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As they made their way to the door, Layla caught a glimpse of her own reflection in the rain-streaked window. With every gust of wind, she could feel the power within her stirring, ready to bring forth more visions of the future. But for now, she needed to stay grounded in the present, to help unravel the dark secrets of the past. And as she took a deep breath and stepped out into the storm, she couldn’t help but feel that the winds of change were propelling them all forward—toward a destiny none of them could have ever foreseen.
Chapter Thirteen
The wind whipped aroundLayla, carrying whispers of the past with it. The old, abandoned house stood before her like a ghostly sentinel, its weathered wood groaning under the weight of secrets long buried.
“Are you sure this is the place?” Jake asked, his firefighter’s instinct urging caution as they approached the crumbling structure.
Layla nodded, her eyes fixed on the house. “This is where the vision led us,” she replied, her voice soft but resolute. “We need to find out what happened here.”
As they stepped over the threshold, a shiver ran down Layla’s spine. She could sense the presence of spirits lingering in the shadows, their stories waiting to be told.
“Be careful,” Fiona warned, her hand resting protectively on her still unnoticeable baby bump. Her ability to see and talk to ghosts had proven invaluable in their previous adventures, but the pregnant woman’s concern was palpable.
“Stay close, Bella,” Max instructed, his sheriff’s badge glinting in the weak sunlight that filtered through the broken windows. Like his wife, he was no stranger to the supernatural; but even his experience couldn’t prepare him for what awaited them inside the house.
“Leave it to me,” Bella whispered, her fingers tracing a crescent moon symbol on her palm as she summoned her powers over the moon to guide them safely through the darkness.
As they ventured deeper into the house, Layla’s senses were bombarded by the echoes of lives long lost. She could feel the pain and betrayal of the women who had fallen prey to the ghostly seducer and his murderous wife.
“Wait,” Layla murmured, stopping abruptly in front of a dusty, cobweb-covered chest. She knelt down, her fingers running gently over the worn surface as a vision began to take shape in her mind.
“What is it?” Jake asked, worry etched on his face as he watched her.
“Something important,” Layla whispered, her eyes distant as she carefully opened the chest. Inside, among the faded trinkets and dusty books, lay an old locket with a delicate etching of a woman’s face on its cover.
“Who is she?” Fiona asked, her own ghostly senses tingling as Layla held the locket in her trembling hand.
“I’m not sure,” Layla replied, her voice barely audible. “But I think this belonged to the wife—the one who killed those women.”
They exchanged concerned glances, aware of the weight this discovery carried. As the wind blew through the broken windowpanes, Layla closed her eyes and listened to the whispers carried on the breeze. In that moment, she knew they had found a key piece of the puzzle – but there were still many secrets left to uncover.
The wind blew from the north once more, and she braced herself for the vision it would bring. Her heart pounded, a syncopated rhythm in her chest, as the whispers of the past weaved around her like a veil.
“Charles...Clarissa...” Layla breathed their names, seeing the ghosts before her —bound to one another in life and now, in death. “Bound by love, bound by blood. Only through a union of souls can the darkness be undone.” The phrase under the portrait of the couple kept springing to her mind.
“Union of souls?” Jake asked, his voice low and uncertain. Max and Fiona exchanged glances, concern etching lines into their faces.
