The sun was bleeding into the horizon when they reached the old records office. The sky had turned a bruised violet, streaked with dying gold, the last light slanting through cracked clouds like broken glass. Evelyn hugged her coat tighter around her as the wind picked up, carrying with it the smell of damp earth and rusted metal.
The building loomed ahead of them—a squat, rectangular thing of stone and rotting wood, its windows gaping like blind eyes. Most of the glass panes had long since shattered, leaving jagged teeth of glass in the frames. The front door sagged on its hinges, and ivy crawled up one side of the wall as if the forest itself had tried to strangle the place years ago and failed.
Evelyn swallowed hard. She had seen creepy buildings before—her own house had plenty of shadows—but this one carried a different kind of weight. It wasn't just old. It felt forgotten. And being forgotten had made it dangerous, like a wound left to rot.
Silas walked ahead, his boots crunching over gravel and broken glass. His posture was as tense as ever, shoulders squared, jaw locked, one hand brushing his jacket pocket where Evelyn knew he kept a knife. He didn't look at her, but she could tell from the stiffness of his back that he was on high alert.
Amara, on the other hand, moved with unnerving calm. She stayed close to Evelyn's side, a little too close, her arm brushing against Evelyn's now and then as though she were silently claiming space. Her eyes, dark and sharp, scanned the surroundings with a predator's focus. Unlike Silas, her tension came with a strange kind of ease, as if she thrived in places like this.
"Charming," Amara muttered when they stopped before the door.
Evelyn gave a nervous laugh that didn't last long. The building's silence pressed down on her, heavy and suffocating. She could almost imagine the voices trapped inside, whispering through the cracks.
Silas pushed the door open. It creaked like a dying thing, the sound echoing into the vast, empty interior. Dust swirled in the fading light.
Inside, the air was thick with mildew and the faint sweetness of old rot. Rows of filing cabinets lined the walls, their drawers crooked or broken. Long tables sat under shattered light fixtures, some covered in yellowed paper that curled at the edges. The floor was littered with folders, photographs, and brittle slips of newsprint.
Evelyn hesitated at the threshold. Her heartbeat was too loud in her ears.
"Stay behind me," Silas said without turning his head.
Amara's lips curved faintly. "And what if she wants me in front?"
The sharpness in her voice cut through the stale air. Evelyn glanced between them, stomach tightening, but neither looked at her. Their eyes were locked on each other, a silent battle.
"I'll stay with Amara," Evelyn said quickly, desperate to break the tension. Her voice came out smaller than she intended.
That seemed to satisfy Amara. She stepped in first, her shoulder brushing Evelyn's as she guided her inside. Silas followed, his eyes flicking toward Evelyn for a fraction of a second—something unspoken in his gaze—before he moved past them.
---
The inside of the records office felt like stepping into a mausoleum of paper. Every surface carried layers of dust so thick they dulled the once-white walls to gray. Cobwebs draped from the corners like faded curtains. Evelyn's footsteps echoed softly as she trailed after the others, her blanket of fear growing heavier with each step.
She tried to focus on the details instead of the way her hands were shaking. Faded notices still clung to a corkboard on the far wall—missing persons posters, mostly. The photographs were blurred and worn, but she could still make out faces: men, women, children. Families. All staring at her with the same hollow-eyed desperation.
Her stomach churned.
"Look," she whispered, pointing toward the board.
Amara went over first, tearing one of the notices from the pin. She held it carefully, her dark brows furrowing as she scanned the text. "Dates from thirty years ago. That's before Evelyn was even born."
Silas joined her, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the wall of missing people. "They line up with the disappearances."
Evelyn moved closer despite herself. The names printed beneath the photographs were faint, but she could still read them. And with each one, the whispers began.
At first, it was a faint hiss in the back of her mind. Then words began to form, overlapping, like a crowd murmuring at once. Help us. Don't forget us. Don't leave us here.
Her breath caught. She pressed her hands against her temples, but it didn't silence them.
"Evelyn?" Silas's voice cut through the fog.
She blinked at him, heart hammering. "They're… whispering again."
His jaw tightened. He stepped closer, steadying her with one hand at her shoulder.
Amara's eyes flicked to where his hand touched Evelyn, and for just a moment, her expression sharpened—like a flash of a blade. But when Evelyn looked back, Amara's face was smooth, calm, almost tender.
"You're not alone," Amara murmured softly. "Just focus on me. Block everything else out."
Evelyn tried, but the voices lingered, scraping at the inside of her skull. She forced herself to breathe through it, to keep moving.
---
They split up to search. Silas prowled along the rows of filing cabinets, tugging drawers open with harsh metallic screeches. Most were empty, their contents long since scattered or stolen.
Amara stuck close to Evelyn, picking up papers from the floor and flipping through them with quick, efficient movements. Every so often she'd lean closer, her shoulder brushing Evelyn's, her voice low as she explained what she found. "Birth records. Property deeds. Nothing useful."
Evelyn nodded, trying to focus. She picked up a stack of yellowed newspapers from one of the tables, brushing dust off the top page.
The headline made her breath hitch.
"ANOTHER FAMILY MISSING—AUTHORITIES BAFFLED."
Her hands shook as she scanned the article. It spoke of a family of four last seen alive one evening in the village. Neighbors reported hearing "strange noises" at night. Authorities searched, but no bodies were ever found.
Evelyn set the paper down with trembling fingers. Beneath it, another article waited.
"MASS EXODUS FROM VILLAGE—FEAR DRIVES RESIDENTS AWAY."
She read the first lines, her throat tightening: Rumors of a shadow moving through the streets at night have spread fear among the residents. Families are leaving in droves, abandoning their homes.
A shadow.
She didn't need anyone to tell her who that shadow was.
"Silas," she called, her voice breaking.
He was at her side almost instantly, his hand brushing hers as he took the newspaper. His eyes scanned the headline, then flicked toward her face. For a moment, his expression softened—concern breaking through the steel of his usual calm.
"This is him," Evelyn whispered. "He's been here all along."
Amara appeared at her other side, leaning over to look at the paper too. Her shoulder pressed against Evelyn's, deliberate. "Then we need to know how far back this goes. If he erased the whole village, there's more here."
Silas glanced at her sharply but didn't argue. He folded the newspaper and slid it into his jacket. "Keep looking."
---
The search dragged on. The light outside dimmed further, shadows pooling inside the records office like black water. Evelyn's nerves frayed with each creak of the building, each whisper that slid along her mind.
Then she noticed something.
On one of the tables, half-buried under stacks of paper, lay a leather-bound ledger. Unlike the others, it wasn't crumbling. The leather was cracked but intact, its metal clasp still faintly gleaming.
"Over here," she whispered.
Silas came quickly, brushing dust off the cover. He forced the clasp open and flipped the book onto the table.
Inside were names. Rows and rows of names written in neat handwriting, stretching across the pages like a list that never ended. Next to most of them was a single mark—an X, drawn dark and final.
Evelyn's heart stopped. "Are these…"
"Victims," Silas said grimly. "People he crossed off."
Amara leaned in, her jaw tightening. "He kept records of them? Like trophies."
Evelyn's hand trembled as she traced one of the names. The ink was faded, but the mark over it was harsh and fresh-looking, as if someone had gone back to press the X harder.
Her breath caught when she turned a page and froze.
Her family name.
It was faint, written near the bottom of the list, but it was there. No X through it. Not yet.
Her vision blurred. Her knees threatened to give out.
Amara's arm was around her in an instant, steadying her. "Hey. Hey, look at me. You're okay. You're here." Her voice was soft, soothing, but her grip on Evelyn was firm, almost possessive.
Silas's face hardened, his gaze flicking from the ledger to Evelyn, then to Amara's hand on her. "We need to move. Now."
Evelyn could barely breathe. The whispers in her head were rising, louder than before, like a crowd screaming.
But through the noise, she thought she heard something else.
A sound from upstairs.
Soft. Deliberate.
A footstep.
Her blood went cold.
---
Silas had his knife in hand before she could speak. His eyes locked on the ceiling, every muscle rigid.
Amara moved slightly in front of Evelyn, her stance protective, her gaze sharp. "We're not alone."
Evelyn clutched the ledger to her chest, her heart hammering. The whispers roared, drowning out her thoughts.
The three of them stood frozen in the dust-choked room, the silence broken only by the echo of that single, deliberate step.
And then—nothing.
Just silence.
Which, somehow, was worse.
The silence pressed on them like a living thing. Evelyn's fingers dug into the edges of the leather-bound ledger, the paper crinkling under her grip. Her breath came in shallow, uneven bursts, matching the thrum of her pulse. She could feel Silas's eyes on her, sharp and unreadable, but there was something more—an undercurrent of worry he refused to voice.
Amara, on the other side, remained impossibly calm, her posture rigid but poised, her hand still brushing lightly against Evelyn's arm. The subtle pressure felt like a tether, anchoring her to the moment even as the whispers clawed at the back of her skull.
"Do you hear that?" Evelyn's voice trembled.
Silas's hand moved instinctively to her shoulder. "Hear what?"
"The footsteps. Upstairs. Someone… someone is here."
Amara tilted her head, her dark eyes narrowing. "It could be a rat. Old buildings make noises."
Evelyn shook her head, almost violently. "No. This… this was deliberate. Someone walked across the floor like they were searching."
Silas drew a slow breath and nodded. "We check it. Carefully. Together."
He reached for the flashlight he'd brought in his jacket, switching it on with a soft click. The beam sliced through the thick darkness, cutting jagged lines across the tables and filing cabinets. Dust motes danced in the light like tiny specters.
Amara stepped closer to Evelyn. "Stay behind me. Don't wander off."
Her words made Evelyn's chest tighten. She had always relied on herself, on her instincts, but now she was being shepherded by two people who seemed more capable, more dangerous than she could ever hope to be. And yet… she felt safe.
For now.
---
They moved through the office with careful, deliberate steps. Silas took the left side, sweeping the flashlight across the room with slow arcs, while Amara led Evelyn on the right. Every shadow seemed to twist and breathe in the dim light, every noise amplified by the hollow walls.
Upstairs, the floor creaked under the weight of something unseen. Evelyn's stomach knotted. The whispers from the ledger had grown louder, almost as if the pages themselves were warning her.
"Look at the drawer," Silas muttered, pointing toward a set of filing cabinets tucked in the corner. One of the drawers was partially open, its lock broken.
Amara's hand brushed the top of the drawer. "Blood," she murmured. Her voice was flat, almost detached. Evelyn felt a shiver crawl up her spine.
Silas knelt and pried the drawer fully open. Inside lay a handful of items: a small, rusted axe, a tattered notebook, and a map covered in markings. The smell of iron was strong, sharp and metallic.
Evelyn's fingers shook as she reached for the map. The markings were detailed, precise. Houses circled, names written in tiny, deliberate letters, dates scribbled along the edges. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest.
Her own name was there.
She froze. The whispers were almost deafening now, voices of the past clawing at her mind. Don't leave us. Don't forget us. Don't let him win.
Amara's voice broke through the haze, soft but commanding. "Evelyn. Focus. Breathe. Look at me."
Her hand brushed against Evelyn's cheek, and the warmth of it grounded her for a moment. Silas, standing behind them, observed with narrowed eyes, lips pressed into a hard line.
"We can't stay," he said finally. "He knows where we are now."
Amara's gaze flicked to him, sharp, warning. "And running won't help either. We need information before we move. We need leverage."
Silas exhaled, tension easing from his shoulders slightly. "Fine. But we move quickly. One wrong step, and he'll be on us before we even reach the door."
---
They began sorting through the cabinets and tables, trying to find anything that could give them an edge. Evelyn felt a strange sense of urgency, almost manic. Each scrap of paper, each photograph, each newspaper clipping was a lifeline. She carefully placed the items she found into her bag, brushing dust off the edges with trembling hands.
Amara lingered close, offering quiet guidance. "This one," she said, pointing to a faded journal. "Check it. Could be useful."
Evelyn opened it carefully. Inside were sketches of the village, not maps this time, but rough illustrations of streets and homes, each house marked with a small symbol. Some of them had little notes scribbled beside them—dates, times, and cryptic words.
Her eyes widened as she recognized the handwriting. It matched the ledger.
"This is him," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "This is Edgar's hand."
Amara's eyes flicked toward Silas, almost knowingly, but she said nothing. Evelyn noticed the sharp glance and felt a pang of unease.
Silas stepped closer to her side, lowering his voice. "We catalog everything. Every name, every mark. We need to know what he did, what he planned. It's the only way to predict him."
Evelyn nodded, but she couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. Every shadow seemed to twitch, every sound felt amplified. She shivered despite herself.
---
Hours passed. The trio worked in near silence, only speaking when necessary. Evelyn felt exhaustion settle into her bones, but she pushed on, driven by fear and adrenaline.
Finally, they moved toward the basement of the records office. The stairs were narrow and creaking, each step threatening to betray them with a loud groan. Evelyn's stomach churned as they descended. The air grew colder, damper, and smelled faintly of mold and decay.
The basement was a cavern of darkness, filled with shelves stacked high with documents, boxes, and forgotten relics. Evelyn's flashlight beam caught glimpses of papers scattered across the floor, some with splashes of rust-colored stains.
She froze.
"Evelyn?" Silas's voice was tight.
She turned slowly. A footprint in the dust caught her eye—fresh, unmistakably human.
Her chest tightened. "Someone's here."
Amara's hand gripped her arm, firm but quick. "Stay calm. We'll handle it."
Silas moved ahead, knife in hand, eyes scanning the shadows. Evelyn's pulse pounded in her ears, matching the whispers that had returned, louder than before. The voices were frantic now, urgent, echoing from the walls themselves.
Then, a creak above them—the sound of a door moving upstairs.
Evelyn clutched the ledger to her chest. The whispers merged with the sound of the movement, forming a chorus of fear.
Amara pressed closer. "Do not panic," she whispered, almost possessively.
Silas's jaw tightened. "We need to leave. Now."
Evelyn nodded, but before they could move, she caught sight of something. A shadow at the edge of the light, just for a second, too large and deliberate to be a trick of the mind.
Her breath caught.
The whispering surged into a cacophony, voices overlapping, a thousand tiny knives scraping against her consciousness.
Amara's arm was around her shoulder, grounding her. Silas's knife caught the light, gleaming sharply.
And then… silence.
They froze.
A presence lingered in the shadows. Watching. Waiting.
Evelyn's stomach dropped. Edgar had been here. And he wasn't gone.