Chapter 18 – Echoes of the Hidden Past
The creaking of old wood echoed as the heavy basement door slowly opened, revealing a damp gloom filled with a thick, heavy air as if every particle was soaked in forgotten secrets. Noah's flashlight flickered across cracked, moisture-stained walls, where faint marks — carved by trembling hands — barely showed.
As they stepped in, a wave of smells hit them: the musty scent of rotting wood, melted wax from long-extinguished candles, and a faint metallic hint, as if blood itself had touched those stones. In the center, a dark oak table displayed an organized chaos: piles of yellowed papers, worn notebooks, jars of opaque colored liquids, and rusty objects scattered like relics of memories.
Rei approached cautiously, silence pressing down on every breath. His trembling hand reached out to an open notebook, where tight, shaky lines told stories whispered by distant voices.
Record 1 – 1923
"The children were brought here, stripped of their past and confined in this house that promised care but hid a nightmare. The basement, dark and damp, was not just a physical place but the prison where Ershem, a spirit born of childhood suffering, was locked away to contain his power and pain."
The air seemed to vibrate, and a fleeting shadow passed along the wall, as if Ershem himself watched from the darkness. Yuki shivered and squeezed Rei's hand tightly — a silent bond between them.
"Ershem wasn't always this dark entity," Rei whispered. "He was a child, someone who suffered, and now just wants to be heard."
Around them, jars caught the flashlight's beam, reflecting blurred figures as if time bent and the past lived among those objects.
Yuki knelt to open a nearby book, finding childish drawings colored with innocent hands, but crossed out with black lines as if someone wanted to erase those memories.
Record 2 – 1930
"Ershem tried to communicate with the children, using his power to protect them from the shadows stalking inside and outside the house. Yet his pain fed a darkness that grew over time, creating an unsettling veil that still weighs on these walls."
Noah lit another candle, its flickering flame illuminating a face marked by curiosity and growing unease.
"Now I understand why the house seems to breathe," he murmured. "It's the trapped energy of Ershem and the children — an ecosystem of pain and hope."
As they read, the cold grew, and the atmosphere became almost tangible. Barely audible whispers brushed their ears, fragmented words mixed with distant laughter and sobs. Ershem was not only a specter of terror but a presence longing for redemption.