estate. Her breath caught as she recognized one of the faces: Caleb Vance. He looked younger here, his wide eyes bright and innocent.

Another step forward, another photo. This time, Vivienne stood between the children, her hand resting on Caleb’s shoulder.

But it was the next picture that sent cold fingers down Evelyn’s spine.

It was her.

A much younger Evelyn, no older than six, her small hand clasped tightly in Caleb’s. Both children beamed at the camera, unaware of the shadows lurking behind them.

Ethan sucked in a sharp breath. “You… you knew him.”

“I don’t remember this,” Evelyn whispered, but her fingers trembled against the photograph’s dusty frame.

Somewhere deeper in the tunnel, a faint scraping echoed, slow, deliberate, like fingernails against stone.

They weren’t alone.

The tunnel led to a chamber, small, circular, the stone walls slick with condensation. The temperature dropped with every step Evelyn took, each exhale clouding in the frigid air. At the center of the room, candles, long since snuffed out, stood in a circle around a crude sigil etched into the stone floor. The same twisted mark found near the burned bodies.

Ethan crouched low, his gloved hand brushing the sigil’s cold surface. “This wasn’t just for show. This was a ritual.”

Evelyn didn’t respond. Her head tilted slightly, her breath shallow. A faint sound curled through the chamber, soft, delicate.

A child’s sob.

It echoed, bouncing off the damp walls, growing louder, fractured by pain.

Evelyn’s chest tightened. “Caleb?”

The temperature dropped again, the candle wicks flickering back to life with a hiss, each flame burning blue.

Then he appeared.

Caleb Vance’s spirit materialized near the sigil’s edge, his translucent form wreathed in smoke. But this wasn’t the terrified boy from her dreams. This Caleb was older, his face twisted with anguish and rage, hollow eyes burning with something deeper than sorrow.

“You let him live,” Caleb hissed, his voice a brittle shard of glass.

Evelyn stepped forward, shaking her head. “I don’t know what you mean! I was a child….I didn’t….”

“You were there!” he snarled, his form flaring with sudden light before dimming again. “You saw. You forgot.”

The air thickened. Ethan moved closer to Evelyn, his hand hovering near his sidearm, though it was useless against the dead.

Caleb’s ghost flickered, agony etching deep into his translucent features. “He never left. And now he’s coming for you.”

Before Evelyn could speak, Caleb’s spirit fractured, shattered like glass, and his final, hollow scream echoed through the chamber.

The flames died.

The darkness returned.

And Evelyn finally understood, this wasn’t just about Caleb. It never had been.

The cold air bit at Evelyn’s skin as she and Ethan emerged from the underground chamber, their footsteps crunching over dead leaves scattered across the estate grounds. The silence was thick, broken only by the low creak of the estate’s rusted weather vane spinning in the wind.

Evelyn clutched a bundle of fragile papers she had pulled from the hidden room, half-burned records, sealed town meeting minutes, and photos of the children who had vanished. The evidence was undeniable. The fire wasn’t an accident.

With his jaw clinched so tightly that the muscles clicked, Ethan walked the perimeter of the property while running his hand through his hair. As he looked through the papers, he said, "Jasper Thorne was on the town council back then." "After the fire, he was among the first people on the scene." 

Evelyn’s heart pounded. “And now he’s head of the planning commission. He’s been involved in Black Hollow’s politics for decades.”

Ethan dropped the papers onto the hood of his truck, the metal still warm under the afternoon sun. “Look at this.” He jabbed a finger at a report, its edges charred but the words still legible. “‘All evidence inconclusive. Investigation closed at the council’s request.’ That was filed days after the fire.”

“They buried it,” Evelyn whispered, a knot tightening in her chest.

“They didn’t just bury it, they made sure no one could dig it up again.” Ethan’s gaze darkened. “This wasn’t just negligence. Someone covered this up. And they let whoever caused that fire walk free.”

Evelyn looked back toward the estate, its blackened windows like hollow eyes. The air around her felt heavier, as if the spirits themselves pressed against her, desperate for release. “The spirits want justice. And they’re not going to stop until they get it.”

Thunder rumbled low in the distance.

“We’re running out of time,” Ethan muttered, snatching the papers.

As they turned to leave, Evelyn could swear she heard faint whispers in the wind, voices, tangled and urgent, begging to be heard.

The estate loomed ahead, its charred walls silhouetted against the bruised sky as dusk settled in. Evelyn’s pulse thumped as they approached the front door, until she noticed something out of place.

A single sheet of paper fluttered on the wooden doorframe, pinned there with a rusty nail.

“Wait,” Ethan said, grabbing her wrist.

But Evelyn yanked free and pulled the paper down. It was thick, yellowed, the handwriting jagged and slanted.

“You’re in too deep. Leave before you burn too.”

Ethan cursed under his breath. “That’s not some kid pulling pranks.”

Evelyn’s hand trembled slightly as she passed the note to him. “This was meant for me.”

Ethan’s gaze narrowed as he traced the letters with his thumb. “I’ve seen this handwriting before.”

Evelyn stiffened. “Where?”

He didn’t answer at first, but she could see the gears turning behind his dark eyes. Finally, he muttered, “The original fire investigation files. This matches the notes left by the supposed arsonist, the one who was never caught.”

Her blood ran cold.

"You're telling me that the fire starter is still alive?"

Ethan said, "Or someone who wants you to believe they are." "In any case, it indicates that they are observing us." 

Evelyn turned slowly, scanning the darkening tree line that hugged the estate. Every rustle of leaves felt closer, heavier.

“Ethan,” she whispered, “what if this isn’t just about the fire?”

He met her gaze, the weight of the moment sinking between them. “It never was.”

A shadow shifted beyond the trees, quick, sharp.

Ethan shoved the letter into his jacket. “We need to go. Now.”

But Evelyn couldn’t shake the feeling that someone, or something, was still watching… waiting.

The room pulsed with a heavy, suffocating heat. Evelyn’s breath caught in her throat as the walls around her warped, flickering between the present and a blazing inferno. Her vision blurred, and then, she was no longer in the safety of the estate.

Flames crackled, licking the wooden beams overhead, smoke thickening the air. Evelyn stood in the middle of what once was the estate’s grand hall, now engulfed in fire. Her heart raced in time with the chaos surrounding her, screams echoed, raw and panicked, piercing the smoke.

She turned toward the sound and saw them, children. Small, shadowed figures huddled against the walls, their faces pale with terror, their cries lost in the roar of the fire. One by one, they were dragged into the flames by a looming figure, tall, broad-shouldered, its face hidden behind a grotesque mask. It moved with haunting precision, its hand reaching for another child.

“No!” Evelyn screamed, her voice thin against the fire’s roar. She surged forward, but her legs felt sluggish, like wading through water. Every step brought her closer to the masked figure, but the flames licked at her heels, growing hotter, hungrier.

The masked figure hesitated.

It turned.

Evelyn’s heart slammed against her ribs.

The mask, porcelain white, cracked down the middle, its hollow eyes locking onto hers. It tilted its head, slowly, as if recognizing her. The air thickened. She felt the heat prickling her skin, sweat beading on her forehead, but it wasn’t the fire that made her shiver.

The figure raised a hand and pointed directly at her.

“Run,” it whispered, though its lips never moved.

Before Evelyn could react, the world exploded in light, flames swallowing the masked figure, the children, and the room in a blinding surge.

She shot upright in her bed, gasping, the smell of smoke still heavy in the air.

The room was cold.

Too cold.

Her chest heaved as she clutched the sheets, her heart racing. The mirror across from her bed was fogged over, its glass shimmering as if it still held the heat from her vision. Then, slowly, a single word appeared on the glass, written by an unseen hand:

“Closer.”

Evelyn’s blood ran cold.

But she couldn’t stop now.

The truth, whatever it was….was clawing its way to the surface.