The path descending toward the cemetery was narrow enough to force the two men to walk almost side by side. The buildings of Velen gradually fell behind them, replaced by low stone walls, ancient trees, and small plots of land that seemed to have been abandoned for years. The sounds of the village reached them only as a distant murmur, muffled by the vegetation and the distance.
Aken walked a few steps ahead.
Since leaving the square, he had been unable to get the image of the girl out of his mind. The light blue dress, the blonde hair, and the way she had remained motionless while pointing toward the cemetery. She had not seemed to be trying to attract anyone else's attention. If the two of them had not looked in the same direction, they might never have known she had been there.
Clark broke the silence.
"Do you think she's trying to lead us to the crypt?"
Aken kept his eyes on the path.
"That's what it looks like."
"And what if she's not?"
"Then we'll find out when we get there."
Clark let out a sigh.
"Sometimes, I get the impression that you don't understand the concept of a conversation."
"I do."
"And yet you still answer like that."
"You asked if I thought she was leading us to the crypt. I answered."
Clark looked at him for a few moments but eventually gave up.
"I miss the days when people would simply give me bad answers without making me feel like I was wasting their time."
Aken cast a quick glance in his direction.
"Maybe the problem is the quality of your questions."
"Of course. It's never my fault."
"Finally, we agree on something."
Clark shook his head, although a small smile appeared on his face.
The conversation died shortly afterward.
The cemetery appeared at the bottom of the slope, surrounded by an irregular stone wall covered in moss. The main entrance stood between two ancient pillars, on which fragments of sculptures worn down by the rain still remained. An iron gate stood open, attached to one side, and the path crossing the grounds disappeared between rows of tombstones.
The newer section of the cemetery lay near the entrance. The gravestones were arranged in neat rows, many adorned with flowers that still looked fresh. Some people had visited that morning, leaving small containers of water and candles beside the graves.
Farther ahead, however, the appearance of the place changed.
The gravestones became older and more irregular. Some leaned to one side, while others had broken apart, leaving only fragments of stone covered in inscriptions that were almost impossible to read. Trees grew between the graves, their roots lifting sections of the ground and pushing stones out of the earth.
Aken slowed his pace.
There was no one in that part of the cemetery.
Clark glanced over the graves before looking at the structure rising in the distance.
"I imagine it's difficult to keep all this in order."
"It doesn't look like anyone has tried recently."
"Perhaps there aren't many people interested in visiting the dead from three hundred years ago."
Aken did not answer.
His eyes were fixed on the structure.
The crypt stood a little apart from the other graves, partially hidden behind two trees whose branches stretched over its roof. It was made of dark stone, with a simple facade and a narrow entrance. Time had worn down the reliefs decorating the upper section, but the crest of a family could still be distinguished, carved above the door.
The same crest that appeared in some of the documents from Vane Manor.
Aken approached slowly.
The entrance was partially blocked by stones and pieces of wood. It did not look as though it had been sealed through careful work. There were signs of deterioration along the sides, and part of the upper arch had cracks running across the wall.
Clark examined the structure.
"Edric wasn't exaggerating. This could collapse."
Aken crouched near the entrance.
Some of the stones blocking the passage had been displaced. It was impossible to tell when that had happened just by looking at them, but the ground in front of the opening bore marks that did not match the rest of the terrain.
He brushed a damp leaf aside with the tip of his boot.
There was a mark in the mud.
Then another.
Clark stepped closer.
"Footprints?"
"Some."
Aken examined the ground for a few more seconds.
The marks had been partially washed away by the moisture, but it was possible to tell that someone had passed through there. The nearby vegetation also showed small breaks, as though it had been pushed aside to clear a path to the entrance.
"Someone's been here recently," Clark said.
"Yes."
"It could have been Vanessa."
Aken studied the entrance.
The stones had not been placed to seal the passage completely. Someone could have entered and left without having to remove much material, although the opening was narrow enough to require care.
He stood up.
"Let's take a look inside."
Clark examined the upper arch once more.
"If this comes down on top of us, I hope you have a better idea than simply pushing the stones back into place."
"I'll try to think of something."
"That makes me feel better."
Aken removed one of the smaller stones blocking the passage and placed it beside the entrance. Clark helped him move a piece of wood, creating enough room for both of them to enter without touching the more fragile parts of the structure.
The interior was dark.
Clark lit his lantern and passed through the opening first, keeping the light directed toward the floor. Aken followed close behind, taking care not to put his weight on any loose stones.
The air changed immediately.
It was colder inside, heavy with the smell of damp earth, dust, and ancient stone. The lantern light revealed a narrow corridor whose walls were covered in dark stains left by water seepage. Small roots had found their way through the cracks in the ceiling, hanging down until they nearly touched the floor.
Their footsteps sounded louder than they should have.
Aken glanced back one last time, making sure the entrance remained visible. Then he turned his attention to the corridor.
Funerary niches lined both sides, some sealed with stone slabs, others partially exposed by deterioration. The inscriptions were so worn that only a few names remained legible. In certain places, small religious sculptures were still attached to the walls, their faces erased by time.
Clark brought the lantern closer to one of the slabs.
"The Vane family must have buried generations here."
Aken examined the inscription.
"Perhaps more than that."
"What makes you think so?"
"The crest appears on more than one niche."
Clark illuminated the next section of the wall.
Aken was right. The same symbol had been carved above several of the slabs, although some belonged to people whose names had almost completely disappeared.
"So the crypt wasn't just for the dukes," Clark remarked. "Perhaps the entire family was buried here."
"Or those important enough to deserve it."
Clark looked at him.
"You always manage to find a way to make things more unpleasant."
Aken continued walking.
The corridor ended at a wider opening, beyond which lay a main chamber. The passage was partially obstructed by a piece of stone that had fallen from the ceiling, but there was still enough room to get through.
Aken stopped before crossing.
There was something on the floor.
The lantern light illuminated a series of marks in the dust. They were not complete footprints, but irregular traces that crossed the passage and continued into the chamber. In some places, the layer of dust had been removed, exposing the stone beneath.
Aken crouched down.
"This isn't old."
Clark brought the light closer.
"Are you sure?"
Aken studied the marks.
"I can't tell when it happened. But someone was here after the dust settled."
Clark glanced back down the corridor behind them.
"Then perhaps that person is still nearby."
Aken slowly stood up.
Neither of them spoke for several seconds.
The silence inside the crypt seemed different now. Until that moment, the place had been nothing more than an ancient, abandoned, deteriorating structure. The marks on the floor, however, indicated that someone had entered recently. Perhaps that very night. Perhaps earlier.
And if Vanessa had truly come to the crypt on the day she disappeared, there was no way to know what might have happened afterward.
Clark raised the lantern.
"Let's go."
Aken crossed the opening first.
The main chamber was larger than the corridor had suggested. The ceiling rose several meters above them, supported by stone columns whose bases were covered in moss. In the center stood a low structure that appeared to have served as a funerary altar, surrounded by small iron stands and the remains of old candles.
The walls contained more niches, some decorated with reliefs depicting hooded figures with their hands raised before circular symbols.
Aken did not recognize those figures.
He also disliked the way the symbols kept repeating.
Clark swept the lantern across the chamber, illuminating every corner before approaching the altar.
"Doesn't look like there's much here."
Aken did not answer.
He was looking at the other side of the room.
There was a rope.
It descended from the ceiling, passing in front of one of the columns, and ended at a dark shape that remained partially hidden behind the central structure.
Aken froze.
For a few seconds, he could not make out every detail. The light reached the floor, but the body remained in an area where the shadows blended into the darkness of the wall.
Clark noticed that he had stopped.
"What is it?"
Aken slowly raised his hand, pointing in that direction.
Clark turned the lantern.
The beam of light crossed the chamber and reached the suspended figure.
A corpse.
The body hung from a rope fastened to a ceiling beam, its neck enclosed by the noose. Its feet hovered just above the ground, and its arms hung at its sides. The clothes, once elegant, were covered in dust and stains left by the moisture. The fabric had lost much of its color, making it difficult to distinguish the details of the garments.
The head hung slightly forward.
There was no movement at all.
For a moment, Clark seemed to forget that he was holding the lantern.
The light remained fixed on the body, revealing the folds of the fabric and the tiny particles of dust floating in the air.
"What the hell..." he murmured.
Aken did not answer.
He continued observing.
The rope looked much newer than the rest of the structure. Its fibers showed none of the wear found on the roots and materials scattered across the floor. The beam supporting it also bore fresh marks, as though someone had needed to clear part of the wood to secure the knot.
Aken shifted his gaze to the floor.
There were no clear signs that the body had been placed there merely to conceal a death. Its position, the rope, and the absence of other objects nearby made it difficult to understand what had happened.
He took a step forward.
Clark grabbed his arm.
"Wait."
Aken looked at him.
Clark kept his eyes on the corpse.
"We don't know what happened here."
"That's why we need to look."
"We can look without touching anything."
Aken nodded.
Clark released his arm.
They approached slowly, keeping the light directed toward the body and the floor around it. With each step, the details became clearer. The corpse appeared to have been there for quite some time. Moisture had affected the clothes, and parts of the fabric were coming apart at the edges. It was impossible to determine the person's age from their appearance alone, but the deterioration indicated that the death had not occurred that night.
Aken stopped a few steps away from the body.
The first thing that caught his attention was the clothing.
Despite its condition, the cut did not look like something worn by someone who worked in the region. There were delicate details along the sleeves and collar, designed to be seen up close, and a small embroidered pattern remained partially preserved near the shoulder.
Clark brought the lantern closer.
"These aren't a servant's clothes."
Aken examined the embroidery.
The symbol was incomplete, hidden beneath a layer of dust, but its shape still seemed familiar.
"No," he replied. "They aren't."
Clark moved the light over the rest of the body.
That was when he noticed a small object attached to the clothing near the waist. It looked like an old brooch, darkened by time, with a blue stone at its center.
Clark's expression changed.
He brought the lantern closer, taking care not to touch the corpse.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Aken looked at him.
"What is it?"
Clark did not answer immediately. He continued staring at the object, as though trying to find an explanation that would not force him to accept what he was beginning to suspect.
"The duke mentioned this," he finally said.
Aken turned his eyes toward the brooch.
"Are you sure?"
"Not completely."
Clark swallowed and took half a step back.
"But he described a similar piece when we spoke to the family. He said Vanessa used to wear a brooch that had belonged to her mother."
The silence seemed to stretch through the chamber.
Aken looked at the body again.
The light blue dress the girl had worn in the square returned to his memory. Then the apparition at the manor, the way she had disappeared through the wall, and the way she had pointed toward the cemetery.
All of it could still have different explanations. The brooch might have belonged to someone else. The body might have been that of a distant relative, someone who had also been buried in the crypt.
But the possibilities were beginning to narrow.
Aken took another step closer.
"We need to confirm her identity."
Clark nodded, although he seemed reluctant to accept the task.
"Yes."
Neither of them moved immediately.
Aken returned his attention to the corpse, searching for other details that might help them. The clothes, the approximate height, the objects attached to the body. Each element added a small piece to the picture taking shape in his mind, but none was enough to turn suspicion into certainty.
Even so, something about that chamber made it difficult to believe they had arrived there by chance.
Aken looked at the rope.
Then at the entrance to the crypt.
The girl had led them to that place.
There was no way to know whether the spirit understood what it was doing, whether it remembered its own death, or whether it was simply repeating a gesture it had made while still alive. But for the first time, Aken seriously considered the possibility that the apparition had not been trying to show them where Vanessa had been.
Perhaps she had been trying to show them what remained of her.
Clark lowered the lantern for a moment, illuminating the floor between them.
"If it's her..."
He did not finish the sentence.
Aken did not ask him to continue.
They both knew what finding Vanessa in that crypt would mean. The investigation would no longer be a search for a missing young woman. It would become a murder investigation. And if the corpse had been there since the day she disappeared, someone had spent three weeks allowing the duke, his wife, and the rest of the family to believe there was still a chance of finding her alive.
Aken looked at the suspended body again.
"We need to find out how long it's been here."
Clark raised his eyes.
"And who put her here."
Aken nodded.
For a few seconds, they remained motionless, listening only to the faint sound of water trickling through a crack in the ceiling and dripping onto the stone.
Then Clark raised the lantern again.
The light swept across the wall behind the corpse, revealing an inscription partially concealed by shadow. Aken still could not read the words, but he recognized the symbol carved at the center.
It was the same design he had seen in the old book at the church.
Aken stared at it.
Finding the body was already enough to change everything they knew about Vanessa. But that symbol suggested the crypt held a story that had begun long before the young woman's disappearance.
And perhaps that was precisely why someone had chosen that place to hide her.