The rain didn't just fall; it screamed against the side of the boat. Each wave felt like a hand trying to pull us into the black depths of the Atlantic. I sat in the corner, clutching the leather folder to my chest. The documents inside were damp, but the truth they held was burning through my mind.
Beside me, the scarred man fought the steering wheel. He didn't speak. He didn't have to. The fire from the cottage was still visible in the distance, a tiny orange dot against the dark cliffs. The woman who looked like me—the "failed" masterpiece—was gone. She had sacrificed herself so I could have a chance to breathe.
"Why did he do it?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper over the engine. "Why did David try to recreate Eleanor?"
The driver looked at me for a split second. "Love makes men do many things, Zoya. But obsession makes them lose their souls. David couldn't accept a world where Eleanor was dead. So, he decided to build a world where she never left."
I looked at the old photo again. David and Eleanor. They looked so young. So innocent. I touched my own face, wondering if my skin was even real. If David was my creator, did that mean every smile I gave him was programmed? Was my attraction to him just a glitch in the system, or was it something deeper?
"We are entering the private docks of BlackwoodManor," the man announced.
The silhouette of the mansion loomed ahead. It looked like a giant beast crouching in the fog. The windows were dark, except for the basement levels, where a faint red glow pulsed like a heartbeat.
We docked the boat in silence. The air here smelled of wet stone and old secrets. My heart hammered against my ribs as I stepped onto the slippery wooden planks. Every shadow looked like a soldier. Every rustle of the wind sounded like a whisper from the "Watchers."
"The Red Room is in the sub-basement," I said, remembering the map. "David said I have to find it."
"I will handle the guards at the main gate," the man said, checking his weapon. "You have to go through the service tunnels. Once you are inside, you are on your own, Zoya. Do not trust anyone. Not even your father."
I nodded, feeling a cold resolve settle over me. I wasn't the scared girl who ran away from London anymore. That girl died in the cottage fire.
I crept through the tall grass, moving toward the side entrance of the manor. The heavy iron door was unlocked. I slipped inside, and the silence of the house wrapped around me like a shroud. The walls were lined with David's paintings—hundreds of them. They all looked at me with judging eyes.
I found the stairs leading down. The further I went, the warmer the air became. It smelled of ozone and chemicals. Finally, I reached the heavy steel door of the laboratory. It was cracked open.
I peered through the gap. The room was massive, filled with glowing tanks and humming computers. In the center was the glass cage I had seen on the laptop.
David was still there. He was slumped in the chair, his eyes closed. My father, Arthur, was standing at a console, his fingers flying across the keys. He looked possessed.
"Almost there," Arthur muttered to himself. "The final sequence. Just one more drop of the original blood, and the ghost will wake up."
I stepped into the room, my boots clicking on the cold floor. "Stop it!" I shouted.
Arthur froze. He turned around slowly, a look of shock crossing his face. But then, he smiled. It was the most terrifying smile I had ever seen. "Zoya. You came back. My brave, beautiful girl."
"I'm not your girl," I said, my voice steady. "I know the truth. I know what you did to Eleanor. And I know what you're trying to do to me."
Arthur laughed, a dry, hollow sound. "You think you know? You have only seen the surface, Zoya. David didn't create you to love you. He created you to be a mirror. He wanted to look at you and see his own brilliance. But I... I want to give the world a miracle."
He pressed a button, and the glass cage began to fill with a thick, crimson gas. David gasped, his body jerking as the gas entered his lungs.
"No!" I screamed, running toward the cage.
"Don't touch it!" Arthur warned, pointing a remote at me. "One touch and the security system will fry your heart. You are the final key, Zoya. Your DNA is the only thing that can stabilize the ghost. If you want him to live, you have to step into the second chamber."
I looked at David. His eyes were open now. They were bloodshot and filled with agony. He shook his head, a silent plea for me to run.
But I couldn't leave him. Despite the lies, despite the mystery, the bond I felt with him was the only thing that felt real in this nightmare world.
"If I go in, you let him go?" I asked.
"You have my word," Arthur said, though his eyes told a different story.
I walked toward the second glass chamber. My hand trembled as I reached for the handle. I looked at David one last time. A single tear tracked through the dust on his cheek.
"I love you, Zoya," he mouthed.
It was the first time he had said those words without calling me his masterpiece or his sister. He called me Zoya.
I stepped inside and the door locked with a heavy thud.
Suddenly, the red lights turned white. A high-pitched hum filled my ears. I felt a sharp sting in my arm as a needle emerged from the wall, drawing my blood. On the monitors, rows of data began to turn from red to green.
"Yes!" Arthur shouted, throwing his hands up in triumph. "The activation is complete! Eleanor is coming back!"
The crimson gas in David's cage began to clear. He slumped forward, the restraints on his arms snapping open. He fell to the floor, coughing violently.
"David!" I yelled, banging my fists against the glass. "Get out of here!"
David looked up, but he didn't look at me. He looked at the monitors. His eyes widened in horror. "No... Arthur, what have you done? That's not the Eleanor sequence!"
Arthur stopped, his face turning pale. "What? Of course it is. I used the samples from the coffin!"
"Those weren't Eleanor's samples!" David screamed, scrambling toward the console. "Those were the samples from the original accident! You aren't bringing back a girl, Arthur. You're bringing back the fire!"
Suddenly, the manor groaned. The ground shook with the force of an earthquake. From the large tank in the corner—the one I thought was empty—something began to emerge.
It wasn't a person. It was a dark, swirling mass of energy and shadow, shaped vaguely like a human. It shrieked, a sound so loud the glass of the laboratory began to shatter.
Arthur was thrown backward by the force of the sound. He hit the wall and went limp.
The shadow moved toward my chamber. It pressed its cold, dark hands against the glass. I could see faces flickering within the shadow—faces of people who had died in the manor twenty years ago.
David reached the console and began typing frantically. "Zoya! Hold on! I have to reverse the flow!"
"David, look out!" I screamed.
The shadow turned its attention to David. It lunged at him, throwing him across the room like a ragdoll. He hit a row of metal cabinets and didn't move.
I was trapped. The glass was cracking. The shadow was inches from my face.
But then, the monitor behind me flickered. A new file appeared on the screen, bypassing Arthur's security. It was a video file, titled: FOR ZOYA'S EYES ONLY.
The video started playing. It was my mother. The real one. She was sitting in a hospital bed, looking pale but beautiful.
"Zoya," she whispered in the video. "If you are seeing this, it means they have tried to wake the ghost. You must remember the secret I whispered to you when you were three. You aren't the masterpiece, my darling. You are the lock. To stop them, you have to..."
The audio cut out. The glass in front of me finally shattered.
The shadow surged forward, wrapping around my throat. I couldn't breathe. My vision began to turn black. But in that moment, a memory flashed in my mind. A memory that hadn't been scripted by David or Arthur.
It was a memory of a small, red room. A room with no windows. And in that room, there was a girl who looked exactly like me, holding a match.
I reached out and grabbed the shadow's hand.
"I remember," I whispered.
The shadow stopped. The screaming ceased. The entire laboratory went silent.
Outside, I heard the sound of sirens and helicopters. The "Watchers" had arrived. But as I looked at David's unconscious body and the dark entity in front of me, I realized the real war hadn't even started yet.
I looked at the shadow and smiled. It wasn't a smile of fear. It was a smile of recognition.
"Hello, sister," I said.
The shadow vanished into my chest. A surge of power exploded through my veins, and for the first time in my life, I didn't feel like a painting.
I felt like a storm.
[To be continued in Chapter 11...]