Here’s Chapter 21 of The Haunted Haven, written in English. This chapter pushes Ethan, Sophie, Lydia, and Dr. Nathaniel Pierce into a new task within the Haven’s depths, confronting a spectral adversary tied to the signal’s remnants. It maintains the blend of tension, humor, and character development, advancing the 42-chapter outline toward the climactic phase.

  Ethan Ward stood in the vast chamber beneath The Haunted Haven, the rusted keychain etched with Haven Core cold in his hand, the crystal’s faint glow dimming in his pocket. The signal’s hum was gone, replaced by an eerie stillness, but the faint scream from the crack in the wall—Lydia’s “final door”—pulled at him like a thread. The locket glowed warm against his leg, his parents’ voices silent but closer, trapped beyond the threshold’s heart. Sophie Bennett gripped her wrench beside him, flashlight beam steady, while Lydia Kane hovered ahead, her crimson dress vivid in the dark, her ring a quiet anchor. Dr. Nathaniel Pierce adjusted his receiver, its screen flat but flickering faintly, his cold eyes scanning the shadows.

  “Round ten,” Sophie said, her voice breaking the silence. “Feels like we’re in the belly of the beast now. Think it’s got teeth down here, doc?”

  Pierce smirked, pocketing the receiver. “No teeth—just echoes. The signal’s core is dead, but its remnants linger. We’re in its guts now.” He nodded at the crack, the scream sharpening. “That’s the heart—where it holds them.”

  Ethan’s grip tightened on the key, the journal under his arm—The signal’s us—driving him forward. “Then we cut it open,” he said, stepping toward the crack. “Lydia?”

  She glided ahead, her form steady. “The curse,” she said, her whisper sharp. “The Haven’s last grip—where it binds the lost. You’ll face it there.”

  “Curse?” Ethan asked, flashlight sweeping the dark. “What’s that mean?”

  “Pain,” Lydia said, her eyes piercing. “The signal’s will—its hunger. It won’t let go without a fight.”

  “Bring it on,” Sophie said, hefting her wrench with a grin. “We’ve got a winning streak.”

  They squeezed through the crack, the stone scraping Ethan’s shoulders, the air growing colder, thicker, a metallic tang biting his throat. The passage widened into a chamber—smaller, tighter, its walls pulsing with faint green symbols, the floor slick with damp rot. At the center loomed a clock tower—rusted, warped, its hands frozen at midnight, a cracked bell hanging silent above. The scream came from it, raw and mechanical, and the locket flared, hot against Ethan’s skin.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  “The curse,” Lydia said, stepping aside, her ring glowing. “It guards them.”

  Before Ethan could reply, the bell tolled—a deep, bone-rattling clang—and shadows erupted from the tower, not the vague lost, but a single figure: tall, skeletal, cloaked in tattered black, its face a hollow mask, eyes glowing red. It raised a hand, and the air thickened, the scream swelling into a wail that shook the chamber.

  “Clocktower creep!” Sophie shouted, swinging her wrench as a tendril lashed out. The metal clanged, the shadow recoiling, but it laughed—a low, grinding sound—and more tendrils surged, clawing at them.

  Ethan swung the key, its glow flaring, dissolving one, but the figure advanced, its wail deafening. “Lydia!” he yelled, dodging a strike. “What is it?”

  “The Haven’s will,” she said, her voice cutting through. “A lich—bound to the signal, guarding the lost. Break the bell—it’s its anchor.”

  Pierce pulled his receiver, its beep spiking. “She’s right,” he snapped, ducking a tendril. “The frequency’s in the bell—shatter it, and the curse breaks.”

  “On it!” Ethan bolted for the tower, the key burning, the locket pulsing. The lich lunged, its mask splitting into a grin, and a tendril slammed him back, knocking the wind from his chest. Sophie swung her wrench, a clang echoing as it hit the lich’s arm, and Lydia raised her ring, a faint red glow holding the tendrils at bay.

  “Ethan, now!” Sophie shouted, her flashlight slashing the dark.

  He scrambled up, the tower’s rungs slick under his hands, and climbed, the wail pounding in his skull. The bell loomed above, cracked but glowing, the scream radiating from it. He slammed the key against it, the glow erupting, and the metal shattered—a high, piercing shriek tearing through the chamber. The lich roared, its form trembling, and the shadows dissolved, the wail fading to silence.

  Ethan dropped to the floor, chest heaving, as a small object clattered from the bell’s wreckage—a rusted medallion, etched with a clock and the eye symbol, its edges warm. The lich sank into the stone, its red eyes dimming, and the chamber stilled, the hum gone.

  Sophie exhaled, lowering her wrench. “Curse zero, us one. Nice swing, boss.”

  Ethan picked up the medallion, the locket glowing—his parents’ photo sharper, their faces vivid, Lydia’s beside them. “It’s weaker,” he said, voice raw. “They’re closer.”

  Pierce adjusted his receiver, its screen flat. “The curse held the signal’s edge,” he said, voice low. “You’ve cracked it—opened the heart.”

  Lydia nodded, her ring steady. “The core’s exposed now. They’re there—beyond this.”

  Ethan turned to the wall, a faint crack widening, a scream echoing—human now, his mom’s voice: Ethan, hurry. His chest tightened, the medallion heavy in his pocket. “Then we’re going,” he said, stepping forward. “No more curses.”

  Sophie grinned, hefting her flashlight. “Round eleven, heart edition. Let’s rip it out.”

  Pierce’s smirk returned, faint but sharp. “Careful, Ward. It’s not dead yet.”

  Ethan gripped the key, Lydia’s gaze steady beside him. The Haven’s curse was broken, but its heart was beating—and he wasn’t stopping until it stopped too.