The morning sun never reached the attic.
Even when the rest of the house gleamed in soft gold, the attic stayed wrapped in cold shadows—as if it remembered a time that refused to pass.
Rael stood frozen at the base of the stairs, staring up toward where he had seen her.
Elira.
Not a photo.
Not a memory.
A presence.
He climbed each step slowly, every creak beneath his foot echoing through his bones. The attic door, once rusted and reluctant, now sat open—inviting.
The photograph lay where he left it. But something was different.
There was a rose beneath it.
Fresh. Crimson. As if plucked moments ago.
Rael crouched, breath unsteady, and picked it up. A small paper note had been tied to the stem with a piece of golden ribbon.
In faded ink:
"To the one who listens."
His chest tightened.
He wasn't alone here.
He was never alone.
That evening, the wind howled louder than usual. The old piano in the music room played a single key on its own—soft, sorrowful.
Rael returned to the diary.
May 6th, 1878
He is closer now. I feel him in my skin, in the way the candle flickers when I sing. The dreams are no longer dreams. He stands by my bed, eyes full of storms and sadness. I want to ask his name, but my voice disappears when I try.
A knock shattered the silence.
Rael spun.
No one was there.
But on the wall behind him, something had appeared. Dust brushed aside. Words written by an invisible hand:
"You found me."
Rael's heart raced. His eyes watered. "Elira… is that really you?"
The wind outside died. The house stilled. And then…
A soft hum filled the air.
The same melody from the tape. But this time, not from the machine.
It was being sung—live.
He followed the sound. Up the stairs. Down a long hallway. Past sealed doors and forgotten portraits.
And finally… into her room.
He had never entered it before.
Dust danced in beams of moonlight. Her dresses still hung in the corner. A cracked mirror reflected the hollow of time. And on the bed…
A book. Thick. Leather-bound.
Not a diary—a journal of secrets. With a lock sealed by a strange emblem he had never seen.
But something pulled him closer.
As he reached out, the air grew heavier.
And then, a voice.
Clear. Painful. Like glass breaking in the heart.
"He lied to me…"
Rael froze.
He turned slowly.
In the mirror…
He saw her reflection.
Elira.
Wearing white. Eyes full of unshed tears.
She stood behind him—but when he turned, no one was there.
Only the whisper of her voice, as fragile as a dream:
"Don't trust the story they told… Find me, Rael. Find how I died."