Chapter 8: The Chapel’s Truth

Rain pelted Ivy’s windshield as she drove through the winding, unlit roads just outside the city. The only thing guiding her was the blinking red dot on the map and the voice in her head saying: Come alone.

She had left Aiden a note on the kitchen counter, telling him not to follow. But she knew he would. Still, if there was even a small chance of getting answers tonight—answers that would free her from the nightmare she was now entangled in—she had to take it.

The old chapel stood at the edge of a forgotten graveyard, its crooked steeple like a finger pointing toward the stormy sky. Vines crawled along the stone walls, and the windows were thick with grime and shadow. Ivy parked her car, grabbed her phone and flashlight, and stepped out into the downpour.

Her shoes squished through the mud as she approached the heavy oak door. It creaked open with a reluctant groan.

Inside, the air was damp and cold, and the only light came from flickering candles placed in a half-circle at the altar. The smell of wax and mildew was overwhelming. The pews were empty, the silence thunderous.

Then a voice echoed through the space.

“You came.”

Ivy turned toward the sound, her heart pounding.

A hooded figure stepped from behind the altar, their face obscured by shadows.

“I need answers,” she said. “You sent the messages?”

The figure nodded once. “And I’m the only one who will tell you the truth before they try to bury it for good.”

Ivy took a cautious step forward. “Who are you?”

The figure reached up and pulled back the hood.

A woman. Late forties, maybe early fifties. Faded red hair, sharp green eyes—and a crescent moon tattoo at her collarbone.

Ivy’s breath caught. “Who… who are you?”

“My name is Celeste,” the woman said softly. “And once, a long time ago… I was in your position.”

“What do you mean?”

Celeste held up the silver bracelet—the bracelet.

“I was Evelyn King’s best friend. And the only one who knew the truth about her children. All of them.”

Ivy’s voice shook. “All of them?”

Celeste nodded. “Aiden and Ethan weren’t the only twins born that year. There was a third child. A girl.”

Ivy felt the ground tilt beneath her. “What?”

“The Kings had a sister,” Celeste continued. “She was hidden. Smuggled out of the hospital the night Evelyn gave birth. They feared a prophecy. One that spoke of a child born under the moon’s mark who would unravel the empire the Kings built. The girl was a threat. So, she was erased.”

Ivy could barely breathe. “Why are you telling me this?”

Celeste stepped closer, her voice trembling. “Because you’re her daughter.”

Silence. Complete, paralyzing silence.

Ivy’s heart stopped.

“No,” she whispered.

Celeste reached into her coat and pulled out a worn envelope. Inside was a birth certificate—her mother’s name wasn’t listed as Evelyn King.

It was Lilith Keller.

Her mother had been the erased King.

“You were never meant to be part of their story,” Celeste said. “But fate pulled you back. And now, the child you carry… it fulfills the prophecy.”

Ivy stumbled back, clutching a pew for balance. “This isn’t possible. I’m just—”

“An heir to a throne built on lies,” Celeste finished. “And so is your baby.”

Before Ivy could respond, a sharp crack split the silence.

Gunshot.

Glass shattered.

Celeste screamed and dropped behind the altar as Ivy ducked instinctively.

More shots. Heavy footsteps approaching.

“They found us,” Celeste hissed, grabbing Ivy’s arm. “We have to go.”

They raced through a side exit, the rain now a downpour. Celeste shoved Ivy toward a narrow trail in the woods behind the chapel.

“Run! Don’t stop—”

Another gunshot.

Ivy looked back—Celeste clutched her side, blood soaking through her coat.

“No!” Ivy cried, running back.

Celeste pushed her away. “GO!”

Ivy turned and fled, her legs trembling, tears mixing with the rain. Branches tore at her clothes, and mud splattered up her legs as she ran deeper into the woods.

Another shot rang out—closer this time.

She didn’t know who was after her. Ethan? The King family’s men? Someone else entirely?

But she knew one thing: if they caught her now, neither she nor her child would survive the night.

Finally, she saw lights in the distance. A road.

She sprinted toward it—just as headlights blinded her.

A car screeched to a halt.

Aiden jumped out. “Ivy!”

She collapsed into his arms, sobbing. “We have to leave. Now.”

“What happened? Who—”

“They shot her. They killed Celeste.”

Aiden’s eyes widened. “Celeste? From the foundation?”

Ivy froze. “You knew her?”

“She worked with my mother—before she disappeared. I thought she was dead.”

“No,” Ivy whispered. “She found me. Told me everything.”

“Everything?” Aiden echoed.

Ivy met his eyes.

“I’m not who you think I am. And neither is our baby.”

Before he could respond, Ivy’s phone buzzed again.

A new message.

“Celeste was only the beginning. You’re next.”