Then knocking. It came again, slow and deliberate. Not asking. Not demanding. Just announcing. Then, as suddenly as it had begun - silence. The house went quiet again. Too quiet. Lea pulled Gemini back from the door, hard, her grip pressing bruises into the girl's wrist. "Enough."

  Gemini just laughed. Not loud, but mocking and pleased. As if the house had answered her. Lea didn't wait to see what would happen next. She turned sharply and grabbed Sandra's arm. "We'll sleep in the parlor tonight."

  Sandra didn't argue. She looked at the door one last time, her breath quivering in her chest, then followed. Gemini lingered. Her hand still rested on the wood. Then, after a long, patient moment, she turned and followed them. The whispers in the walls faded. But Lea knew they hadn't stopped. They were just waiting for her to fall asleep.

  —————

  The night was too long. Lea sat in the chair by the cold fireplace, the knife resting against her thigh. She did not sleep. Sandra curled up on the couch, wrapped in an old quilt, but her breathing was too fast, too easy. She wasn't sleeping either.

  Gemini had stretched out on the floor, one arm draped lazily over her stomach, her lips still curled in that same knowing smile. She had fallen asleep too easily.

  Lea watched her, her jaw clenched, her grip on the handle of her knife flexing. The house was watching her. She could feel it, pressing against her skin, settling into the space between breaths.

  The floorboards creaked. Lea stiffened. Not a settling sound. A step. A long, slow step. She exhaled softly, fingers tightening around the blade. A second step. Closer. Lea's eyes flicked to Sandra-still awake, still listening. The air pressed thickly against her.

  Another step.

  Then the long exhale of breath. Not hers. Not Sandra's. Not Gemini's. Something else. Something standing at the foot of Sandra's couch.

  Sandra's eyes widened. She saw it. Lea saw nothing. But Sandra saw something. A shape. A figure. Tall. Thin. Not right. And then it moved. Sandra made a small, choked sound, pulling the blanket over her face, her body stiffening. The breathing came closer.

  Lea was moving. Quickly. She lunged forward, swinging the knife blindly at the air between them. The blade hit nothing. But the room shook. The house shook. And then the breathing stopped.

  Lea stood, heart pounding, blade still raised. Sandra remained buried under the blanket. Gemini turned on her side, resting her head on her arm, and opened her eyes. And smiled. Then, in a low whisper, almost amused: "She was just watching."

  Lea didn't move. Her knife still floated in the air, her pulse pounding under her skin. The room was thick with the absence of something. The breathing was gone. But the presence wasn't.

  Sandra's small frame was curled tightly under the blanket, her hands gripping the fabric so tightly that her knuckles were white. She wasn't crying. She wasn't even shaking. But Lea knew. She knew. Sandra had seen it. Whatever had stood at the foot of the couch, whatever had breathed into the air between them - Sandra had looked into its face.

  And Lea had missed it. A slow creak settled in the floorboards. Not heavy enough to be a footstep. Just enough to remind her that it was still there.

  Lea lowered her knife, her grip still tight, her gaze fixed on the space where something had just been. Gemini sighed. Not even a little afraid. Not even bothered. Just bored. She propped herself up on her elbows and stretched lazily. "You should go back to sleep, Sandra."

  Sandra didn't move. Gemini tilted her head and smiled. "She's just watching." Lea's jaw tightened. "What did you see?"

  Sandra swallowed. Her fingers tightened on the blanket. Then-slowly-she lowered it just enough for her eyes to peer over the edge. Wide. Hollow. Distant. She licked her lips, so dry now. "It was a woman."

  Lea felt something tighten in her chest. Sandra's voice was barely above a whisper. "Her mouth was wrong."

  Lea held her ground. "Wrong how?"

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  Sandra blinked slowly, too slowly. "She smiled."

  Gemini exhaled softly. "That's nice."

  Lea's eyes snapped to hers. Gemini was still smiling, too. Not wide. Not mocking. Just small. Knowing. Lea's fingers twitched around the knife. "You saw her."

  Gemini stretched and rolled onto her side, resting her cheek against her palm. "Of course I did."

  Lea's breath came slowly. "And you weren't afraid."

  Gemini's lips curled slightly, amusement flickering in her eyes. "Why would I be afraid of myself?"

  The house groaned. The ground beneath them sighed. And Lea - just for a moment - was not sure if Gemini was lying. Her words hung wrong in the air.

  Why should I be afraid of myself?

  Lea felt them settle in the room, thick and heavy, as if the house had been waiting for them to be spoken. Gemini's smile was too small. Too quiet. The fire had burned low in the hearth, leaving long, jagged shadows on the walls, shifting as if something were moving in them. Lea knew how to read a room. And this one was listening. She exhaled. Slowly.

  Controlled. She turned back to Sandra.

  Sandra hadn't taken her eyes off the space at the foot of the couch. The place where something had been. Her fingers trembled on the blanket. Lea crouched in front of her. "What else did you see?"

  Sandra swallowed hard. "Her mouth..." She trailed off, her expression distant, as if she still saw it.

  Lea's stomach tightened. "Sandra."

  Sandra inhaled sharply, blinking up at her. "It moved wrong. Like..." She hesitated. "Like it wasn't hers."

  The air in the room shifted. Gemini sighed and leaned her head against the armrest. "That's rude. Maybe she just wanted to say hello."

  Sandra shuddered. Then a voice. Not from the room. Not from the hallway. From the walls. Deep and layered, like it was coming from many mouths at once, moaning through the wooden beams, curling into the gaps between the floorboards. "The market still calls."

  Sandra flinched. Lea stood still, the knife back in her grip, and turned toward the whisper. But there was nothing. No movement. No presence. Just the hollow weight of the words left behind.

  "The market still calls."

  Lea's pulse ticked. Her fingers tightened around the knife. The black market. The place Maddox had been taken, she believed. The place that had never let anyone return.

  Gemini hummed, her fingers idly tracing patterns in the dust beside her. "I wondered when they'd remember us."

  Lea turned to her. Cold. Sharp. Dangerous. "You knew this was coming." Gemini lifted a slow, lazy gaze to her. "Didn't you?"

  Lea didn't answer. Because she already knew. They were coming back for her.

  11/01/1911

  As the first pale light of morning crept through the heavy curtains, the house was finally silent. The whispers that had crept through the walls, the slow, labored breathing that had lingered at the foot of Sandra's couch, the unnatural presence that had stretched the night into something endless - all of it had retreated, slipped back into the unseen corners where it had lurked. And yet the weight of it remained.

  Lea sat motionless in the worn armchair, her grip still loose around the knife that had not left her hand all night, her knuckles stiff from holding it too tightly for too long. Sleep had not come, nor had it come for Sandra, her small form curled up on the edge of the couch, her wide eyes shadowed, her fingers pressed deep into her temples as if she could force out the memories of what had stood there in the darkness.

  The fire had long since burned down to weak, dying embers, providing only a faint, flickering light that barely reached beyond the hearth, leaving the edges of the room heavy with unmoving shadows. The air, thick and stale, felt unnatural - tainted by something that had passed through, something that had used it, breathed it, left it changed in ways that could not be undone.

  Gemini was the first to stir. With an unhurried sigh, she stretched, arching her back, fingers intertwined above her head as if she had slept soundly as if the night had been nothing but a quiet passage of hours rather than a slow, creeping descent into something unspeakable. Her movements were fluid, unaffected by fear, unaffected by the weight of the others. She moved as if she belonged here.

  Sandra barely looked up, her face pale under the flickering light. Lea saw it - the slow unraveling, the frayed edges, the way the night had eaten away at her. She was slipping.

  Gemini ran her fingers through her tangled hair, her lips curling into something slightly amused. "Were you dreaming, little bird?" The endearment dripped from her tongue like a soft taunt.

  Sandra flinched, her shoulders hunched as if she was trying to make herself smaller. "No." Gemini hummed, the sound low, almost indulgent. "You're lying."

  Lea moved before the tension could stretch any further, her voice cutting through the silence like the edge of a blade. "Enough." Gemini just grinned but said nothing more. Sandra exhaled, the sound shaky, her breathing uneven. And then, finally, she spoke, her voice hoarse from the weight of the words she had held back. "It spoke to us."

  Lea turned to her, waiting. Not pushing. Just listening.

  Sandra swallowed hard, her throat lurching. Then, softer this time, a whisper. "The market still calls."

  Lea felt her stomach twist, the words settling like ice in her ribs. This wasn't over. It had never been over. The market, the place that had taken so much from them, that had swallowed Maddox whole, leaving only echoes in its wake, had never really let her go. And now, after all this time, it was calling them back.

  Sandra's fingers twisted in the fabric of her dress, small and desperate. "What do we do?"

  Gemini just smiled, that slow, knowing smile that never quite reached her eyes, that always seemed to suggest she had been waiting for this moment all along. As she moved toward the mirror, her fingers tracing the dust-covered surface, she spoke loudly, not mockingly, but softly, almost kindly, as if offering reassurance.

  "You shouldn't be afraid," she murmured, her fingertips brushing the glass. "Not of her."

  Lea exhaled slowly, forcing her breathing to remain steady. The house creaked, and the walls shifted around them. And then Sandra gasped. For in the reflection of the mirror, distorted by dust and age, there were not three figures standing in the parlor.

  There were four.