The rain had returned — soft at first, whispering against the windowpanes like a voice trying to be remembered. The three of them stood around the table once more, the old folder lying open under the dim light. Every page they'd turned, every word they'd read, had dragged them deeper into something far older and darker than they'd imagined.
The name Malcolm Soren lingered between them like the taste of metal in their mouths. It was a name the valley never spoke aloud anymore, though everyone still lived in the shadow of his power.
The older brother's jaw was set as he poured over the fragile papers. "He controlled everything — the mills, the transport lines, even the land rights. People vanished around him, and no one dared to ask why."
"But if he's gone," the younger one said, "how can the stranger be connected to him?"
"He isn't just connected," the older brother replied quietly. "He's continuing what Soren started."
She sat back, watching the candle flicker. "And the name in the letter — the one they erased — it's someone who saw too much?"
"Yes," he murmured. "Someone who could destroy him."
The younger brother frowned. "Or save him."
That thought hung there like an echo.
Suddenly, the candlelight dimmed as a gust of wind pushed through the half-open window. The older brother crossed the room to shut it — and froze.
There, tucked under the sill, was another letter.
No wax seal this time. Just a folded sheet of paper, damp from the rain.
He brought it to the table and unfolded it slowly. The handwriting was rushed, urgent — the same as the first letter.
> You're looking in the wrong direction. The witness wasn't erased — she was hidden.
Her heart jolted. "She?"
The younger brother leaned closer. "It means she's alive."
"Maybe," the older one said cautiously. "Or someone wants us to think so."
She shook her head. "No. Look at the word — hidden. Not dead, not gone. Hidden."
There was a location scrawled at the bottom of the note. One word.
> Raventon.
Her eyes widened. "That's across the ridge. It's been abandoned for years."
"Which makes it the perfect place to hide someone," the younger brother said grimly.
The older one folded the note and pocketed it. "Then we go."
---
The drive to Raventon was long and silent. The road wound through the mountains, mist curling around the edges like smoke. The rain had thickened, blurring the world into shades of grey.
She sat in the backseat, watching the world pass by in fragments — trees, rivers, shadows. Each moment felt suspended, like they were moving not through space, but through time itself.
"Do you think she'll talk to us?" she asked softly.
"If she's still there," the older brother said, eyes fixed on the road, "she's been running from something for a long time. People like that don't just talk — they measure every word."
"And if she's not there?"
He didn't answer.
They reached the town by dusk. Or what was left of it. Raventon was little more than a cluster of ruined buildings, half-swallowed by moss and silence. The air smelled of damp earth and forgotten days.
They parked by the remains of an old church. Its bell tower leaned to one side, a relic of faith long abandoned.
"This is where the note leads," the younger one murmured, checking the map.
The doors creaked open with a sound like bones. Inside, the air was cold and heavy. Pews lay scattered, broken by time. Cobwebs clung to the corners.
And then — a sound.
A faint, rhythmic tapping.
They turned toward the altar. Behind it, a narrow staircase led down into darkness.
The older brother drew a breath. "Stay behind me."
They descended slowly, their footsteps echoing. The air grew colder, thicker.
At the bottom was a small room — stone walls, a single chair, and on it… a figure.
A woman.
Her hair was silvered, her posture frail, but her eyes — sharp, steady, knowing — met theirs as though she'd been waiting for them all along.
"You found me," she said quietly.
Her voice carried the weight of years.
"Are you the witness?" the older brother asked.
She smiled faintly. "That depends on who's asking."
He stepped closer. "We need to know what happened. Why your name was erased."
Her gaze drifted past him to the candle flickering in his hand. "Because I saw what I wasn't meant to. And because the man you seek… isn't the one you should fear."
The younger brother frowned. "What do you mean?"
She looked at them one by one, her eyes finally resting on the woman who had found her.
"You're not here by accident," the old woman said softly. "You've been part of this from the beginning. You just don't remember yet."
The words struck like lightning.
"What are you saying?" she whispered.
The old woman smiled — sad, tired, knowing. "That you were the first name they tried to erase."
The candle flickered violently, the flame nearly dying.
And in that moment of wavering light, she saw something in the old woman's face — a resemblance, faint but undeniable.
The same eyes.
The same quiet sorrow.
Before she could speak, the thunder outside roared — and the lights went out.
The next chapter will come after 1 month...