Chapter Twenty-Two
The Veilwell Cavern
The entrance was almost invisible—hidden behind a curtain of moss and twisting roots that pulsed faintly, like veins filled with silver light. Edward stood at the edge, lantern in hand, but the flame sputtered the closer it came to the cavern's breath.
Kaia crouched, blade drawn. "It smells like rot and memory."
Rowan stepped forward beside Amelia, squeezing her hand. "This is it."
They entered.
The walls were slick with moisture, glowing faintly blue, as though the cave itself remembered light but had long since forgotten warmth. Every step echoed back to them, but wrong—distorted, like their footsteps belonged to someone else walking just behind.
Amelia's breath came in shallow drags. "Why does it feel like we're being watched?"
Edward's voice was grim. "Because we are."
The deeper they went, the colder it became. Not the chill of air—but of presence. Like something ancient had taken root in the stone and was only now stirring.
They passed a tunnel filled with hanging crystals, each one reflecting Amelia's face—but not her exactly. Some were older, eyes hollow. Some smiled too widely. One had black water dripping from her mouth.
Amelia yanked her gaze away.
"I saw them too," Rowan whispered beside her. "Don't look too long."
Suddenly, a whisper slithered down the wall.
Turn back, turn back, she's already gone, already gone—
Kaia flinched. "Did you hear that?"
Amelia swallowed. "Yeah. That wasn't just in my head."
Then, ahead, a faint light flickered. Gold and green. Moving like fireflies underwater.
They followed it, deeper, until the air thinned and the path opened into a vast underground chamber.
And there, standing in the center of a pool of still, black water, was Lucien.
His coat was gone. His eyes glowed silver. And behind him, hovering above the water, was Elvira—Amelia's mother—trapped in a shimmer of liquid glass.
"Welcome," Lucien said, his voice echoing not through the air but inside their bones. "You came faster than I expected."
Amelia stepped forward, hands trembling. "Let her go."
Lucien smiled. "Oh, but she's the key. The anchor. I had to draw her out of the lake's memory to tether you."
The water at his feet began to churn, and suddenly, tendrils of it rose into the air like serpents—slithering toward Amelia.
"You carry the lake inside you now," Lucien said. "You've seen its truth. You've heard its voice. But you've only just begun to listen."
Rowan drew his blade. "Back away from her."
Lucien's head tilted. "Ah, the boy. So full of fire. You think love will save her?"
Then he raised a hand, and Rowan was flung back into the wall by an invisible force. He hit hard and groaned, dazed.
"Rowan!" Amelia shouted, but the tendrils of water coiled around her legs.
Lucien approached slowly, water moving with him like shadow.
"You don't understand, Amelia. I'm not your enemy. I'm your future."
Amelia's eyes burned. "I'd rather drown in the truth than live in your lies."
And with a scream, the light in her chest burst forth—not silver, but blinding blue.
The cavern shuddered.
The water recoiled.
And Elvira's eyes opened—just for a second.
She whispered, "Run."
Amelia didn't run.
She couldn't.
The blue light bursting from her chest cast eerie reflections on the cavern walls—shapes that moved when she wasn't looking. One twisted into a woman screaming silently. Another looked like a version of her father—eyes gouged out, mouth sewn shut. Then it disappeared into the stone like it had never been.
"Still you resist," Lucien hissed. "Still you cling to the illusion of control."
The tendrils of water crawled higher, slick and cold, tightening around Amelia's waist like icy arms.
But the worst part wasn't the pain—it was the whispers.
They came from the water, the walls, the ceiling.
"She lied to you."
"He's already gone."
"Your reflection is rotting."
"Breathe us in... become the lake..."
Her knees buckled as her mind split into echoes. For a moment, she wasn't in the cavern anymore.
She was in her bathtub.
Alone.
Bleeding.
But when she looked down, her hands weren't hers—they were soaked, dripping black liquid.
She screamed.
"Elvira, wake up!" Edward shouted, trying to reach his wife's floating form, but the water knocked him back like a living wall.
Rowan, weak but rising, dragged himself toward Amelia. "Stay with me! Amelia, look at me!"
She tried.
But the cavern shifted again.
She was standing before a mirror now—just her and her reflection.
But the reflection didn't match.
It grinned.
Its eyes were pure black.
Its mouth moved, but it wasn't her voice.
"You are not Amelia.
You are what's left of her.
A memory trapped in water."
"No..." she whispered, tears spilling.
The reflection laughed—and shattered.
She gasped as she was yanked back to the real cavern, collapsing to her knees as the water trembled around her.
Lucien smiled, arms wide, eyes wild. "You see it now, don't you? The truth beneath the surface. You were never meant to be whole. You were born to drown."
"No," Amelia choked out. "I was born to break the curse."
Suddenly, from the floating prism of water where Elvira lay, a single drop of glowing liquid fell—and struck the pool below.
The sound it made was deafening.
Like a scream. Like a bell. Like the world waking up.
All the water in the cavern surged upward. Screams echoed from the stone itself.
Ghostly figures burst from the walls—women, children, echoes of the drowned, their faces twisted in eternal agony. They reached for Lucien, their whispers now sobs.
"You did this to us..."
"We remember..."
"We never left..."
Lucien's smile faltered. "No—no! You're bound! I bound you!"
But the spirits clawed at him, pulling, dragging him toward the depths of the black pool. The water hissed and howled.
Rowan ran to Amelia, shielding her as the wind of death rushed through the chamber.
"Come on," he breathed. "You're not one of them. You're not his."
She clung to him, shaking, but alive.
Then, for the first time, Elvira's voice cut through the storm—soft, distant, but unmistakable.
"Amelia. End it."
Amelia rose. Her eyes—once soft blue—were glowing like lightning trapped under ice.
She raised her hands.
And the water obeyed.