Whispers from the Grave

Previously

…It was her mother’s voice. A phantom echo, a final, desperate warning. But it was too late. The vortex enveloped her completely, pulling her into its heart. The ritual had begun, and Thea was no longer just Thea. She was a conduit, a bridge between worlds, a vessel for ancient power. The embrace of the ritual was not a gentle welcome, but a violent, consuming storm. As the light consumed her, she felt a profound sense of both terror and exhilaration, a surrender to a destiny she was only just beginning to understand. The manor held its breath, waiting for the transformation to be complete. The whispers from the grave had finally found their voice, and it was her own.