Chapter 29

When I woke up the next morning, sunlight spilled lazily across my room, touching everything except the portrait on the wall. It hung there like it owned the place, silent and regal — except for the part where it used to not be smiling.

Now, her lips were faintly curved. Just a hint. Not enough to call it a grin, but enough to make my stomach twist every time I looked at her.

I threw a pillow at it. "Creepy. You're officially creepy now."

No response. Just that steady, knowing stare.

Downstairs, the house was quiet. Dad had gone out early with Gran for her check-up, leaving a note on the counter about leftover pancakes. It should've felt peaceful, but it didn't. Everything about this morning felt... loaded. Like Sherfield itself was holding its breath.

At school, I told myself I wouldn't bring up the whole "haunted painting" thing. Not everything that happened needed to be turned into another paranormal case, right?

Yeah. That lasted about five minutes.

\---

"Okay, you have to admit that's weird," Nick said after I finished explaining. He leaned back in his chair, spinning a pencil between his fingers. "It's like the painting's alive."

Lisa rolled her eyes. "Paintings don't just... smile, Nick."

"Unless they're cursed," he countered, smirking. "Or possessed. Maybe your ancestor wants to take over Aili's body."

I shot him a glare. "You're not helping."

Brandon, who'd been quiet since I started talking, finally spoke. "You said she told you to remember her, right? Maybe she's not trying to haunt you. Maybe she's trying to tell you something."

Lisa adjusted her glasses, thoughtful. "That would make sense. Spirits tied to family lines often reach out through personal objects — mirrors, jewelry, portraits..."

"So, she's family?" I asked.

"Maybe." Lisa's voice softened. "We could find out who she was. Sherfield's library has old archives — records, family registries, even old art catalogs."

Sam perked up. "We're seriously doing this again? Diving into another creepy mystery?"

Nick grinned. "What, you wanted math class instead?"

She sighed. "Fine. But if another ghost sets itself on fire, I'm moving towns."

\---

The Sherfield Library looked like it had crawled out of an old horror movie — towering oak shelves, dusty chandeliers, and the faint scent of parchment that hadn't seen daylight in decades.

Lisa led the charge, already armed with a stack of notebooks and sticky tabs. The rest of us trailed behind like her slightly less enthusiastic research assistants.

We found an entire section labeled Historical Records — Sherfield & Roundstone County (1800–1950).

"Start here," Lisa said. "If your family's from Roundstone, they'd be listed."

Hours blurred. I flipped through genealogy books, scanning page after page of O'Briens, O'Connors, and McCormicks. Names, dates, marriages. Nothing jumped out — until one photograph caught my eye.

A sepia portrait of a woman in white, standing by a cliff overlooking the sea.

Her eyes. Hazel-brown. Familiar.

"Lisa," I whispered, waving her over. "Look."

She leaned in. "That's—oh my god, Aili, she looks exactly like the woman from your portrait."

Nick glanced over. "What's it say?"

The caption beneath read:

Lady Maeve O'Brien (1892–1918)

Beloved daughter, wife, and mother. Lost to the sea during the Blood Moon storm.

My throat went dry. "Lost to the sea..."

Sam frowned. "Wait, wasn't there that legend about a Blood Moon storm drowning half the coast?"

Lisa nodded slowly. "There was. It's said the ocean claimed the O'Brien estate — took their home, their land, and their fortune overnight.

Nick raised a brow. "So your ancestor's a ghost who died during a cursed blood moon and now she's back during another one? That's... dramatic."

I glared. "This isn't funny."

Brandon leaned closer, voice low. "Aili, she could be warning you. Maybe history's repeating itself."

A shiver ran through me. Remember me.

\---

We didn't leave until the librarian politely kicked us out at sunset.

By then, Lisa had pieced together more details. Lady Maeve had been the youngest daughter of Eamon O'Brien — a shipping merchant from Roundstone whose ships mysteriously sank after he refused to pay something called the Tithe of the Sea.

Apparently, local legend claimed the sea demanded a sacrifice from each O'Brien generation in exchange for safe passage.

Creepy. Ancient. And very, very Irish.

"Please tell me you don't think your family actually made deals with the ocean," Nick said as we walked through the evening fog toward the park.

"Who knows?" I muttered. "Half of Sherfield seems to have secrets. Why not mine too?"

Sam's voice was quiet. "Maybe it's why your mum left Roundstone. To break the cycle."

That thought hit harder than I expected.

The sky was dimming when Brandon stopped abruptly. "Do you hear that?"

We froze.

From the woods behind the park came the faintest sound — a melody. Like humming. Sad, old-fashioned, almost like a lullaby carried on the wind.

Lisa's face paled. "That's... that's her tune. It's mentioned in the record. Maeve used to sing that song to the fishermen before they left port."

I took a shaky breath. "Then why is she singing it now?"

Nick pulled out his flashlight. "Let's find out."

\---

We followed the sound through the trees until it led us to the small lake behind the school — calm and silver under the rising moon. Mist clung to the surface, swirling as if alive.

The melody grew louder.

Then the water rippled.

Shapes began to form beneath the surface — faint outlines of hands, faces. Like something trying to break free.

Sam's breath hitched. "Guys... the water—"

Before she could finish, the lake erupted.

A figure rose from it, half-formed and glowing faintly blue, hair floating like seaweed. Her eyes — those familiar hazel eyes — locked on me.

"Maeve..." I whispered.

Her voice was soft, echoing in all directions. "You must remember... the promise... the sea remembers..."

The wind howled, waves slamming against the shore.

Nick swore. "She's not happy!"

Lisa shouted over the roar. "She's trapped! The spirit's bound to the curse — it's feeding on the family's forgotten vow!"

Sam stepped forward, eyes glowing faintly blue again. "Not this time."

The water rose around her like a living thing, spiraling upward as she lifted her arms. It wasn't fear this time — it was power. Controlled. Calm.

I'm

"Go back!" she shouted, her voice ringing with command. "Your debt is done. Your time is over!"

The water obeyed. It wrapped around the glowing figure, dimming her light, soothing her rage. Maeve looked at me one last time, her expression softer now, almost grateful.

Then she whispered, "The bloodline must be kept."

And with that, she was gone.

The lake stilled. Silence fell.

We stood there, breathing hard, drenched from the mist and adrenaline.

Nick was the first to speak. "I'm starting to think hanging out with you people is bad for my health."

Lisa adjusted her glasses, shaking her head. "That wasn't random. She was protecting something—or someone."

Brandon looked at me. "She said the bloodline must be kept. That means your family, Aili. Maybe there's more to this than we think."

I swallowed hard. "Whatever it is... it's not over."

Because as we walked away, I glanced back at the lake — and in the reflection of the still water, I could see her again. Watching. Smiling faintly.

The woman in the portrait.

And beneath her reflection, faint and silver in the moonlight, words shimmered briefly before fading into the water.

The sea never forgets.