“What’s happening here?” I say, reaching out with my left hand as I walk forward from the circle. Despite having my eyes closed, I can see where I’m walking as clearly as if they were open. When I reach the wall, I place my hands on the stones, unable to pick up on any energies at all from them.
“Speak your truths,” Abigail urges.
“There’s—” I begin, unable to form words with the level of insights coming at me. Despite having no immediate energy signature, there is still a web of magic that blankets the wall. I inhale sharply, realizing what it is I’m sensing.“There’s something behind this wall.”
“Indeed…there is.”
Chapter 18
A Wellspring Of Veneration
Surprised by the revelation, I open my eyes, and turn around to face Abigail. Only, she’s gone.
“Abigail?” I call out, stumbling back from the wall. My voice echoes off of the stones and even without using my extra senses, I can tell she’s not here anymore.
Sighing to myself, I return my attention to the wall. I run my fingertips over the stones, trying to understand what makes them so different. In this low light, they look exactly the same as any other stone here. The shapes, textures, and colors are all the same.
An intense reaction settles in the pit of my stomach. It’s like a strange form of déjà vu. Only instead of settling in my head, it’s like a punch in the gut.
There’s something so familiar about all of this, but I can’t put my finger on why.
Overcome with the sudden urge to see what’s on the other side, I claw at the stones, trying to find one that’s loose enough to pull it free. It only takes one to give way and the whole thing starts to crumble under my touch. I pull the stones free, listening to them pepper the ground, as I let them drop unceremoniously to the dirt floor.
When I’ve yanked enough of them to create a small opening, I bend down to get a better view. Ice-cold air rushes at me and I take a small step back, shuddering uncontrollably. Then, I hunch down to peer inside again. It’s hard to see anything. Beyond the edges of the hole, it’s pitch black. In fact, it’s the kind of darkness you only see when you close your eyes—or when you’re underground.
I close my eyes and call out, “Abigail? A little help here?”
My heart thumps unevenly in my chest as I wait for a response. When nothing happens, I stand back up, chewing on my lower lip.
Do I go in? What was the point of showing me this and vanishing? Is it a test?
“Dammit,” I curse under my breath.
Pulling out my cell phone from my pocket, I tap the screen to pull up the flashlight. There are fifteen texts and two missed calls from Wade, but I swipe them away. Curiosity is getting the better of me and I have to know what’s going on now. I’ll call him back as soon as I see what’s on the other side of this wall.
Pressing the flashlight icon, the bright LED light erupts from the other side of my phone. Bending in again, I position the light so it pierces the darkness beyond. At first, not much is visible as the light expands into the emptiness.
A knowing washes over me and I realize if this is a test, I’ll have to do it with these new abilities. At least, that’s what makes the most sense.
Lowering my eyebrows, I shut off the flashlight, then put my phone back in my pocket. Closing my eyes, I settle into the new sight I’d been practicing with Abigail. However, I find that connecting with the stillness is more difficult now without her guidance. With the exception of the rush of cool air, the energy beyond the opening is completely still. There’s almost an undercurrent of reverence that I can’t quite put my finger on.
Interestingly, it only makes me want to see what’s inside even more.
Trembling slightly, I pull a few more stones free, so there’s enough room for me to step through. When the opening is big enough, I hold onto the stones around the edge. Then, I plant one foot on the other side of the wall, and crouch down, leaving the resurrection chamber to enter the other side.
As if walking through an energetic waterfall, my body vibrates from head to toe. In a weird way, it feels like it’s simultaneously grounded and floating. Even though that makes absolutely no sense. The energy then settles into a quaking sensation in the pit of my stomach. When I’m fully rooted on the other side, the chill air subsides, giving way to more stillness.
Exhaling slowly, I close my eyes.
Come on, Autumn. What do you see?
Unable to stop my core from shaking, I deliberately take three deep, cleansing breaths to center myself. The inhalations do exactly as I’d hoped and my shoulders relax.
Settling into the stillness, I perk my ears, trying to pick up on any sounds inside this new chamber. When nothing is evident, I relax a bit more, feeling safer in the space. Almost instantly, I sink into the calmness and serenity reverberating around me—then past it into the next level. The vibrant colors erupt behind my closed lids. Without seeing the space in any form of light, I can tell this section is not another room. Instead, it’s a wide tunnel. Which must have been why it was hard to see anything with the flashlight.
Feeling braver, I take a few steps forward. The ground beneath my feet feels like it’s made up of the same sand as the resurrection chamber, but it’s smoother somehow; not nearly as worn. My feet practically carry themselves as I go farther. Relying only on this sight, I continue to walk ahead, a few feet at a time, until the tunnel reaches an abrupt end.
Fighting the desire to open my eyes and turn on the flashlight, I settle into the peace of the space, trying to understand it. I can’t put my finger on why, but there’s something utterly beautiful in the undercurrent of this tunnel. I practically hear music in the upper vibrations.
When I reach the end, I stop to take in as much information as these new senses can gather. The tunnel’s end is a large stone archway and from what my mind’s eye can see, there are ancient symbols—or perhaps ancient writing—that decorates the sides and across the lintel. They glow bright white, with a soft, almost mystical tint of purple that flickers like smoke around their edges.
I move closer, trying to get a better view of them.
Suddenly, the hairs on the back of my neck and arms prick up, and my body stiffens. I get the distinct impression I’m being watched.
“Abigail?” I call out, my voice quivering.
Stumbling backward from the archway, my enhanced vision drops, and I’m plunged back into the ordinary, all-encompassing darkness. Fumbling for my phone, my heart leaps into my throat when I realize it’s not there.
“Shit,” I mutter, trying to decide whether to drop to my knees and look for it, or run back the way I came.
A cold rush blows past me, rustling my hair, and my back involuntarily goes ramrod straight. My pulse pounds in my ears and I curse myself for being too curious for my own good. I should’ve responded to Wade. He could have been my backup. Now, no one knows where I am or what I’m even doing.
Stupid.
Spinning around, I try to figure out how far I’ve come. At the far end, I can barely make out the small entrance I’d created in the wall. Forcing myself to settle down, I turn counter-clockwise and close my eyes again. If there’s anything here, I should be able to see it. Right?
I reach my senses out again, trying to tap into it as quickly as possible.
A low rumbling sound, almost like a growl, echoes in the darkness, making me jump.
“Hello?” I whisper, simultaneously hoping to be answered by Abigail, or not at all.
As quickly as the sensation of being watched arose, it vanishes, dropping me again into a sense of calm and peace. I exhale in a soft gasp, as I crouch down, and push my inner vision outward.
Suddenly, as if a light switch was flipped, torches ignite along the walls of a large cylindrical space beyond the hallway’s arch.
Groping at my chest, I sit down completely on my butt, exhaling in relief.
Abigail stands in the middle of the circular room, her arms raised and sprea
d out wide. In this light, she appears even more corporeal than I’ve ever seen her. It’s almost as if she’s really here. When our eyes connect, she drops her hands and smiles.
“You were deemed worthy,” she says, walking toward me.
“Um, sure?” I say, rising to a stand and taking a step into the cylindrical room. “That was kinda dramatic, don’t you think?”
“Perhaps,” she says, tilting her head in agreement. “But I did not make the rules.”
Along the stone walls, dozens of intricately carved stone archways adorn the space, all leading off in other directions like spokes on a wheel. From this room, each archway is adorned with more stone carvings and symbols, each different, but beautifully done. On the ground, the sand leading in from each of the the tunnels makes way for larger stone slabs, each placed in a circular pattern around the room, with a single large stone in the center. It has its own unique carving on it and pulsates with an energy that draws my eyes to and makes me want to touch it.
“What is this place?” I ask, walking in circles, trying to take it all in.
Abigail watches me intensely, but raises a knowing eyebrow. “Many years back, well before the manor came into being, this sacred space was constructed. We know not by whom. We knew only that it is a wellspring of veneration for those who have come and gone before us. Those like us, and not, at the same time. When Warren and I were summoned here, we were beckoned by something much stronger than ourselves. It was the deep, powerful longing of this place, as it desired greatly for keepers who would preserve its sanctity.”
I narrow my eyes. “You’re saying this space has a mind of its own?”
Abigail tilts her head, considering. “Consciousness, yes, perhaps it does. The energies that converge here, long deeply for tranquility. Not only for itself, but for the souls who have been laid to rest in its embrace.”
“Ah,” I say, taking a step back as realization washes over me. “We’re in the catacombs.”
A smile spreads across Abigail’s features, lighting her face in a way I’ve never seen. She almost looks…alive.
I shake my head, running my hand through my hair. “I should have guessed. I mean, Wade even mentioned the entrance could be inside. It just didn’t think anyone would hide it in the house.”
Walking slowly in a counter-clockwise movement, I peer down each spoke, trying to get a better idea of what lay beyond. Unfortunately, just like with the hallway before Abigail’s help, the darkness beyond is all encompassing.
“Autumn, I must stress something of utmost importance. It was imperative that you understand that you, and you alone, were given access to this sacred space. These catacombs are a safe haven for those seeking sanctuary, but a labyrinth for those without the gift of tranquility found within our bloodline. It is essential you come to this understanding,” Abigail whispers, her figure suddenly by my side.
“So, only people who are related to you can come in here? Why?” I ask, confused.
Abigail’s expression falters and her lips tug downward. “This place—its magical powers are vast. It will do anything to protect itself and those within its embrace. As it should. Its importance is paramount. So, to speak plainly, yes. Your tie to us brings you protection. But it’s more than this. Should someone enter and not be deemed worthy, their soul will be lost within the labyrinth, unable to ever find a way out. There are some who would call it Purgatory.”
“That seems harsh. I mean, how would you know if you were worthy? Is there some sort of alarm before you get too far?” I say, startled. “Is that why the entrance was hidden?”
“Indeed, it is.”
“Great,” I mutter. “And now, I’ve just opened it.”
Abigail’s eyes twinkle and she takes another step toward me. “There are but two rules for entrance to these catacombs. One must be deemed capable of passing the threshold of worthiness, as is the majority of our bloodline. Or…”
I hold her gaze and my breath as I wait for her to finish.
“Or?” I say, urging her on.
Her eyebrows weave together and her lips tug into a frown. “Or, one must be touched by death.”
Chapter 19
Gather Your Alliances
Obviously, the catacombs aren’t meant for the living. That would sort of defeat the purpose. But the way she said it sent chills down my spine.
“So, what happens if someone who is living enters?” I ask, unable to help myself. “When you say Purgatory, you mean they’ll be trapped between the living and—?”
Abigail’s face is forlorn as she says, “As previously mentioned, there are safeguards to this sacred space. Not all who pass the threshold are taken into Purgatory’s embrace. Some are simply lost until they can find a way out. For others, their price may be much higher.”
“A higher cost than having your soul trapped in Purgatory?” I gape at her. “What could possibly be a higher cost than that?”
She looks over her shoulder at one of the tunnels and half-smiles. “There is much you don’t know about the power coursing through your veins.”
“Then, teach me—explain things to me,” I beg.
“I am…and I will. But you must understand—not everything can be educated with such haste,” she says, reaching out and hovering her hand just above my shoulder, as if unsure whether or not to place it there. After a moment, she pulls her hand back. “What say you to information brought to light of times past when the soulless walked Windhaven?”
I narrow my eyes. “You mean, did we find anything out about the revenants?”
She blinks back at me expectantly.
I raise my eyebrows and clear my throat. “Well, I found out they’re called revenants, for starters. There wasn’t much in the records, but Wade and I did find information pointing back to this happening thirty some odd years ago. They never caught who did it. At least not from the records we read, but…” I stop myself, unsure if I want to mention Wade’s dad’s involvement. Or, suspected involvement, anyway.
Abigail’s head tilts slightly to the side, clearly catching my hesitation.
“But,” I continue, “it hasn’t happened again since. Until now, that is.”
Nodding, Abigail seems appeased by this, but she circles around me. “And what of you? With the soulless arising, have you been afflicted by their presence? Do you sense their beckoning?”
“Afflicted by their presence? Like, are they coming to me?” I say, taking a deep breath and a step back. “You could say that. But sense them? No, not really. Should I be?”
A shiver skitters up my spine at the thought of sensing the revenants.
“They torment you specifically?” Abigail says, concern flashing through her features. “Are you certain?”
I shrug. “Well, sorta. They keep finding me—us, actually.”
“Us?”
I hold her gaze for a moment. “Wade and me.”
Her eyebrows knit together, and she dips her chin.
“Do you know why that is?” I ask.
Abigail’s lips press into a thin line and she clasps her hands behind her back. Taking a few steps from me, her eyes flit around the space. Finally, she says, “You are a beacon for the dead. The stronger your powers grow, the more they will be drawn to you. Your presence is but a bright light in the vast abyss of darkness by which we all adhere.”
“So, you’re saying they find us because I’m a magnet for them?” I say, scratching my forehead.
“Perhaps,” she says, raising a pointer finger in the air. “But the soulless are but empty vessels. They do not possess the qualities of the departed. They are soulless.”
Frowning, I trying to make sense of what she’s saying. “So, if they’re empty vessels, is it just coincidence they find us?”
“Unequivocally…no. They are but adhering to the whispers of their maker,” she says matter-of-factly.
“Their maker… So, someone else is deliberately sending them to me?” I say, my jaw slacking open.
“
It would appear to be the case.” She nods. “Who would wish you ill?”
I run my hands over my face. “This makes no sense whatsoever. I have no idea. Honestly, I haven’t really interacted with many people. Those who I have, are friends.”
“Unearthing this treachery must be paramount. You must find the perpetrator and put an end to their unnatural summoning. Then, whatever remains must be brought here to the catacombs to rest. It is the only way to quell their calling.”
“If bringing them here is the only way to stop them, how were we able to stop two of them?” I ask, completely confused.
“I would not be so certain that you did,” she says, casting me a knowing look that makes my skin crawl and my heart race.
Could those revenants reanimate themselves again?
Abigail sighs, walking away from me. When she reaches the archway to where I came from, her fingertips trace the symbols in the stonework. After a moment, she says, “The last time soulless roamed Windhaven—you say thirty years ago…to me, it feels but a blink of the eye…” Her gaze extends to one of the other tunnels before she walks back over to me. “It took the combined efforts of our family, the Gilberts, the Cranes…and another to overcome their torment. Your father, gifted though he may be, did not possess a tenth of the innate ability you bring forth. So, he had to rely on the talents of others.”
The blood drains from my face and I swallow hard. That’s a lot of magical power. Thirty years ago, all of those families were far more skilled than any of us. Even my father has been more in the know than myself.
“I wish Dad was home. He’s gone away and I don’t know when he’ll be back. How am I meant to do this without him? Are you saying we’ll need to round up the Gilberts and Cranes again? Or—? He could have helped with all of this,” I mutter, trying to ignore the surprising well of anger from his absence and lack of technological know-how.
Soul Legacy: A Supernatural Ghost Series (The Windhaven Witches Book 2) Page 14