Evelyn's heart pounded as the thing from the crib lunged at her.
It wasn't just moving—it was pulling her, dragging her toward it with an unseen force, as if the darkness itself had hands wrapped around her body.
The figures in the cavern closed in, their hollow sockets locked onto her, their elongated fingers stretching toward her like hungry shadows.
She fought, twisting, clawing at the air—but it was useless.
A sharp, ice-cold pain shot through her chest, a suffocating pressure crushing her ribs.
The name she had spoken—it had sealed her fate.
She had let it out.
And now, it was taking her back.
But as her vision blurred, as her mind spiraled into the void, a voice—her mother's voice—cut through the noise.
"Evelyn—listen to me!"
She gasped, her body seizing as the memory struck her like lightning.
The Forgotten Truth
She was small again.
A child, standing in the same cavern, staring at the crib, her tiny hands trembling.
Her mother knelt beside her, clutching her shoulders, her face pale, her lips moving frantically.
"They will always come back."
"They will always whisper."
"But if you listen—if you answer—"
Her mother's voice broke, her hands tightening around Evelyn.
"You will become part of them."
A terrible sound filled the cavern—the whispering growing louder, the shadows slithering closer.
Her mother shook her, forcing Evelyn's gaze into hers.
"There's only one way to stop it."
Evelyn's small hands clutched at her mother's arms. "How? Tell me!"
Her mother's eyes filled with tears.
"You must bury the name."
"You must send it back."
"Before it takes you with it."
The cavern shuddered.
The memory fractured.
And Evelyn was back in the present.
The Last Choice
The thing from the crib was almost upon her.
Its mouth stretched wide, its lips peeling back to reveal something that was never meant to be seen.
The whispers reached a deafening roar.
The figures wrapped their hands around her, pulling her down, dragging her into the endless dark.
Her body went numb.
Her mind screamed.
Bury the name.
Send it back.
She didn't know how—but she had to try.
She forced her mouth open, fighting the suffocating grip of the shadows, and she screamed—
"I TAKE IT BACK!"
The cavern exploded.
The Banishment
A wave of light erupted from her body, slamming into the figures, into the thing from the crib, into the very air itself.
The whispers shattered, breaking into fragments of sound, like glass splintering in all directions.
The figures reeled back, their hollow sockets burning with the force of it.
The crib lurched, its wood cracking, splintering, as if something inside it was being sucked away.
The thing inside it screamed, a sound so unnatural it tore at the very fabric of reality.
The darkness cracked.
The cavern collapsed.
And then—
Silence.
The Awakening
Evelyn's eyes snapped open.
She was lying on her back, gasping for air, her body drenched in sweat.
She wasn't in the cavern.
She was back in the house.
The wooden floor beneath her was cold, dust curling in the air around her. The room was silent.
The crib was gone.
The whispers were gone.
She pressed a trembling hand to her chest.
She was alive.
And she had sent it back.
But as she sat up, a chill ran down her spine.
Because somewhere, in the distance—
So faint she almost thought she imagined it—
A single, quiet whisper remained.
"We will return."
The Mark Left Behind
Evelyn sat frozen, her breath caught in her throat.
The whisper had been so faint, almost indistinguishable from the wind that crept through the cracks in the old house.
But she had heard it.
And worse—she felt it.
A lingering presence, like cold fingers brushing against the back of her neck.
The shadows in the corners of the room seemed darker now, stretching just a little too far, as if something was still watching.
Something had changed.
She had sent it back, but she hadn't destroyed it.
And it wasn't finished with her.
The Wound That Would Not Heal
Evelyn pushed herself up, her hands shaking as she braced against the floor.
Her entire body ached, exhaustion weighing her down like lead. The events in the cavern—had they even been real?
She reached up, pressing her fingers to her forehead.
That's when she felt it.
A burning sensation, just beneath her skin.
She jerked her hand away, panic rising in her throat.
Moving on instinct, she scrambled to her feet and rushed to the dust-covered mirror hanging crookedly on the wall.
Her reflection stared back at her—wide-eyed, pale, disheveled.
But there was something else.
Something on her throat.
Her fingers trembled as she touched it, tracing the edges of what looked like a scar.
No—not a scar.
A symbol.
Burned into her skin, just above her collarbone, was a mark—intricate, curling lines that pulsed with something not quite natural.
Her stomach turned.
This wasn't over.
The thing in the crib had been sent back—but it had left something behind.
The House That Breathed
A sudden creak echoed through the empty house.
Evelyn spun around, her pulse hammering in her ears.
The walls shifted, as if the very structure of the house had inhaled and exhaled.
For a moment, she swore she saw movement in the hallway—a flicker of something just at the edge of her vision.
She wasn't alone.
The whisper had promised:
"We will return."
And now—they were still here.
Evelyn clenched her fists.
She wasn't the same terrified girl who had fled this house years ago.
She had spoken the name.
She had sent it back.
And if it thought she would just let this happen again—
It was wrong.
With one last glance at the mark on her throat, she stepped forward, ready to face whatever came next.
End of chapter 9.
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