"The past is a thread we can’t pull without unraveling everything."

  ?? Song Suggestion: "The Night We Met" by Lord Huron

  The air had changed. It was no longer just the oppressive weight of Ashbourne or the tension building between Harrison and Emilia. There was something else now—something undeniable and growing stronger. The estate had shifted, and with it, the quiet hum of the past seemed to stir once again. The secrets hidden beneath the walls and within the rooms of Ashbourne were awakening, and neither of them was prepared for what was to come.

  The key from the desk burned a hole in Emilia’s pocket, and she felt the constant pull toward the next step—the next discovery. She couldn’t expin it, but every time she touched the key, a wave of familiarity washed over her. It was like they were meant to find it, meant to follow this strange, intricate path that had been id before them.

  And now, as they stood before the door at the end of the hallway—just beyond the grand staircase—the pull was irresistible.

  Harrison’s heart raced as he approached the door, the weight of the key heavy in his hand. They had come to this point, reached this pce, and yet, the truth still eluded them. Each step forward only revealed more questions, more fragments of a life that seemed just out of reach. The past they were so entwined with was something they couldn’t fully grasp, like a dream fading at the edges when you try to wake up.

  “Are you ready?” Emilia asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

  Harrison nodded, though his heart was pounding in his chest, each beat a reminder of what was at stake. The woman in the mirror. The fire. The loss. They had lived this story, and now they had to rewrite the ending.

  “I think we have no choice,” he said quietly, his fingers curling around the key. “We need to find out why we’re here. Why we’re drawn to Ashbourne. We need to understand what happened... what we’re remembering.”

  Emilia took a steadying breath, her gaze fixed on the locked door. It was the st barrier between them and the truth. “Let’s do this,” she said, and together, they stepped forward.

  With a quiet click, the key slid into the door’s lock, turning with a smooth motion that sent a chill through both of them. The door creaked open slowly, and a heavy gust of cold air swept through the corridor. It smelled faintly of burnt wood and old memories—a scent that seemed to be woven into the very fabric of Ashbourne.

  Inside, the room was dim, the shadows pying tricks on their eyes. The walls were lined with ancient bookshelves, the air thick with dust. But what caught their attention was the rge table at the center of the room, upon which y a collection of old, leather-bound books—just like the ones in the shop. The ones Harrison had always been drawn to.

  “This is it,” he whispered, stepping inside.

  Emilia felt the same pull. They were close. Everything in her had led her here. The letter in her apartment. The strange, haunting dreams. And now, this room, full of secrets that seemed to be just waiting for them to open.

  They moved to the table, and as Harrison reached for the first book, a sharp cry broke the silence.

  “Harrison!” Emilia gasped, her eyes wide with shock.

  At the far corner of the room stood a portrait—tattered and faded with age, its colors worn and nearly lost to time. Emilia blinked, her breath catching in her throat as she stared at the face in the painting. It was her—her, but not quite. The woman in the portrait had the same features, the same haunting eyes, but they were framed in a different time, a different lifetime. The same blue dress.

  But it wasn’t just the woman. The more Emilia looked at the portrait, the more the room seemed to shift, the edges of the walls blurring. And then she saw him. Harrison. Not the Harrison she knew, but a version of him from another life, his face younger, his eyes full of something she couldn’t yet pce. He stood beside her in the portrait, a silent witness to what had once been.

  A shiver ran through her. “Harrison, we were here,” she whispered. “We lived here. We were part of this—”

  Harrison stepped forward, his gaze fixed on the portrait. He reached out, his hand trembling as it hovered near the frame. And then, to his horror, the portrait flickered. The face of the woman shifted, becoming more real, the figure becoming more defined, almost as though she were stepping out of the painting itself. Her eyes locked onto his.

  The Past Speaks

  Her voice echoed in his mind, the words chilling and familiar. “You didn’t save me. You chose not to. But this time, you will. This time, we will rewrite it.”

  Harrison’s breath caught in his throat. He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t expin the sense of recognition, of deja vu—he couldn’t understand how this painting, this memory, this woman could be so real.

  The woman in the portrait stepped closer, her figure growing more solid with each passing moment. Harrison turned to Emilia, but when he looked back, the woman was gone. The painting had returned to its faded, ghostly state.

  “We have to break this,” Emilia whispered, her voice breaking. “We have to fix this, whatever it is. We can’t let this cycle repeat itself.”

  Harrison stared at her, his mind spinning. The portrait. The fire. The woman in blue. He had known her. He had loved her. And they had failed her. But now, standing in this room, they had been given another chance to right what was wrong.

  But the woman’s warning, the whisper in his mind—“You chose not to save me”—was it a curse? A warning of something they had yet to uncover?

  Harrison’s heart was heavy with the weight of the truth they were unearthing. The pieces of the puzzle were scattered, but each one was starting to fit together, and the image that was forming was more terrifying than he could have ever imagined. The truth about Ashbourne, the woman in the portrait, the truth about Emilia, and the cycle—it was all beginning to take shape. But there was so much more to discover.

  “We can’t run from this anymore,” Harrison said, his voice steady but filled with resolve. “We have to face it, together. Whatever this is, we have to find the answers.”

  End of Chapter 8