Trust and betrayal
Chapter 13 – Trust and Betrayal
Ava Carter’s POV
The moment Damon said we needed to talk privately, a knot curled deep in my stomach. The séance had left the house soaked in an eerie silence. Even the air seemed thicker, denser—like the house itself was holding its breath.
I followed him to the east wing where an old library stood hidden behind heavy oak doors. The room smelled of worn leather and forgotten paper. Damon shut the door behind us, and the click of the lock echoed ominously.
"You lied to me," I whispered, still shaken. My hands trembled, my voice barely rising above the cold silence.
Damon turned toward me, his face pale in the soft glow of the chandelier. "I didn’t lie, Ava. I protected you. There’s a difference."
I laughed bitterly. "Protected me? I almost died tonight. Emilia saw—whatever that was. And the entity spoke through Margaret. Through me."
His eyes darkened. "I know. That’s why I need to explain. Everything."
He stepped forward, taking a heavy breath. "The woman in the mirror, the voices, the dreams—it all started after Isobel died. But it didn’t stop with her. There were others. Other women who lived in this house after her. All of them... changed. Some disappeared. Some lost their minds. My mother being one of them."
I flinched. "What do you mean, ‘lost their minds’?”
“She used to sit in that same nursery Emilia plays in and whisper lullabies to a child that wasn’t there. One day, she disappeared for a week. When we found her, she didn’t know who I was. Just kept calling me ‘the other one.’”
The weight of his words sank in.
He sat down, his voice lowering. “This place feeds on trauma. That’s why it keeps people here. That’s why it whispered to you, to Emilia. To Margaret."
"You said it wasn’t just a ghost," I murmured, pacing. "Then what is it?"
Damon hesitated. "It's not just one entity. It’s a collective. The pain. The loss. It builds. And it becomes something real. Tangible. I don’t know if it’s demonic or cursed or worse. But it’s real. And it wants you."
His words slammed into me like a wave. I sank onto the couch, my thoughts spinning. “You should have told me all of this sooner.”
“I wanted to,” he whispered. “But you wouldn’t have believed me.”
Before I could respond, the door burst open.
Margaret stood there, her face ashen. “She’s missing.”
“What?” Damon stood.
“Emilia. She’s not in her room.”
My heart dropped.
We all rushed into the corridor, the air now feeling oppressive, thick with electricity. Damon barked Emilia’s name while Margaret checked every possible hiding spot.
Then I saw it—the trail of red crayon, streaked along the hallway wall like breadcrumbs. I followed it, dread growing in my chest.
At the end of the hall was a door. One I’d never seen before.
It stood slightly ajar, darkness oozing from the gap like ink.
I pushed it open. Inside, candles burned low in a circle. Emilia stood in the center, barefoot, her white nightgown brushing the dusty floor.
She looked up at me and smiled. “She says she likes you.”
“Who, Emilia?” I asked carefully.
“The woman in the mirror. She says you’ll stay. Just like the others.”
Behind me, Damon gasped.
“She’s awake,” Emilia said.
And then every single candle extinguished at once.
---
I woke with a jolt the next morning in my room, my clothes still smelling of candle smoke. I wasn’t sure how I got there.
Margaret brought in breakfast but offered no explanation. Her hands shook as she placed the tray down.
“Where’s Emilia?” I asked.
“In the nursery,” she muttered. “Playing like nothing happened.”
I walked down, and sure enough, there Emilia was, drawing. Smiling.
Too normal.
“Emilia,” I said, kneeling beside her. “Do you remember what happened last night?”
She blinked. “I had a dream. The lady said you were going to be like mommy.”
I froze. “What do you mean, like your mommy?”
“She says you’re going to stay. Forever.”
My skin prickled with fear.
Later that evening, I found Damon in the garden. He stood beside a broken fountain, his eyes scanning the horizon like a man hunted.
“I think Emilia is being possessed,” I told him. “Or influenced. Something.”
“I know,” he said. “That’s why I did something you’re going to hate.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What did you do?”
He turned. “I contacted someone. A friend. A specialist. Someone who helped me when I first left this place after my parents died.”
I waited.
“She’s coming tomorrow. Her name is Cassia. She was a medium once, now she works in the field of psychospiritual trauma. She’s… unconventional.”
I folded my arms. “And you trust her?”
“She saved my life.”
Later that night, I went to Emilia’s room, but she wasn’t asleep. Instead, she sat up, eyes locked on the mirror across from her bed.
“She’s not happy,” Emilia whispered. “She’s angry now. Because you’re trying to take me away.”
I reached for her, but she shrank back.
“She says you’re the last one. Then she can rest.”
The light flickered.
“Who, Emilia? Who is she?”
Emilia’s eyes rolled back, and for one horrifying second, a smile curved her lips—but it wasn’t Emilia’s smile.
“She was betrayed,” she said in a strange voice. “Just like you will be.”
I staggered back.
Then Emilia fainted.
---
The next morning, Cassia arrived.
Tall, silver-haired, with piercing grey eyes that seemed to see through me. She carried no luggage—only a long wooden box and a satchel with hand-stitched runes.
“I felt her before I even stepped onto the grounds,” she murmured, eyeing the house. “She’s restless. This house reeks of unfinished death.”
Damon stepped forward. “Can you help us?”
Cassia’s smile was grim. “That depends. Are you ready for the truth? Or are you still hiding things from each other?”
We exchanged a glance.
Cassia walked past us, placing a small silver charm on the entryway. “Tonight, we do another séance. But this time, we don’t ask for permission. We demand answers.”
That evening, we gathered in the dining room. Cassia placed obsidian stones in a circle. Margaret refused to join, retreating to the kitchen. Emilia was asleep—or so we thought.
Candles flickered as Cassia began the ritual, chanting in a language I couldn’t place. Wind howled against the windows despite the clear skies.
Suddenly, the mirror in the hallway cracked with a piercing shriek.
Then the lights exploded, plunging us into darkness.
A figure stood behind Damon. A woman in white. Her eyes were black voids.
Cassia gasped. “It’s not just her. It’s them—all of them. Trapped. Angry. And they’re coming through.”
I screamed.
The last thing I saw was Damon reaching for me.
And then—
Nothing.
---
To Be Continued…