ANNIE'S POV
The sky had darkened long before the sun disappeared. Thick, oppressive clouds hung low, cloaking the world in a heavy shroud. I walked, half-broken, dragging a wooden barrow behind me. Upon it, beneath a large black blanket, lay the bodies of the two people I loved most my sister, Resa, and my best friend, Alexa.
My steps were slow, weary. The cold wind lashed at me, merciless. I was wrapped in a long black cloak with the hood drawn low over my face, but it did little to protect me. My skin was pale, my limbs weak. I couldn't even recall the last time I had eaten. Hunger no longer mattered. Only this journey.
As I trudged forward, numb to everything except the ache in my soul, my boot caught on a jagged rock hidden beneath the frost-bitten ground. I stumbled and fell hard, gasping as my knees struck the earth.
For a moment, I didn't move. I just stared ahead, eyes unfocused. Then, like lightning cracking across my vision, a memory struck...
I was running through the woods, frantic, leaves slapping against my face, my breath hitching with every step. The night was full of shadows, and I was searching… desperate. That was the night I found the place that used to be the old inn.
A fragile smile touched my lips in the present. I remembered banging hard on that door until my fists ached.
"Who?" came the croaky voice from inside.
I swallowed the lump in my throat.
"Donald? I need your help."
The memory faded as quickly as it came, replaced by the cold, cruel present. I shook the dirt from my hands and forced myself back to my feet. No time for weakness. Not now.
By nightfall, I reached the Charon River. Its waters were as black as spilled ink, reflecting nothing of the sky above. On the bank stood a small canoe, and within it, an old woman, skin pale as bone, her face a tapestry of deep wrinkles. She gripped a long wooden paddle, eyes like hollow moons.
Wordlessly, she held out her hand. I reached into my cloak and placed a pouch of coins in her palm.
"You know where I wish to go," I murmured.
She gave a silent nod. With a strength that belied her frail frame, she helped me load the bodies into the canoe. Then, without a word, she began to paddle.
The boat rocked gently beneath me as we glided over the misty waters. Cold wind tugged at my clothes and hair, but I barely noticed. My thoughts were far away tangled in the past.
The door to the inn creaked open again in my mind, and Donald Pathaway stepped out, wrapped in a white bathrobe. Hair disheveled, eyes sunken with age and things he'd seen but never spoken of.
His gaze swept over me.
"What can I do for you, kiddo?" he asked.
"I heard you resurrected Charles. He was my friend. What spell did you use?"
He narrowed his eyes, then turned to walk away.
"I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Please," I said, stepping forward, desperation rising. "I need to do the same for my sister and my best friend."
He paused. "I suggest you go home."
Anger flared in my chest.
"You have no idea what I've been through to find you," I snapped. "And I'm not leaving until you tell me what I need to hear."
He chuckled softly without turning. "How did you even find this place?"
"Does it matter?"
He turned his head slightly, smiled sadly. "Resurrection isn't rebirth. It's reanimation. They come back different. Changed"
"Do you think I care?"
"Go home, kiddo."
The door closed behind him.
Back in the present, I exhaled sharply, as if the weight of that memory had squeezed the breath from my lungs. I looked around nothing but gray water and mist. No land in sight. I turned my gaze to the bodies beside me.
"I'm not giving up. Not now. Not ever."
The canoe creaked as it pressed forward. Hours passed, and finally, the island came into view, shrouded in a ghostly mist, silent and foreboding.
My grip tightened on the edge of the boat.
"The Isle of the Dead," I whispered, a bitter smile tugging at my lips.
When I stepped onto the shore, the earth welcomed me with a quiet squelch. The soil was damp, soft, and almost spongy like something long dead and rotting beneath it. Each footstep released a faint hiss, as if the island itself were breathing.
The air was thick with the stench of salt and decay. No birds, no insects, no sound except for the gentle lapping of waves behind me. I pressed forward, dragging the barrow along a narrow, winding path that slithered through the twisted forest.
The trees here had no leaves. Just blackened, crooked limbs reaching upward like skeletal hands begging for release. There was no trail, but I didn't need one. Something in me knew exactly where to go.
With every step, memories returned, not only the sweet ones, but the broken ones too.
I remembered the scream. The cold body in my arms. The silence that followed. The weight of losing them both.
And that pain… that was my motivation.
Eventually, I reached a clearing. At its center stood an ancient stone altar, covered in moss and carved with runes that pulsed faintly with red light. The trees surrounding it leaned inward, forming a tight circle, like guardians keeping secrets.
This was it. The place.
I knelt beside the altar, drawing a satchel from beneath my cloak. Inside were the offerings: a lock of my sister's hair, Alexa's pendant and a vial of my own blood. Each object shimmered faintly as I placed them on the stone.
My voice trembled as I began the incantation. Syllables stitched together from forbidden tomes and fragments of lost language.
Only once did my voice break.
"Resa. Alexa. Come back to me."
The altar flared with crimson light. The ground shuddered. A hum rose deep, old, powerful. It coursed through my veins.
I clung to hope. Just a little more…
Then, a voice, low and cold, like the scraping of stone.
"You call them from beyond… but they are long gone."
I spun around. A shadow stood beyond the altar. Cloaked. Faceless. Yet its presence pressed on my chest like a weight I couldn't lift.
"What do you mean?" I asked, voice brittle. "I've already given everything."
"The souls you seek... they do not wish to return."
I froze. "No. That's not possible. I had their souls, I used them to torment him."
The shadow nodded. "We know. But the choice is not yours to make. They chose not to come back."
I stumbled back, disbelief shattering through me. "No. No, you're wrong. I gave up everything. I can't lose them again."
"You never truly had them to begin with."
Tears blurred my vision. I dropped to my knees.
"you can still speak with them?" The shadow whispered. "But it comes at a cost."
I let out a bitter scream, "I want them back!"
"You cannot force the dead to live again."
The words fell over me like ice. My throat tightened. I broke down right there on the mossy ground.
And then barely a whisper, but unmistakable.
"There is something… that can be done."
Then it leaned close, its voice slithering into my ear, words formed.
My eyes lit with vengeance and fury and a twisted smile formed on my lips.