The sun rose slowly in the morning. Aria's tired eyes late at night were quite evident as she was standing on the balcony with a loose robe tied loosely around her waist. That very voice which she heard, the one that belonged to the phone did not leave her mind.
Elias Monroe.
He was not a myth.
He was not a ghost.
He lived.
And he was watching.
The door creaked open. Jerry entered, holding two mugs.
"Didn't sleep?" he whispered.
She reached for the mug, nodding. "He called me."
Jerry stopped mid-sip. "Elias?"
She nodded. "Distorted voice. But I know it was him."
He exhaled. "What did he say?"
"He wants me to give up digging. Told this could be irreversible."
Jerry moved to the balcony railing. "A warning. A threat. Or both."
Aria sipped her coffee deliberately. "He's on edge.
