CHAPTER FOUR: THE GRAVE WITH FRESH FLOWERS
1180 Words
She had barely slept.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Elara standing in the rain-soaked forest.
Find me.
Find the truth.
The words lingered in her mind long after dawn.
Unable to ignore the feeling any longer, she grabbed the flower and headed downstairs.
Mrs. Venn was setting plates on the dining table.
The older woman froze the moment she saw the lily.
"You shouldn't have that."
Amara frowned.
"You know what it means."
Mrs. Venn avoided her eyes.
Before she could answer, the front door opened.
Kael entered.
Behind him was another man.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Sharp-eyed.
Unlike Kael, whose presence felt like a storm waiting to happen, this man felt like a blade.
Controlled.
Dangerous.
His gaze landed on Amara immediately.
Then narrowed.
"So that's her."
Amara raised an eyebrow.
"That's rude."
The stranger ignored her.
Kael sighed.
"Amara, this is Rowan."
"The Beta," Rowan added.
Amara blinked.
"The what?"
Rowan looked at Kael.
"You haven't told her anything?"
"Not enough."
"Clearly."
Amara folded her arms.
"Can someone please explain why everyone in this town talks like they're in a secret society?"
For the first time, Rowan smirked.
"I like her."
"You literally insulted me two seconds ago."
"Exactly."
Kael pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Not helping."
Rowan's amusement vanished quickly.
His eyes settled on the lily in Amara's hand.
The moment he saw it, every trace of humor disappeared.
"Where did you get that?"
"Outside my window."
Silence.
Rowan and Kael exchanged a look.
One Amara didn't like.
Because it carried fear.
Real fear.
Kael stepped forward.
"We're going somewhere."
---
An hour later, they stood before Hollowmere Cemetery.
The iron gates groaned as they opened.
Fog drifted between ancient gravestones.
Everything about the place felt wrong.
Like the ground itself was hiding secrets.
As they walked deeper, another voice called out.
"Kael!"
A young woman hurried toward them carrying several books.
She had bright eyes and dark curls.
Unlike everyone else in Hollowmere, she actually looked happy.
"Lyra," Kael said.
The woman smiled.
Then she noticed Amara.
And nearly dropped her books.
"Oh."
Her face turned pale.
"Oh my God."
Amara sighed.
"Let me guess. I look like someone."
Lyra stared.
Then nodded slowly.
"You look exactly like her."
"Everyone keeps saying that."
Lyra swallowed.
"This is worse than the stories."
"What stories?"
But Lyra suddenly looked uncomfortable.
"I should go."
"Lyra."
Kael's warning tone stopped her.
The librarian hesitated.
Then looked at Amara.
"If you find old records in this town, don't trust all of them."
Amara frowned.
"What does that mean?"
Lyra glanced toward the church in the distance.
"Some pages were removed for a reason."
Then she hurried away.
Leaving even more questions behind.
---
Eventually they reached the grave.
The moment Amara saw it, her chest tightened.
ELARA VALE.
The name seemed heavier in person.
Fresh white lilies rested against the headstone.
Their petals glistened with dew.
Kael placed them there.
She knew it instantly.
The tenderness in the arrangement gave him away.
"You still visit her."
Kael stared at the grave.
"Every week."
The answer was quiet.
Painfully honest.
Something strange twisted inside Amara.
An emotion she didn't want to name.
Because she had no right to feel it.
Yet she couldn't ignore it.
The devotion in his voice hurt more than it should.
Before she could dwell on it, Rowan crouched near the grave.
His expression darkened.
"Someone's been here."
Amara followed his gaze.
The soil looked disturbed.
Freshly disturbed.
As though someone had dug into it recently.
A chill ran through her.
Kael noticed it too.
Then Rowan spotted something half-buried beneath the dirt.
A folded piece of paper.
Carefully, he pulled it free.
The paper looked ancient.
Yellowed with age.
He unfolded it.
Everyone gathered around.
A single sentence was written across the page.
SHE REMEMBERED FIRST.
Silence.
Amara felt her pulse quicken.
"What does that mean?"
No one answered.
Because nobody knew.
Then Rowan turned the paper over.
His face immediately lost color.
"What?"
Kael asked.
Rowan slowly handed him the note.
Kael read it.
And went completely still.
Amara grabbed it from his hand.
The second message was shorter.
More terrifying.
SHE WAS NEVER BURIED HERE.
The cemetery suddenly felt colder.
Much colder.
Amara stared at the grave.
If Elara wasn't buried there...
Then who was?
---
The church bell rang suddenly.
The sound echoed across Hollowmere.
Deep.
Ancient.
Warning-like.
Kael's expression hardened.
"We're leaving."
But before they could move, a voice spoke behind them.
"Interesting discovery."
Everyone turned.
A man stood at the cemetery entrance.
Dressed in black.
Silver hair.
Calm eyes.
A gentle smile.
Father Alden.
The town priest.
He approached slowly.
His gaze lingered on Amara.
Longer than necessary.
Something about it made her uncomfortable.
"I see you've found Elara's resting place."
"Supposedly resting place," Rowan muttered.
Father Alden's smile flickered briefly.
Then returned.
"Some truths are better left buried."
The statement hung in the air.
Heavy.
Unpleasant.
Amara noticed Kael watching the priest carefully.
Like he didn't entirely trust him.
That alone was interesting.
Because everyone else in town seemed to respect Father Alden.
The priest looked at Amara again.
"If I were you, I'd stop digging."
Amara raised an eyebrow.
"And if I don't?"
His smile widened slightly.
"Then be careful what answers you find."
For a brief second, his eyes looked almost... worried.
Then he turned and walked away.
The church bell rang again.
And Amara couldn't shake the feeling that the warning had been meant for her.
---
That night, Hollowmere slept.
But not everyone slept peacefully.
Far beneath the town, hidden beneath layers of stone and forgotten tunnels, a candle flickered.
A man sat alone in darkness.
His face remained concealed.
Only his hands were visible.
Long fingers resting on an old photograph.
Elara Vale.
He traced her face carefully.
Almost lovingly.
Almost obsessively.
Footsteps approached.
Another figure emerged from the shadows.
"The grave was disturbed."
The seated man remained silent.
"The girl found the note."
Still silence.
"And the Alpha was with her."
A low chuckle escaped the darkness.
The sound was wrong.
Too pleased.
Too calm.
The messenger shifted nervously.
"Sir?"
Finally, the man stood.
Moonlight slipped through a crack in the ceiling.
For a moment it illuminated a long scar stretching from his temple to his throat.
Then darkness swallowed him again.
"Twenty years."
His voice was smooth.
Dangerously smooth.
"Twenty years of silence."
He picked up Elara's photograph.
His thumb rested gently against her face.
"And now she returns."
The messenger swallowed.
"Is it really her?"
The scarred man smiled.
A terrible smile.
One that held no warmth whatsoever.
"No."
A pause.
Then:
"Which makes this far more interesting."
The candle suddenly extinguished.
Darkness flooded the room.
Only his voice remained.
"Watch the girl."
The messenger nodded.
"Yes, sir."
"And if she remembers..."
Silence.
Cold.
Patient.
Deadly.
Then came the final order.
"Bring her to me."
Far above, unaware of the eyes now fixed upon her, Amara slept.
And somewhere in Hollowmere, a secret buried twenty years ago had begun to wake.
- Writer
