All Chapters of The Echoes we Bury: Chapter 31 - Chapter 35

The room still felt wrong. Even though the illusion had shattered, the weight of it lingered. The air was too thick, pressing against Isla’s skin like invisible hands trying to pull her back under. The scent of lavender was gone, replaced by something old and damp, but she could still taste it at the back of her throat.She had fallen to the floor when the illusion broke, her body shaking with the force of it. Now she was still, her breathing ragged but slowing, her hands splayed against the cold wooden floor.Elliot waited. He didn’t speak, didn’t move, didn’t push. He had learned that this was the hardest part the moment after, when the truth settled in and the mind tried to make sense of what it had just been forced to face.Finally, Isla exhaled. It wasn’t a sigh of relief. It was something else. Something hollow.“I remember,” she said. Her voice was raw, barely above a whisper.Elliot nodded, staying crouched beside her. “Tell me.”She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, her fi

Ethan sat by the fire, his hands still gripping the damp letter like it could anchor him to something solid. His breathing had slowed, but his eyes darted around the room, flicking to every shadow, every flickering candle. He wasn’t just cold he was aware.The house had taken hold.It always started like this. A creeping, crawling unease. A presence pressing just beyond the edges of awareness. The mind searching for a way to rationalize what it already knew, but wouldn’t yet accept.Elliot had seen it before.He leaned against the fireplace, arms crossed. Isla hovered near the door, her expression unreadable. She hadn’t said much since Ethan arrived. She was still shaken from her own encounter, still processing the weight of her memories clawing their way back to the surface.Ethan was next.The house would dig into him, same as it had with her. Same as it had with Elliot.The only question wasHow long would it take before Ethan stopped fighting?And how much would the house take bef

Ethan couldn’t breathe.The room was spinning, the walls stretching and closing in at the same time. The shadows near the closet deepened, curling at the edges like ink bleeding into paper. The hand reaching through the gap trembled slightly, fingers flexing, waiting.Tyler.The name burned in Ethan’s chest, scraping against ribs that felt too tight, lungs that wouldn’t expand properly.This wasn’t real.It couldn’t be real.But he couldn’t look away.The hand moved again.“Why did you leave me?”The voice his brother’s voice was so soft, so broken, that Ethan felt something splinter inside him.He staggered forward before he could stop himself, his breath coming in quick, shallow bursts.“I didn’t,” he rasped. “I”But the words caught in his throat.Because he had.A memory surfaced, sharp and raw.Ethan was eleven. Tyler was seven. The storm had knocked out the power, plunging their small house into darkness. Their father had already disappeared for the night, leaving them alone.“S