Chapter 22
The chamber deep beneath the mausoleum glowed faintly, the nine circles carved into the marble table waiting to be filled. The torches hissed along the walls, lighting themselves in sequence as the families gathered around.
Carolina Edgeworth lifted her hand, her voice firm but reverent. "As in the beginning, so now again. Each family must name themselves, their role, and their first. Lay down your talisman, claim your spot in the circle, and speak."
A hush fell. The vow was about to be reforged.
The Weathermans stepped forward first. Rebecca placed the emerald at the head of the table, Thomas set down his silver pocket watch, and Deanna added a ribbon woven through her hair. Together, their voices rang out.
"We are the Weathermans. The Anchor.
I, Rebecca, with my children yet unborn Bianca, Penelope, Gabriel.
I, Deanna.
I, Thomas.
Children of Elias Weatherman, first of our name.
Our blood is the bargain the Hollow remembers."
Green light flared from their spot in the circle circle, steady and deep.
Nathaniel, Carolina, and Greyson stepped forward next. Carolina laid a pendant of black stone, Nathaniel a warlock's sigil burned into iron, Greyson his cane with its carved runes. Their voices braided together
"We are the Edgeworths. The Keepers.
I, Nathaniel.
I, Greyson.
I, Carolina.
Children of Henry Edgeworth, first of our name.
Guardians chained to the Hollow, holding the line."
Blue fire surged outward, steady as the sea.
Star and Steve approached, setting down an iron kettle and a leather-bound journal. Their words rang clear
"We are the Berkshires. The Watchers.
I, Star.
I, Steve.
Children of William Berkshire, first of our name.
We carry memory and stories, resisting erasure."
Amber light flickered like lanterns through fog.
The Boyds stepped forward as one Jonathan, Clara, Taylor, Elias laying tools of wood and stone upon the marble. Their voices spoke like hammer strikes:
"We are the Boyds. The Builders.
I, Jonathan.
I, Clara.
I, Taylor.
I, Elias.
Children of Adam Boyd, first of our name.
Our walls and sigils keep the Hollow at bay."
Bronze lines etched themselves across the table, glowing like fresh-forged steel.
The Callaghans followed, Patrick at their head, with Maeve, Siobhan, and Cormac beside him. They laid rosaries, a lock of hair, and a carved cross. Their chant was fierce:
"We are the Callaghans. The Threshold Keepers.
I, Patrick.
I, Maeve.
I, Siobhan.
I, Cormac.
I, Eileen.
Children of Sean Callaghan, first of our name.
We guard life's passages birth and death alike."
Red-gold fire sparked like iron struck at dawn.
Margaret Alden hobbled forward alone, laying her pressed-flower locket onto the marble. Her voice was thin, but it carried.
"I am Margaret Alden. The Flame.
Daughter of Francis Alden, first of our name.
I keep the celebrations, the gatherings, the joy the Hollow despises."
Soft yellow light flickered, fragile but warm.
Daniel Mercer approached with his great ledger, heavy as stone. He set it down with reverence, his words measured
"I am Daniel Mercer. The Eye.
Son of Charles Mercer, first of our name.
I keep the record, the histories, the words the Hollow cannot unmake."
Indigo sparks flared sharp as ink.
Millie Showman stepped forward alone. She placed a silver brooch shaped like a rose upon the stone. Her voice trembled, then steadied.
"I am Millie Showman. The Loom.
Daughter of James Showman, first of our name.
I bind the families together, whether they wish it or not."
Bronze-silver threads shimmered across the table, connecting each color to circle.
Carolina lifted her hand toward the final circle. Her voice shook but held. "The Michaels."
The chamber trembled. Silver light gathered in the air above the empty circle until a mirror descended, gleaming with ancient power. Its voice filled the chamber, resonant and inhuman
"We are the Michaels. The Mirror.
Descendants of Davida Michael, first of our name.
We reveal the shadow clinging to the soul.
Though our line is broken, our relic stands with the Nine."
The mirror shone blinding white as it settled into place.
All nine circles blazed, lines of fire leaping between them, weaving the families into one. The runes along the walls flared bright, and the chamber filled with the chanting of voices long dead.
Rebecca clutched the emerald, her children's voices rising with the light:
"The Circle is whole. We stand. We are one
All nine families together, fire racing between them until the whole table burned with light. The runes on the walls pulsed brighter, and the voices of the ancient founders rose in chorus, thundering through stone and blood alike:
"Nine stand. Nine speak. Nine bind.
As it was, so it is.
As it is, so it shall be.
The Circle is whole."
Rebecca clutched the emerald, her children's voices rising with the chant until she thought her heart might burst.
"We stand. We are one. We are the Nine."
The final echo of the First Nine faded, leaving the chamber vibrating with power. The marble table still blazed with light, every family's talisman bound by glowing threads. For a heartbeat, there was silence the Circle, whole once more.
Then the Mirror shuddered.
Its silver surface rippled, the glow shifting, dimming into something darker. Gasps rang around the chamber as the reflection dissolved, replaced by shadow.
Rebecca's stomach dropped as a figure emerged in the glass: tall, broad-shouldered, with eyes like burning coals. Harry Winston. His form flickered, distorted, but unmistakable. The Hollow clung to him like a cloak, writhing in tendrils that coiled around his arms and throat.
His mouth twisted into a smile that felt too real. Though no sound left his lips, his words echoed inside every mind present:
"So the Nine remember their chants. But you are late. And I am free."
The families staggered, some clutching their talismans as though they burned. Margaret Alden's breath rattled in her chest, and Elias Boyd cursed under his breath.
Rebecca clutched the emerald, her children stirring fiercely. Mother, beware. He walks again.
The Mirror flared brighter, forcing the vision sharper. Harry stood not in the Hollow's abyss but on familiar ground the edge of Hollows Edge itself. Behind him, the town flickered in and out of shadow, streets twisting like smoke.
Deanna cried out. "He's here. He's close."
The surface rippled once more before Harry's face loomed large, the shadows clawing outward as though trying to break through the glass.
Nathaniel slammed his hand against the table, his voice ringing out. "The Circle is whole! You cannot cross this ground!"
The Mirror blazed, severing the vision with a burst of white light. When it cleared, only their reflections remained, pale and shaken.
Rebecca's chest heaved, her palm pressed to the emerald. "He knows. He's coming for us."
Greyson leaned on his cane, voice grim. "Then let us prove the vow was not reforged in vain. The Hollow tests us tonight."
The chamber seemed to shiver with agreement. The Nine had spoken, and the Nine would stand but the storm gathered outside.