Chapter 21
The meal had ended in silence after Tina's final warning. No one lingered at the table. One by one, the families rose, collecting shawls, lanterns, and heirlooms, the air heavy with anticipation.
The cemetery lay just beyond the estate, only a short walk from the great house. Still, the distance felt endless with the sun bleeding into the horizon, every step marked by the long reach of shadows stretching unnaturally across the grounds.
Rebecca walked at the front, the emerald warm against her skin, Nathaniel steady at her side, Deanna on her other. Behind them the lines formed Whitlocks muttering prayers, Callaghans gripping charms, Millie leaning on Taylor Boyd's arm with surprising resolve. Greyson and Carolina brought up the rear, her cane striking each stone with a sound like a drumbeat.
The closer they drew, the more the shadows danced. They pooled under trees, writhing like serpents, some reaching fingers along the gravel path before snapping back as if barred by some unseen line. More than once, Rebecca swore she saw faces in the dark hollow-eyed, whispering.
Deanna shivered. "They're circling us."
Nathaniel's hand brushed Rebecca's, his voice low. "They can't break through the wards here. Not yet. Stay steady."
The cemetery gates loomed at last, wrought iron twisted into arcs of roses and thorns. Beyond, the Edgeworth mausoleum rose from the earth, lanterns glowing faintly around its marble facade, casting a fragile halo of light.
Rebecca stopped for a breath, her heart pounding as her children's voices stirred within. Forward, Mother. The Nine must gather.
She lifted her chin, looked once at the gathering dusk where shadows writhed and clawed, and stepped through the gates.
The Circle followed.
The last light of day bled away as the Circle stepped through the cemetery gates. Shadows writhed along the iron fence, clawing, pressing, their whispers rising in a hungry chorus. Rebecca tightened her grip on the emerald, her children stirring inside her as though they sensed the Hollow's breath on their heels.
The air shifted. Cold at first, then suddenly warm like a hearth fire breaking through winter frost.
Shapes began to rise among the gravestones, faint glimmers at first, then clearer, more defined. A woman in a flowing gown, her hair pinned neatly, her eyes steady with kindness. Greyson gasped, dropping to one knee. "Helen" His wife smiled softly at him, the glow around her holding back the shadow's edge.
Beside her, another form took shape regal, tall, with Carolina's strong jaw and keen eyes. Carolina's breath caught. "Mother" Victoria Edgeworth glowed brightly "Go child the circle must form."
Two more emerged near the mausoleum path Jarred and Rene Edgeworth, lovers lost to the Hollow generations ago, their shoulders squared, eyes blazing as they turned toward the shadows like soldiers readying for battle.
Then Rebecca felt a pulse through the emerald. From the far side of the path, two more figures stepped forward: Samuel Weatherman, young but resolute, and beside him Elenor Weatherman, her presence warm as sunlight breaking through storm clouds. Deanna sobbed, covering her mouth with her hands. "Uncle Samuel Grandma Elenor"
The ghosts formed a line before the gates, their light brightening with each heartbeat. The shadows hissed and recoiled, trying to push through, but the Edgeworths and Weathermans lifted their hands, radiant force spilling outward like a shield.
Helen turned, her eyes meeting Greyson's. Her voice was clear as wind in the branches. "Take them inside. The Nine must sit tonight. We'll hold the Hollow long enough."
Rebecca's throat tightened. She stepped forward, tears streaking her cheeks. "Samuel"
Her uncle's spirit smiled faintly, boyish despite the weight in his gaze. "Go, Rebecca. Your children need you. We've waited long enough for this night."
Nathaniel stood frozen as Jarred Edgeworth brushed past him, the ghost's hand briefly clasping his shoulder. Though no flesh pressed, Nathaniel swore he felt strength seep into him. "Stand tall, son," his father murmured. "You are not alone."
The shadows surged against the gates, clawing higher, shrieking with hunger. Rene and Elenor raised their hands together, their light flaring brighter, driving the darkness back like a tide.
Greyson's cane struck the stone. "Move! Into the mausoleum now!"
The families surged forward as the spirits held the line. Rebecca's breath came in sobs, torn between awe and grief as she clutched Nathaniel's hand and hurried up the path. Behind them, the spectral family shone like stars against the storm.
At the mausoleum doors, Rebecca turned one last time. The spirits stood radiant, shadows snapping at their feet, their eyes fierce and unwavering. Helen's voice carried above the rest. "Go, Rebecca. Lead them. Love will hold longer than fear."
The marble doors groaned open at Rebecca's touch, and the families poured inside. As they stepped across the threshold, the doors boomed shut behind them, the glow of their ancestors sealing the Hollow back for now.
The stairs wound deep into the earth, the chanting of the spirits above still echoing faintly, though each step carried them further from the living world. The walls grew colder, smoother, carved with sigils so old their meanings had been forgotten by all but the Hollow. The torches lit themselves ahead of the Circle, guiding their descent in golden light.
At the base of the staircase loomed a massive stone door, carved with roses and thorns intertwined with runes. The air before it throbbed with power, as though centuries of vows pressed against the threshold.
Rebecca stepped forward, the emerald ring warm against her hand, her children's voices humming softly in her bones. "This is it," she whispered.
She reached out and laid her palm against the stone.
The world shattered.
A rush of air tore through her, lifting her off her feet. She gasped, her vision burning white before it cleared and she stood not in the mausoleum but in a great hall of another age. But somehow still in The same area the stone was rougher, the torches smoky, the air thick with incense and fear.
Nine figures stood around a crude table, their clothes centuries old cloaks, furs, wool, and iron. They bore the same names she knew, though their faces were strange: the first Weatherman, his hands scarred from tilling soil; the first Edgeworth, younger than Nathaniel had ever been, his eyes sharp with hunger for magic; the first Whitlock, the first Callaghan, the first Alden, and the others, each marked by their bloodline.
They argued, voices raised in desperation.
"The Hollow cannot be bargained with!" cried the first Mercer, clutching a heavy iron relic.
"It cannot be fought!" shouted the first Callaghan.
"Then it must be bound," the first Weatherman said, his voice low but steady.
The first Micheals slammed her hand on the table and shrieked " Who here is going to be bound to it, it has to be done freely."
Rebecca's heart pounded. She realized she wasn't just watching she was inside the memory. They couldn't see her, but she could hear every word as if she were among them.
The Edgeworth of that age stepped forward, his jaw hard. "If it must be bound, it will take all of us. Our blood, our heirs, our lines every single one of us united, or destroyed."
The Weatherman slammed his palm against the table. "Then let it be Nine. A Circle stronger than shadow, passed through generations until the Hollow is gone."
The air trembled as they each cut their palms, pressing blood to stone, sealing the vow. Power surged, shaking the hall. Rebecca staggered, clutching her chest as the weight of their words poured into her.
Then the Weatherman's gaze that ancient ancestor, his eyes burning like coals turned directly to her, though she knew he should not see her.
"Rebecca," he said, voice rumbling through time. "It is your turn now. Do not fail us."
The world snapped like a whip. Rebecca cried out as she was hurled backward, the vision tearing away. She slammed onto the cold stone floor of the mausoleum, gasping, Nathaniel's hands catching her before she fell further.
"Matriarch!" he shouted, his face pale with alarm.
Her breath came ragged, her fingers trembling over the emerald. "I saw them," she whispered. "The first Nine. The night they made the vow. They bound the Hollow and they saw me."
The stone door before them groaned, runes igniting one by one in glowing green. Slowly, heavily, it began to open.