"The past is a door that once opened, will never fully close." – Anonymous

  ?? Song Suggestion: “Wayfaring Stranger” by Emmylou Harris

  The silence in Ashbourne was suffocating, wrapping around Harrison and Emilia like a thick fog. They had crossed a threshold they could never un-cross, and now they were left standing in the aftermath, their minds racing, their hearts echoing with the remnants of memories they hadn’t yet fully understood. The room with the chest—the letters, the familiar handwriting—had opened a door, but it had only led to more questions, more confusion.

  It was impossible to escape the feeling that Ashbourne had been waiting for them, pulling them closer and closer, each moment a step further into something they weren’t ready to face.

  The Ghosts of the Past

  The air around them was heavy with something unseen, something ancient. Harrison stood by the window, staring out at the decaying grounds of the estate, though his mind was far away. He couldn’t shake the image of the woman in blue. He couldn’t shake the feeling that she had been a part of his life long before this one, that Ashbourne wasn’t just a pce—it was a memory, a reflection of something that had happened before. The dream of the burning staircase haunted him still, that final moment of loss, the face of the woman, the name that had been written in the fire.

  But it wasn’t just a dream. It was real.

  “We’re trapped in this, aren’t we?” Emilia’s voice broke through his thoughts, soft but heavy with the weight of truth. She stood near him now, her hand hovering over the chest they had found in the room, the letter still clutched tightly in her fingers. “There’s no escaping it.”

  Harrison turned to her slowly, his face pale, his eyes shadowed by the intensity of their shared vision. “I don’t know if we’re trapped,” he said quietly. “But I know that we’re part of this story. And I don’t think we can get out until we understand it.”

  The way Emilia looked at him then—so many questions in her eyes—made his heart tighten. She wasn’t just a part of the puzzle. She was the key. He had seen it in his dreams. He had seen it in the reflection of the mirror. Emilia was tied to this, just as he was, but the depth of it, the weight of it, was still too much to grasp.

  As if summoned by their words, the house seemed to shift. The walls creaked and groaned, and the faint scent of smoke lingered in the air. It wasn’t just a memory—it was alive, a living presence that clung to them, pulling them deeper into the heart of its mystery.

  They moved cautiously through the house, the heavy silence pressing on them with each step. The deeper they went, the more the house seemed to close in around them. Emilia could feel it, too—the connection between the estate and themselves growing stronger, the pull of the past wrapping itself around their minds.

  At the end of the hall, a door stood partially ajar, the darkness beyond it beckoning them forward. Emilia reached for it first, her fingers trembling as she pushed it open. The room beyond was dim, but something glimmered in the far corner—a faint, almost imperceptible light.

  They stepped inside.

  The room was small, yet it held a strange sense of significance. There were no windows here, no view of the outside world, just a single, unassuming desk in the center. But it wasn’t the desk that caught their attention—it was the objects scattered across it: a stack of papers, a faded photograph, and a small wooden box.

  Harrison approached the desk first, his heart racing. As he picked up the photograph, his breath caught in his throat. It was him—or rather, it was a version of him he didn’t recognize. In the photograph, he was standing beside the woman in blue, the same woman he had seen in his dreams, the same woman whose eyes had haunted him in the mirror.

  But there was something else. The woman in the photo wasn’t just a ghost from the past. She was wearing the same dress Emilia had worn in the visions—the same blue dress.

  “This doesn’t make sense,” Emilia whispered, stepping forward to look at the photograph. She ran her fingers over the edges of the worn paper, the tension in her chest growing. “We’ve seen this. We’ve seen them... but why are they so familiar?”

  Harrison’s pulse quickened as he stared at the photograph, the truth beginning to unfurl. “Because it’s not just a memory.” He set the photograph down gently. “This was us. We lived here. We died here. And somehow… we’ve come back.”

  The words hung between them, and for a moment, everything felt as though it had stopped—time, reality, the pulse of the house—it all seemed to fade away, leaving only the stark truth.

  They were bound to Ashbourne. Their souls were tied to the estate in ways neither of them fully understood, but the more they uncovered, the clearer it became.

  “We need to find out what happened,” Emilia said, her voice barely a whisper. “Before we’re trapped here forever.”

  The Key to the Past

  The small wooden box on the desk had remained unnoticed by both of them until now. Emilia reached for it, her fingers brushing against the smooth surface. The box seemed to hum with energy, as though it had been waiting for someone to unlock it.

  She lifted the lid.

  Inside was a key, old and ornate, with a symbol carved into the surface—a symbol they both recognized, though they couldn’t pce it. It was the same symbol that had appeared on the map they had found in the bookshop, the symbol that had been etched into the pages of the journal.

  Harrison stared at the key, his heart pounding. “It’s time,” he said softly. “It’s time to find the door we were meant to open.”

  End of Chapter 7

  Harrison and Emilia, both shaken by their separate experiences, come to a terrifying realization—they are no longer just unlocking the past. The past is unlocking them. Their destinies are already set in motion. And it’s too te to stop the unraveling.