chapter 3: the echoing bells
1049 Words
The next morning was colder.
Elian wrapped herself in her jacket as she walked downstairs to breakfast. Her mind was still clouded with the heavy dream from the night before. Her chest ached where she had touched the woman’s hand in the dream, though she knew it was impossible.
The dining room was quieter today. Even Mia looked tired, yawning over her bowl of cereal.
"Did you sleep?" Mia asked.
Elian shook her head. "Weird dreams again."
Mia gave a half-smile. "Maybe it’s the creepy air. Or the weird old buildings. Messing with your head."
Maybe, Elian thought. But deep down, she knew it wasn’t that simple.
Mr. Holloway stood up, waving a sheet of paper.
"Today's a free day!" he said. "You can explore in groups of three or more. No wandering off alone. I repeat—no wandering off alone."
He gave Elian a quick glance as he said it, like he already knew she'd be the one to forget the rule.
Mia looked excited. "Let’s go shopping! I heard there's a flea market near the river."
Elian smiled weakly. She didn’t want to shop. She wanted answers.
But she didn’t want to be alone, either.
"Yeah," she said. "Shopping sounds good."
The market was like a strange dream.
Vendors sold handwoven baskets, old books, jewelry that looked ancient. There were stalls filled with strange herbs and small glass bottles fill
The market was like a strange dream.
Vendors sold handwoven baskets, old books, and jewelry that looked ancient. There were stalls filled with strange herbs and small glass bottles filled with colored smoke.
Elian walked between the stalls with Mia and another classmate, Jonah, trying to act normal.
At one stall, a woman with long gray hair grabbed Elian's hand.
"You carry an old wound," she whispered.
Elian froze.
The woman pressed something into her palm—a small silver coin etched with a strange symbol—and then disappeared into the crowd without another word.
"That was weird," Mia said, laughing nervously. "Come on, let’s find something less creepy."
Elian opened her hand. The coin was cold, and when she touched the symbol, it seemed to pulse under her fingers.
She slipped it into her pocket without telling Mia.
After the market, they walked by the river. The mist was thinner here, but it still clung to the edges of the water, curling like fingers.
Jonah spotted an old church on the hill above them.
"Bet that place is haunted," he joked.
Mia elbowed him. "Don’t start."
Elian stared at the church. Its steeple rose sharp against the gray sky. The bells, huge and heavy, hung still and silent.
Something about it tugged at her memory.
The bells from her dream.
The bells that rang on their own.
Later that afternoon, back at the hotel, Elian couldn’t sit still.
Mia and Jonah were napping, tired from walking all day.
Elian stared out the window at the mist. It moved like a living thing.
She thought about the church, the garden, the name Raelith, the old book, the shopkeeper’s words.
"You carry their blood."
Everything pointed back to the same place.
She had to go back to the garden.
She had to find out the truth.
The streets were almost empty.
Elian kept her head down, walking quickly. Her heart pounded harder with every step.
The iron gate of the garden stood ahead, twisted with vines. The mist hung heavy here, thicker than anywhere else.
Elian grabbed the gate.
It groaned as it swung open.
For a second, she hesitated. Every instinct screamed at her to run back to the hotel, to pretend none of this was happening.
But something stronger pushed her forward.
She stepped inside.
The garden was worse up close. The plants were dead or dying. Black vines crawled over crumbling statues. The air smelled of damp earth and something old—something rotting.
Elian moved slowly down the broken path, the mist swirling around her legs.
In the center of the garden was a dry fountain. Cracks ran through it like spiderwebs. A figure stood beside it.
The woman from her dreams.
She wore a dark dress that moved like smoke. Her face was hidden beneath a hood.
Elian stopped, frozen.
The woman raised her head.
"You have come," she said, her voice soft and hollow.
Elian’s mouth went dry. "Who are you?"
The woman tilted her head. "You already know."
Elian shook her head. "I don't... I don’t understand any of this."
The woman stepped closer. Her presence was overwhelming, like a cold wind pressing against Elian’s skin.
"You are Raelith’s blood," the woman said. "You are bound to this place. It has called you back."
"No," Elian said, backing up. "I’m just—I'm just a girl. A tourist. I don’t belong here."
The woman’s lips curled into a sad smile.
"You belong more than you know."
Suddenly, the ground trembled.
The vines snapped to life, wrapping around the broken statues, tearing through the earth.
The mist thickened into shapes—figures—shadowy and shifting.
Elian stumbled back, heart racing.
"What’s happening?" she shouted.
The woman’s eyes gleamed.
"The awakening has begun."
The bells of the old church began to ring, loud and deep, echoing across the town.
BOOM.
BOOM.
BOOM.
Each sound seemed to shake the air itself.
Elian covered her ears, but the sound wasn’t just outside. It was inside her, vibrating in her bones.
The woman stepped back into the mist.
"You must choose," she said. "Before they find you."
"Who?" Elian cried out. "Who’s coming?"
But the woman was already gone, swallowed by the mist.
The ground cracked open at Elian’s feet.
From the darkness below, something moved—something with pale hands and hollow eyes, crawling up toward her.
Elian turned to run—
And found herself face to face with a boy her age, standing just a few feet away.
He had black hair, sharp features, and eyes that seemed too bright, almost silver.
"You’re not safe here," he said urgently. "Come with me—now."
Before Elian could answer, the ground behind her split wider, and a long, thin hand reached out, grabbing at her ankle.
The boy lunged forward, grabbing her arm—
And then they both tumbled into the mist.
- Writer
