Chapter 18
The corridor yawned open like a throat, swallowing all light, all warmth. The shattered mirror still bled quietly on the stone floor behind them, each drop vanishing into hairline cracks that pulsed with breath.
Lila—or what was now both Lila and something older—stood at its mouth, her body trembling, her eyes no longer fully hers. Scarlet was stirring inside her like a storm under skin, pressing against the cage of her flesh with ancient hunger.
James held Olivia's lifeless hand one last time, pressing his lips to her fingertips. "I'll find you," he whispered. "Even if I have to crawl into hell itself."
But the house had already begun its final trial.
From the corridor, a sound rose—not a scream, not a voice, but the thundering crack of bone shifting beneath earth.
Lila turned. "We have to go. Now."
Henry nodded, steadying her. James followed, slower, haunted.
The tunnel curved like a serpent's spine. Along the walls were carvings—familiar symbols, twisted and burned, glowing dimly as they passed. There were names etched into the stone—Olivia, Scarlet, Lila—and others, faded and devoured.
"Why is my name here?" Lila whispered.
"The house keeps memory the way flesh keeps scars," Henry murmured.
As they reached a wider chamber, the air thickened. It smelled of rot and candlewax and things older than human breath.
And in the center…
A tree.
Black. Gnarled. Rooted into bone.
The tree pulsed like a heart.
Its bark was carved with symbols of binding, blood, and betrayal. From its branches hung strands of red thread and something darker—hair, perhaps. Or veins.
Lila staggered. Her nose bled. "She's here."
A figure stepped out from behind the tree. A woman, draped in a tattered red cloak, face shrouded, but her presence unmistakable.
Scarlet.
No longer a whisper. No longer a shadow.
Alive.
"You came," Scarlet said, her voice both Lila's and Olivia's and neither.
Henry moved forward, shielding Lila. "What are you?"
"I am what the house remembers when it forgets to forgive."
Scarlet raised her hand. The roots of the tree slithered forward like serpents.
James drew a knife from his jacket—something ceremonial, found in the attic weeks ago. "Then I'll help it forget you."
He lunged.
Scarlet smiled.
The roots struck first.
They pierced James's back with horrifying speed, lifting him off the ground. His scream was muffled by blood. The knife fell.
Lila gasped, reaching for him, but it was too late. James's body hung in the air, limbs twitching as the roots drank.
Henry grabbed Lila and pulled her back. "He gave us time. Don't waste it."
Scarlet's eyes burned through her veil. "You cannot run from memory."
Henry spun, dragging Lila toward the far wall, where an arch pulsed with the same glow as the stone on the altar. A final passage.
"Come on, Lila—stay with me!" he shouted.
But Lila collapsed to her knees. "She's inside me. I can't—I can't breathe."
Henry knelt beside her, gripping her face. "You are stronger than her. You've always been stronger than her."
From the roots, James's body hit the ground with a wet thud.
Scarlet stepped over it like a discarded cloak. "Let me in," she purred, crouching in front of Lila. "Let us finish what was started."
Lila's hands twitched. Blood dripped from her ears now. Her mouth opened, and two voices came out:
"I remember the fire—"
"I remember the silence—"
Henry didn't hesitate. He pressed the same blade James had dropped to his own palm and slashed. Blood spilled across the stone.
"By memory," he growled, "by bone, by breath—I call you back."
The altar in the chamber above responded. Its stone cracked. A scream echoed down the tunnel.
Olivia's scream.
Alive.
Scarlet turned sharply. "No."
But it was too late.
The house had remembered love.
Lila opened her eyes, and they were only hers again. "She's not yours."
And the roots recoiled.
Scarlet's scream shattered what was left of the chamber.
The tree split.
And the floor gave way beneath her.
Scarlet fell.
Into the bones.
Into the dark.
Gone.
Henry grabbed Lila just before the collapse swallowed them both. He held her tight.
The corridor closed behind them.
The house exhaled.
James lay still. A sacrifice. A savior.
But Olivia's body, far above, began to stir.