2025-08-06 02:37:44The matchbook sat on the desk, the flame long extinguished, but its message still burning in Eli’s mind.
The Chapel Below. Midnight. Come Alone. The words weren’t a request. They were a summons. He knew it was a trap. Knew they were waiting. And yet, when midnight came, he was already walking the path back to Crest Hall. The campus was silent. Not the kind of silence that comes with sleep — but the kind that feels like the air is holding its breath. Windows were dark. Doors locked. Even the ever-present hum of the bell tower was gone. Eli passed the old quad, hands in his coat pockets, Lena’s flash drive buried deep inside. He walked the narrow stone path to the chapel entrance, beneath the stained-glass saints with eyes like knives. The doors groaned open. Inside, the pews were empty. The altar glowed faintly in moonlight that filtered through shattered panes overhead. And at the far end, the pulpit had been pushed aside, revealing a descending staircase Eli had never seen before. No turning back now. --- The steps spiraled into pitch darkness. Eli descended slowly, his breath echoing louder than his footsteps. Each turn seemed to stretch time — longer, deeper, older. Until at last, he reached it. The Chapel Below. A subterranean cathedral carved into the earth, lit only by candelabras suspended on rusted chains. The walls were covered in ancient Latin inscriptions. And in the center, a circle of stone where the floor dipped into a carved basin — an altar. He stepped closer. Etched around the basin were names — Kingston, Holloway, Greaves, Avery — the founding legacies. His bloodline carved into ritual. Then the lights shifted. He turned. The Watchers had arrived. Seven figures, each in a grey coat, faces shadowed, stepped silently into the outer ring of the room. No words. No movement. Until one of them stepped forward. Eli’s heart nearly stopped. It was his father. Not in memory. Not in photograph. In the flesh. Older, colder, but undeniably real. “Eli,” Daniel Kingston said, voice echoing in the stone. “You lied to me,” Eli breathed. “I protected you.” “You buried the truth.” “I buried the dead,” Daniel said sharply. “I silenced the past so you could have a future.” Eli stepped forward, fury shaking his voice. “Then why am I here?” “Because you’ve seen too much,” Daniel said. “And once seen, the Wheel must turn.” Eli’s voice dropped. “What wheel?” His father raised his hand. One of the Watchers stepped forward, placing an object at the center of the altar. A small wooden box, engraved with the Kingston crest. Daniel spoke: “Crestmore University was never just a school. It was a sanctuary — for knowledge, for blood, for sacrifice. Every generation must give something. And every heir must choose.” “Choose what?” “To inherit… or to vanish.” The box clicked open. Inside was a knife. Not ceremonial. Not symbolic. Real. Ancient. The blade dark with age and something far more recent. “You want me to kill someone?” Eli said. “No,” Daniel said. “We want you to remember.” He stepped closer. And in his hand now — a vial. Inside it: dark red liquid. Blood. Eli stared at it. “What is that?” “A memory,” Daniel said. “Drink it, and you’ll see what I saw. You’ll understand.” The air in the room thickened. “You said you tried to summon something,” Eli said. “Thirty years ago. What did you bring here?” Daniel’s smile was empty. “Not what. Who.” Eli took a step back. “No.” “You were chosen before you were born.” “I didn’t choose any of this.” “Exactly,” his father said. “That’s why it works.” --- The other Watchers began to chant. Low. Rhythmic. A language Eli didn’t recognize, but his bones did. The walls trembled. And the blood in the vial began to glow. Eli’s head pounded. Flashes of memories not his own—candles, screams, firelight on stone. A boy with silver eyes. A woman bound in shadow. He clutched his chest. His father stepped forward, placing the vial into Eli’s hand. “Drink. Or die.” The room spun. His vision blurred. And then— A crack. Loud. Gunshot? No. A scream. --- The chamber doors flew open. A figure in red stormed in, torchlight behind her. Lena. Bleeding from the shoulder. Hair wild. Eyes burning. She raised a flare and hurled it into the circle. Boom. Fire erupted across the basin. The Watchers fell back, screaming. Eli stumbled away from the altar, grabbing the knife from the box. Lena reached him, pulled him toward the exit. “We have sixty seconds,” she shouted. “Move!” “But—” “No time!” --- They ran through a second tunnel behind the chapel — narrow, curved, collapsing in places. Smoke choked the air. Voices screamed behind them. They didn’t stop until they burst out into the cemetery on the edge of campus. Graves glowed in moonlight. Eli collapsed near a tombstone, coughing, shaking. Lena dropped beside him. “You said you wouldn’t come back,” he rasped. “I lied.” He looked at her. “Why help me?” She hesitated. Then: “Because I saw what they did to Marcus. Because I watched my brother vanish. Because no one stopped them.” “And because of me?” Lena’s eyes didn’t leave his. “And because of you.” --- Eli lay on the grass, staring at the sky. The stars above Crest looked different now — colder, sharper. He reached into his coat and pulled out the vial. Still glowing faintly. “What is this?” he whispered. Lena looked at it. “That’s not blood,” she said. “That’s memory. Distilled from ritual. Drinking it doesn’t kill you. It turns you into one of them.” Eli stared at it. His inheritance. His damnation. He gripped the vial tight — and without warning — smashed it against the tombstone. Shards scattered in the dirt. The red liquid hissed. Fizzled. Vanished. He turned to Lena. “This ends with me.”
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Chapter 19: Beneath the Dome
The silence after the Sixth Toll was worse than the noise.Eli stood in the middle of the Shattered Dome, chest heaving, staring at the empty pedestal where the cubes had floated only seconds ago. The light was gone. The Watchers were gone. Callum was gone.Only the faint hum remained, a ghost of vibration that seemed to rise from the floor itself.Lena turned in a slow circle, eyes scanning the jagged ceiling and shadowed corners. “Where did they take him?”Eli crouched, pressing his palm flat against the cold stone. The hum was clearer now like a muffled engine running somewhere deep beneath his feet. “Down,” he said without thinking. “They went down.”Lena’s brow creased. “Down where? There’s no staircase in here.”He didn’t answer, already stepping toward the outer ring of the Dome. The walls here weren’t perfectly solid; narrow seams ran between the stone panels, each one etched with curling serpent’s-eye symbols. He dragged his fingers along the grooves until—Click.A section o
Chapter 8: The Fifth Toll
The first toll rolled through the Crest like thunder trapped in glass.Eli froze mid-step, his breath clouding in the sudden drop of temperature. He’d heard the bell many times before, always measured, clear, and solemn but this wasn’t that. The sound was wrong. Drawn out. Warped. Like it was being rung underwater, the vibrations dragging behind the chime until they scraped against the inside of his skull.Beside him, Lena’s head snapped toward the bell tower. “That’s… not the hour.”The second toll hit, lower this time, deeper than anything the old bronze could produce. It vibrated through the stone floor beneath them, humming in his teeth.They weren’t alone in feeling it. Across the quad, students stopped mid-conversation. Some blinked in confusion; others just stood there, eyes glazed over, lips moving as if reciting something unheard. One boy near the fountain tilted his head back like he was scenting the air, then smiled at nothing.The third toll.Every light in the nearest bui
Chapter 17: When the Bells Tolls
The first chime still echoed through the stacks when Eli stepped toward Callum.“What do you mean ‘containment’s over’?” Eli’s voice was low, but the question carried an edge.Callum’s eyes cut to Lena. “You brought her with you? Into that place?”“She’s the only reason I’m not dead right now,” Eli shot back.“Or the reason you’re about to be.”The second chime rolled through the library, deeper this time, as if something massive was moving beneath the floors. Dust drifted down from the upper shelves.Lena glanced upward. “That’s not the school bell.”“No,” Callum said grimly. “It’s the Founders’ Bell. It hasn’t rung in over a century.”The third toll hit like a physical wave, rattling the glass in the stained windows. Somewhere far below, a hollow grinding sound swelled and then stopped abruptly, unnaturally.Eli felt the cube in his jacket vibrate, faint but steady, in rhythm with his heartbeat.“What’s happening?” he demanded.Callum stepped closer, lowering his voice until Eli had
Chapter 16: The Pedestals Secret
The key was still cold in Eli’s hand when they reached the library.Even through his jacket pocket, he could feel its edges pressing into his palm like it had grown heavier since he’d taken it.They didn’t speak until they were inside — past the silent marble foyer, up the grand staircase, into the dim stillness of the third floor. The rain outside pounded the stained-glass windows, casting fractured pools of red and green over the stacks.Only when they were hidden between the oldest shelves did Lena finally slam her palms on the table.“You know what that thing was, right?”Eli dropped into a chair, leaning back like he could force the adrenaline from his bloodstream by sheer will. “A Watcher.”“Not just any Watcher.” Lena’s voice dropped, her eyes scanning the shadows. “The broken mask. Callum told me about it — the one that’s not supposed to be here anymore. It’s… wrong. Even to the others. The rest don’t go near it.”Eli turned the key over in his hand. The serpent’s-eye engravin
Chapter 15: The East Entrance
The key felt heavier than it looked. Not just in weight — in intent. Eli turned it over in his palm as he and Lena crossed the quad. The storm had eased to a fine mist, but the Crest’s old stone buildings still glistened black in the moonlight. Every window seemed to be watching. “You realize this is a terrible idea, right?” Lena said, her hood up, hands shoved deep in her pockets. “They’re all terrible ideas,” Eli replied. “This one just might have answers.” The east entrance of the North Wing was unlike any other door on campus. Tall, iron, and sunken into a recess of weathered stone, it looked more like the entry to a crypt than a school building. The brass handle was green with age, the keyhole rimmed in strange runes worn smooth by time. Eli slid the silver key into place. It turned with a single, echoing click. The door opened inward, exhaling cold air that smelled faintly of burnt incense and dust. Inside was darkness, not the kind that came from absence of light, but
Chapter 14: The Second Heir
Eli didn’t move. Callum stood framed in the narrow aisle, his posture relaxed but calculated — the kind of ease a predator wore before striking. The stormlight through the tall library windows caught the faint silver chain at his throat, disappearing beneath his collar. “You’ve been following me,” Eli said. It wasn’t a question. Callum’s grin tilted. “Observing, big difference right.” Lena crossed her arms. “That sounds exactly like something a stalker would say.” “I’m not here to hurt him,” Callum replied, as if she weren’t even a threat. His gaze was fixed on Eli, weighing him like he was confirming a rumor. “Your father didn’t tell you, did he?” Eli’s patience thinned. “Tell me what?” “That we’re not the only ones marked for the Rite.” Eli’s brow furrowed. “You’re marked?” Callum stepped closer, unbuttoning his cuff. He rolled back the sleeve to reveal the skin of his forearm — pale, except for a dark, spiraling sigil burned just below the crook of his elbow. The lines wer
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