The Ravenwood Palace

The Faces in the Dark.

Lucas stood in the center of the room, the lantern swaying faintly in his grip. The glow pooled over the walls, dragging shadows into long, crooked shapes. The handprint lingered in his mind, fresh and damp against ancient stone. And that voice—impossible, unmistakable.

Evelyn

He closed his eyes. For a moment he was back in the flames, a boy choking on smoke, reaching through collapsing beams for his sister’s hand—and finding only air. Her scream had followed him ever since, carved into his bones.

But the voice here hadn’t been a scream. It had been calm. Calling him.

His eyes snapped open, heart pounding.

The wall of words seemed to pulse in the flickering light, letters swimming until they blurred. Faces swam in the scrawl—Anna’s pale, frightened eyes, his sister’s smile, and, behind them, Eveline Ravenwood’s sharp, cruel features. They shifted with each blink, mocking his exhaustion.

Lucas dragged a hand over his scarred jaw, forcing himself to breathe. It isn’t real. It’s the house. It wants me unsteady.

Yet the scent of lavender clung to the shawl on the chair. Anna had been here. That was real. And if Eveline’s spirit had touched her mind, as the notebook claimed… then what he heard might not be madness at all.

The whisper came again, softer, coaxing:

“Lucas… come home.”

He spun, lantern raised, revolver drawn. The curtains shivered, but nothing stood behind them.

Then, in the cracked glass at his feet, he saw her. Not Anna. Not Eveline. His sister. Emily. Her reflection gazed back at him from a hundred broken shards—eyes wide, lips moving soundlessly.

Lucas dropped to his knees, fingers brushing the largest shard. His reflection bled into hers, their faces fractured together.

“Evelyn,” he whispered. His voice broke on the name. “I couldn’t save you… but maybe—”

The shard darkened suddenly, her image twisting. Her mouth opened too wide, splitting into a grin that wasn’t hers. The voice that came was layered—childlike and venomous.

“You’ll fail her too. Just like you failed me.”

The glass split further, shattering beneath his touch. The sound echoed like a scream through the room.

Lucas staggered back, breath ragged. He holstered the revolver with shaking hands, gripping the lantern as though it were the only solid thing left in the world.

He forced himself to look at the words again. This time, they no longer swam—they sharpened, every phrase cutting deep. She is not gone. She waits.

Was it Anna? Eveline? Evelyn? Or all of them, braided together in the madness of this place?

Lucas straightened, shoulders heavy, jaw tight. Whatever the truth, he knew one thing: Ravenwood wanted him to doubt his own mind. And that meant it feared what he might uncover.

He raised the lantern higher, its glow catching on something at the far wall—a seam in the stone, subtle, almost invisible. A hidden line.

A door.