The cottage felt… alive.
Anne stepped back into the room with Zahir, her heart heavy but resolute. The walls pulsed faintly, the fireplace crackled with unnatural warmth, and the air shimmered like it was holding its breath.
Zahir narrowed his eyes. "It wasn't like this before."
Anne nodded. "It feels like it's waiting."
They walked toward the hearth, where Mrs. Hodgins sat in her rocking chair, her fingers steepled, her eyes gleaming.
"Well," she said, voice smooth as silk. "I hope you have your answer now."
Anne hesitated.
Zahir glanced at her.
And then, softly, Anne said, "No."
The room reacted instantly.
The flames roared. The walls groaned. The floor trembled.
Mrs. Hodgins stood abruptly, her chair skidding back.
She began pacing, her steps sharp, erratic.
"This is why I don't like humans," she muttered. "Always so sentimental. So fragile. So stupid."
Zahir stepped in front of Anne. "We need to move. Now."
Anne tried to step back—but her feet wouldn't budge.
The air thickened.
Mrs. Hodgins stopped pacing.
She turned, a smirk curling on her lips. "I kinda knew there'd be problems."
She raised her hands.
The room responded.
Energy surged from the walls—golden, violent, alive. It twisted toward Anne like vines of light.
Zahir moved fast, shielding her. "Make a wish," he shouted. "A strong one!"
Anne opened her mouth—
But blood splattered across her face.
Zahir gasped, stumbling.
A jagged shard of energy had pierced his side.
"No!" Anne cried.
Zahir collapsed, clutching his wound. "I'm fine," he lied.
Anne tried to reach him—but she was frozen. Her body locked in place by the room's magic.
Zahir raised a trembling hand. "Lamp… come to me…"
A golden glow flickered in the air.
But it was too late.
Mrs. Hodgins laughed. "Calling your lamp? Oh, sweetheart. That's exactly what I wanted."
Zahir's eyes widened. "No…"
The lamp pulsed once—and vanished.
Mrs. Hodgins raised her arms.
Anne levitated.
Her body lifted off the ground, suspended in the air like a marionette.
"No!" Zahir shouted.
Mrs. Hodgins whispered something ancient.
And then—
She threw Anne into the pit.
Dark. Endless. Cold.
Anne fell.
Her body limp.
Her mind fading.
Silence.
Anne lay unconscious, her hair splayed across the stone floor, her fingers curled.
A single tear slid down her cheek.
And then—
A soft voice.
A child's voice.
"Are you okay?"
Anne didn't stir.
Beside her stood a little girl.
Barefoot. Pale. Eyes wide.
She knelt beside Anne and whispered, "You're not supposed to be here yet."
The darkness pulsed.
And the girl smiled.
TO BE CONTINUED...