Chapter Nineteen: The First Keeper
1013 Words
The name hung in the air long after Thomas had spoken.
Malachai.
The silence around them was unnatural.
Even the waves crashing against the cliffs below seemed to stop.
Rowan stared between Thomas and Elias.
“That’s the First Keeper?”
Thomas nodded.
“He wasn’t always known by that title.”
“What was he called?”
“I forgot his name.”
“No one remembers.”
“He made them forget.”
---
The bell in the tower began tolling again.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
With each ring, Ashmoor House trembled.
Below the mansion, the Heartbeat responded.
Thump.
…
Thump.
…
Thump.
…
Wait. Something was different about its cadence.
It…
Sounded weaker.
Mrs. Holloway burst into the roof.
“The Heart’s fading.”
“We know,” Rowan said.
“No.” Mrs. Holloway shook her head. “You don’t.”
She extended Eleanor’s compass toward Rowan.
The glass covering the face was shattered.
Its needle twitched back and forth erratically.
“It’s losing contact with the Heart.”
“The prison walls are coming down.”
---
Thomas moved closer to Rowan.
“We don’t have much time.”
“If that’s the case, then tell us everything,” Rowan insisted.
The boy hung his head.
“I can’t.”
Rowan raised an eyebrow.
“Why not?”
“I promised.”
“To whom?”
He chuckled bitterly.
“To Elias.”
---
Everyone stared at the ghost.
Elias’s face was as confused as theirs.
“I don’t remember.”
Thomas placed a hand on his shoulder.
“I know.”
“You asked me to forget.”
---
Before Rowan could pry any further, the earth shook.
The cemetery gates slammed shut by themselves.
Dark mist swirled around the tombstones.
Shadowy figures rose from the graves slowly at first, then quicker.
Not Watchers.
Ghost.
Hundreds of them.
Men, women, children.
Every ghost Rowan had encountered since arriving at Ashmoor House.
They weren’t aimlessly wandering about.
They were walking. Together.
Toward the mansion.
---
“They’ve never done this before,” Mrs. Holloway said.
Thomas’s face grew solemn.
“The ghosts are responding to the Heart.”
“What does that mean?”
“The last trial has begun.”
---
Back inside Ashmoor House, the ghosts congregated wordlessly in the grand foyer.
No one spoke. Everyone just stood there…forming perfect rows.
Observing.
Awaiting.
At the front of the group stood Clara.
She moved closer to Elias.
“It’s time.”
His eyes were brimming with tears as he met her gaze.
“I can’t do this. I don’t remember enough.”
“You do.” Clara took his face in her hands. “You remember what’s important.”
“No, I don’t remember!”
“Then you remember how to love.” Her voice cut through Rowan like a bolt of lightning.
Clara turned to her.
“And now that you know that…” She raised her hand.
Everyone closed their eyes.
Silver light filled the foyer.
The Heart beneath Ashmoor House gave another beat.
Memories cascaded through the room.
Not just Elias’.
Everyone’s.
Instantly, Rowan was standing in Ashmoor House ninety-eight years prior.
Except this time… when the memory reached the gunshot, it continued.
---
Elias crumpled to the ground.
The g*n clattered on the hardwood floor.
He was alive.
Arthur dropped to his knees in front of his son.
“No!” He began frantically pressing his hand against the wound.
Vivian cried uncontrollably beside them.
“I’m so sorry…”
“I’m sorry too…” Clara joined them both on the ground, cradling Elias’s head in her lap.
“You promised we’d escape together.”
“I know.”
“I’m trying.”
The hooded man stepped into the room.
He wasn’t rushing. He wasn’t frightened.
He was calm. Patient.
Malevolent.
Malachai stepped forward.
He stared down at Elias, who was losing a lot of blood.
“You chose family.”
“No!” Elias spat through gritted teeth. “I didn’t choose this!”
“You chose.”
Malachai knelt beside his dying son.
He reached out towards Elias, but he didn’t touch him.
Instead, he pressed his own hand against Elias’s chest.
A silver tendril shot out of Elias.
HIS SOUL.
“No!” Clara screamed.
She lurched forward, attempting to pull Elias away from the horrible man.
But she was frozen.
Transparent chains wrapped around her wrist.
Arthur’s wrist.
Vivian’s wrists.
No one could move.
Malachai turned to look at the Heart pulsing beneath the floor of Ashmoor House.
“A new guardian must be made to protect the prison.”
Slowly he began to bind Elias’s soul to the heart.
---
The vision ended.
Rowan fell backward into the present.
“You’re crying,” Rowan said.
Tears trickled down Elias’s cheeks.
“I didn’t want to become a ghost,” He sniffled.
“No,” Clara said softly. “You became the prison.”
A heavy silence settled over the room.
Each ghost bowed their head in mourning.
“We are sorry, Keeper,” Mrs. Holloway recited from Eleanor’s journal all those years ago. “Welcome to the fold.”
Bound Keeper.
---
A hollow chuckle resonated from below the house.
Floorboards cracked.
Silver roots erupted through them.
Dark veins spilled across them like spilled ink.
The Heart was rotting.
Thomas pulled Rowan to her feet.
“Run!”
“Run where? We can’t just leave Elias.”
“They’re coming!”
Three of the music room doors burst open.
Blackness flooded the house. Like an evil abyss stretching infinitely into the distance.
A figure stepped through it.
Malachai.
FOR THE FIRST TIME…
He wasn’t wearing his hood.
Rowan froze.
He was handsome. In another life.
He could’ve been kind.
But his eyes…
They were completely silver.
Dark.
Soulless.
Malachai smiled at Rowan.
“I’ve been waiting for you, Keeper.”
His hands rose above his head.
Behind him, the darkness coalesced into two MASSIVE wings.
“The last key…”
He whispered. “…has always been you.”
- Writer
