All Chapters of The Echoes we Bury: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

The dawn crept into Wintercroft Hall like a timid visitor, its pale light filtering through the cracked windows and casting long shadows across the dusty floors. Elliot sat in the study, his hands resting on the edge of the desk, his thoughts heavy with the weight of his decision.The house felt… quieter now, though its presence lingered, a low hum in the back of his mind. The shadows no longer seemed hostile, but they still moved, curling at the edges of his vision, reminding him of the unbroken cycle he was now a part of.His chest ached with the finality of his choice, but there was no room for regret. The house had released the others—Emma, Liam, Vivienne. It had let them go, and he had made sure no one else would be trapped here in their place.At least, not yet.The silence was broken by the faint sound of footsteps in the hallway. Elliot tensed, his heart quickening. He stood, grabbing the flashlight from the desk, though the sunlight streaming into the room made it unnecessary

Peter sat on the edge of the grand staircase, his head in his hands. The faint light of the rising sun cast muted shadows across the hall, but the warmth of the day outside seemed unreachable within Wintercroft Hall. The house’s cold presence still lingered, though its intensity had lessened since Peter had emerged from the room.Elliot leaned against the banister, watching Peter carefully. He recognized the weight in the man’s slumped shoulders, the rawness in his trembling hands. It was the same burden Elliot had carried not long ago, before he had chosen to stay.“How do you feel?” Elliot asked, his voice quiet but steady.Peter looked up at him, his eyes hollow. “Like I’ve been ripped apart.” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “It showed me things I never wanted to see again. Things I’ve spent years trying to forget.”“And now?”Peter stared at the floor, his expression pained. “Now, I can’t unsee them.”The house groaned softly, a low, unsettling sound that seemed to vibrate t

The house was never truly quiet. It breathed in the walls, sighed in the floorboards, whispered in the stillness between dusk and dawn. Elliot had learned to recognize the patterns the restless stirrings of Wintercroft Hall when it was waiting for something. Or someone.Tonight, the air was heavy, humming with quiet anticipation. Elliot felt it in his bones before he even heard the sound. The slow creak of the front door. The house was waking up again.He stood in the foyer, staring at the heavy doors, knowing what came next. It always started the same way. A hesitant knock. A moment of silence. Then the inevitable step over the threshold. The house never forced its guests inside. It didn’t need to. It called to them, and they always came.Then, right on cue three sharp knocks.Elliot exhaled slowly, steadying himself. He had been on the other side of that door once. Now, it was his turn to open it.The candlelight flickered as he pulled the door open, revealing the newest arrival to

The hall stretched ahead of them, narrowing as the candlelight flickered in the restless air. Isla walked slightly behind Elliot, her arms folded tight across her chest, her fingers digging into the fabric of her jacket. The whisper Welcome home still echoed in her mind. It had been soft, almost gentle, but there was something suffocating about it, something that curled into her thoughts and wouldn’t let go.Elliot didn’t seem rattled. If anything, he looked resigned, like he had walked this same path too many times before. He moved with purpose, each step measured, as if he knew exactly where he was going.“Where are we headed?” Isla asked, trying to keep her voice steady.“The house will decide,” Elliot said.She let out a short, humorless laugh. “Right. Of course. Because that makes sense.”Elliot ignored her sarcasm and continued walking. The walls pressed in as they moved deeper into the east wing, the corridor narrowing just slightly, as if shifting around them. Isla swore the p

Elliot pressed his palm against the door. It was cold, colder than it should have been, like the wood itself was leeching the warmth from his skin. The whispers in the walls had changed. They weren’t just shifting anymore they were shaping, curling around Isla like smoke, coaxing her deeper.He had seen this before.The house wasn’t just showing her memories. It was rewriting them.Inside, Isla was silent. Too silent.Elliot’s stomach tightened. He knocked once, his voice low but firm. “Isla.”No answer.He knocked again. “Isla, talk to me.”Nothing.Elliot’s fingers twitched at his side. The house wasn’t done with her yet, but if she wasn’t responding, that meant it was pulling her in faster than it should. And that was dangerous.He took a slow breath, pressing his forehead briefly against the wood. “Damn it.”Then he did something he wasn’t sure he should.He turned the handle and pushed the door open.Inside, the warmth hit him first.The room had changed completely. It was no lon