All Chapters of Another Chance : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

112 Chapters

Chapter Thirty-One

Rissa’s POVThe Gift Before the KnowingThe pendant cracked.And in that moment, just as the whisper faded from the room and the moonstone split open like a wound, I felt something slip beneath my skin.Not magic.Memory.A whisper of another time.The room around me dimmed, blurred at the edges, like I was looking at it through fogged glass. My knees buckled, but I didn’t fall. Not really. I was already falling inward.And just like that, I was there again.………………………………………………….Three Years AgoThe hospice smelled like lavender and antiseptic. Clean sheets. Dying breath. Quiet resignation.My mother lay in the small bed by the window, skin pale and paper-thin, eyes glassy but sharp in ways that still scared me. She never lost that edge. Not even when the cancer started to eat away at her voice, then her bones, then her magic.“Come closer,” she rasped. “I won’t say it twice.”I pulled the chair to her bedside, swallowing the knot in my throat. “You should rest.”Her laugh was dry and

Chapter Thirty-Two

Darkness Between UsRissa’s POVI didn’t sleep.Even after Mark checked the perimeter of the estate three times, he sat in the chair across from the bed like a silent, immovable mountain, watching over me with eyes that never blinked. I couldn’t close mine.My fingers kept tracing the crack in the pendant, like touching it could make it whole again. The jagged line down the center split more than just a stone. It split the last shred of protection I believed I had. My mother gave it to me. Told me it would keep me safe. But it broke… it broke the moment that voice found me.“Rissa,” Mark’s voice was low, quiet. “Try to sleep.”“I can’t,” I whispered. My throat was raw. My insides curled and coiled like snakes. “It’s still out there.”Mark didn’t argue. He didn’t give me empty reassurances either. I appreciated that. I didn’t want lies, I wanted answers. I wanted to understand what had just happened in the woods and why that presence had come for me.My fingers clenched the ruined pend

Chapter Thirty-Three

Fault LinesRissa’s POVMorning came like a bruise—slow, dull, and aching.I hadn’t slept. Again.Light filtered weakly through the curtains, casting pale streaks across the wooden floor. For a moment, I let myself believe everything from the night before had been a nightmare. But the pendant around my neck cold and cracked made sure I remembered.I sat up, spine tight, body heavier than it should’ve been. I didn’t feel rested. I felt hollowed out.A knock at the door startled me.Not Mark’s.“Come in,” I called, cautious.Eamon stepped inside.He looked... calm. But too calm, the kind that meant something was brewing under the surface.“You’re up,” he said.“Wasn’t really a choice.”He gave me a once-over. “You look like you’ve wrestled a demon and lost.”“Close,” I muttered.He raised an eyebrow but didn’t press. Instead, he leaned against the doorframe, arms folded.“Mark’s already out back. Looks like he’s expecting a fight. Or summoning one.”I stood and pulled a hoodie over my h

Chapter Thirty-Four

Deep QuestionsRissa’s POVThe garden had changed.Or maybe I had.I sat on the low stone bench nestled between the wisteria vines and wild roses that curled like quiet sentinels around the edge of the estate. The moonlight filtered through the branches, silvery and soft, pooling over the damp earth. I pulled the sleeves of my sweater over my hands, pressing my knuckles to my lips as if that could hold everything in.The wind shifted.Footsteps.I didn’t turn. Not at first. The cadence was too familiar—calm, measured, but with a purpose. Not Mark.“Rissa,” Eamon’s voice said gently. “May I?”I looked up to find him standing near the stone arch, his lean figure half-shadowed, dressed in dark slacks and a loose linen shirt. His auburn hair had grown slightly longer since I’d last seen him, brushing his jaw. A few days ago, I might’ve bristled. Now, I just nodded.“Sure,” I whispered.He sat beside me without another word. The silence stretched between us, not heavy, but questioning.“Yo

Chapter Thirty-Five

Mark’s POVTangled ThreadsRissa hadn’t said a word since we left the garden.She sat on the edge of the mattress, her back straight, her hands folded in her lap like she was trying to hold herself together. The dim light spilling in from the hall reached only half her face, leaving the rest in shadow. Even in the darkness, I could see the sharp set of her jaw. I couldn’t tell if it was defiance or if she was just holding something back.I stood by the door longer than I should have, not sure where I belonged in that moment. We hadn’t talked about what came next not about the threats outside the estate, not about the visions she’d been having, and certainly not about the space that had grown between us over the past few days.“You should rest,” I said finally. My voice came out quieter than I’d intended. “You’ve barely slept.”“I will,” she answered, still facing away.There was a measured distance in her tone. The kind that made it feel like we were strangers again, like we’d gone b

Chapter Thirty-Six

Rissa’s POVBetween WallsThe rain had eased sometime during the night, but I could still hear it dripping from the eaves when I woke. The sky outside my window was pale and washed out, the kind of morning that made you want to stay under the covers and pretend the world could wait.I sat up slowly, my muscles stiff from sleeping in one position too long. The mattress still held the faint warmth from where Mark had been earlier. I remembered the way he had stood behind me last night, the quiet in his voice when he promised he wouldn’t walk away. The memory steadied me, but it also left a knot in my chest.I dressed without hurry, pulling on the first sweater I found, the one with sleeves that hung past my wrists. The hallway was dim when I stepped out, lit only by the few candles the servants had set before dawn. My footsteps sounded too loud against the stone.Downstairs, the estate was already stirring. A few of the kitchen staff passed me with baskets of bread and crates of fruit,

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Rissa’s POVThe Echo in the WallsFrom my window, I could see the guard at the gate standing perfectly still. His hand rested on the strap of his gun, his gaze fixed on a patch of trees beyond the fence. I couldn’t tell what he saw, but his eyes stayed there long enough for me to feel uneasy.He finally spoke to the man beside him. I couldn’t hear what was said, but the second guard straightened sharply, scanning the same area before turning toward the main doors at a brisk pace.I stepped away from the glass, and that was when I heard it.The sound was faint, but it didn’t come from outside. It was inside my room.It was a scrape, slow and rough, like stone dragging against stone. It came from the wall near my desk, just behind where the journal sat. My pulse quickened. The estate was full of old corridors and bricked-over passages, but I had never heard movement from this side before.I crossed the room, my steps light, and placed a palm against the cold wall. The surface was still,

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Rissa’s POVThe Silence Between the QuestionsThe walk to the council room felt longer than it should. My boots made almost no sound against the carpet, but my thoughts refused to stay quiet. Every time I blinked, I saw those amber eyes in the torchlight. I saw the crack in the wall like it had been holding its breath for years, waiting for the moment it would split open.The council chamber wasn’t made for grandeur. It was a narrow room with a long table worn by years of elbows and ink stains, lit by a single chandelier. Only four people waited inside: three council members and the steward, Hale, standing at the head of the table. No scribes. No guards.Mark stepped in first and set the crowbar on the table. Eamon followed, dropping the scrap of parchment beside it. I stayed near the door. The spiral on the parchment still looked like it might start moving if you stared too long.Hale’s gaze shifted from the objects to Mark. “Report.”Mark’s voice was clipped as he gave the account—w

Chapter Thirty-Nine

The Locked DoorMark’s POVThe east wing was always too quiet.Not the kind of quiet you get when the house is asleep, but the kind that feels like the walls are listening. Even the air seemed to hold still, waiting.That night, the silence pressed down harder than usual. It wasn’t just in the halls it was in my chest, in my ears.Rissa stood beside me near the start of the long corridor, a lantern balanced in her hand. Its light cast a narrow pool over the wainscoting, and beyond that, the dark felt heavier than it should have. Farther down, the corners didn’t simply fade into shadow—they seemed to bend away, like the hall itself didn’t want us to see what was around them.Dust drifted in the air, slow and lazy until it crossed the lantern beam and flashed gold before disappearing again. The smell here was old—polished wood, cold candle wax—and under that, something sharper. Metal, maybe. Or rust.We’d been handed the watch just after midnight. No one had stepped forward to take it.

Chapter Forty

Shadows at DawnRissa’s POVThe east wing looked different in the daylight.Morning light stretched long across the floorboards, pale and cold. It should have felt like relief after the night we’d just had, but it didn’t. The brightness didn’t chase away the fear; it sharpened it. What had been hidden in shadow was now laid bare, but not in a way that soothed. If anything, it felt like the light had stripped the place of something, leaving it hollow.The corridor seemed emptier than it had hours before, as if the silence of the night had drained something from the walls. The portraits still hung in their gilded frames, but they looked flat, less alive than they had under the lantern glow. Their painted faces seemed tired, like they too had been forced to keep watch.The windows gave us a clean view of the gardens now. No black glass. No warped reflections. Roses bent in the breeze, dew catching the early light. By every measure of reason, it should have been ordinary. Safe.But none o

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