The house was silent.
Elora stood in the ruins of the living room, covered in dust and dried blood. The air crackled charged, like the calm before lightning struck.
Then the front door creaked open.
She turned slowly.
It was Emmanuel.
He looked like he hadn't slept in days. Eyes bloodshot. Face hollow. But he was real. Alive. Breathing.
"Elora?" he asked softly.
She didn't answer at first. She just stared at him.
"Emmanuel," she finally whispered. "You came back."
"I never really left." He stepped forward, cautiously. "I know… what you've become."
Her lips parted. "Then you should run."
But he didn't flinch. "No. Because I know why it's happening."
She blinked. "What do you mean?"
He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a journal old, leather-bound, burned at the edges. "This… belonged to your mother."
Elora's heart stopped.
The Secret
Emmanuel opened the journal. The pages were filled with symbols runes, rituals, scribbled notes in her mother's handwriting.
"She was trying to protect you," he said. "Not from the world. From yourself."
The truth spilled like blood on white sheets.
Elora had inherited something ancient. Her mother had been part of a secret order The Hollow Veil meant to keep what lived inside Elora locked away. But something went wrong.
The fire. The deaths. It was never random.
It was part of the ritual.
To transfer the entity completely into Elora.
And Emmanuel?
He knew.
He was part of the Hollow Veil too.
The Betrayal
"You knew what I was," she whispered, stepping back, trembling. "You knew this whole time…"
"I was supposed to kill you before it awoke," he said. "But I couldn't."
Her eyes flooded with tears not from sadness, but rage.
"You lied to me."
"I loved you."
"You used me."
She raised her hand and the walls shook. The house screamed.
"I won't be your weapon," she said coldly. "And I won't be your victim."
The floor cracked beneath her feet. The sky outside turned completely black.
"I am the curse," she whispered. "And I'm done being afraid of it."