Chapter 112
Elizabeth
Home?
The word felt strange.
Distant.
Like a memory buried beneath years of dust.
I stared at the floating key hanging in front of me.
It continued pointing toward the massive golden doorway above the river.
Toward the impossible light hanging over New Orleans.
Toward the world I’d spent years trying not to think about.
My stomach twisted.
“No.”
The word escaped before I could stop it.
The stranger looked at me.
“It’s true.”
“No.”
I shook my head harder this time.
“I left.”
The golden doorway pulsed.
A deep hum rolled across the city.
Windows rattled.
Streetlights flickered.
The crowd remained kneeling.
Silent.
Watching.
Waiting.
The key glowed brighter.
I hated it.
Because a tiny part of me recognized the feeling.
The pull.
The warmth.
The strange familiarity.
It felt like standing in front of a house you hadn’t seen in years.
A house you swore you’d never return to.
Damon stepped closer.
His silver eyes remained fixed on the doorway.
“What happens if it opens completely?”
The stranger’s expression darkened.
“No one knows.”
That wasn’t reassuring.
At all.
Adam folded his arms.
“You keep saying nobody knows.”
The stranger looked unimpressed.
“Because nobody does.”
Fair.
Annoying.
But fair.
The church suddenly shook again.
A section of stone cracked away from the bell tower and crashed into the street.
The sound echoed through the night.
The civilians didn’t react.
Not one of them.
It was like they were trapped in some kind of trance.
The little girl looked frightened again.
“The gate is feeding.”
Lucien sighed dramatically.
“I miss when our problems involved normal murderers.”
Nobody laughed.
Not even a little.
The situation had moved well beyond jokes.
The golden doorway above the river grew larger.
More solid.
More real.
And the longer I stared at it, the stronger the feeling became.
Home.
The word echoed through my mind.
I hated it.
Because part of me missed it.
The forests.
The mountains.
The cities where humans and supernatural creatures lived together openly.
The world I’d run from.
A world where vampires weren’t hiding.
Where werewolves weren’t myths.
Where magic existed in the sunlight.
I hadn’t thought about it in years.
Not properly.
Not honestly.
Because remembering meant thinking about why I left.
And I hated thinking about that.
A sudden sharp pain shot through my hand.
I gasped.
The mark burned.
Not like before.
Different.
The golden lines spread farther across my skin.
Crawling toward my wrist.
Toward my arm.
Damon grabbed my hand immediately.
The pain lessened.
Not completely.
Just enough.
His eyes narrowed.
“Elizabeth.”
I looked up.
“What?”
His expression had hardened.
“The mark is changing again.”
I followed his gaze.
My stomach dropped.
He was right.
The symbol no longer looked the same.
New shapes had appeared around it.
Ancient shapes.
Symbols.
Letters.
Something was happening.
Something important.
The stranger swore under his breath.
Again.
Honestly, he seemed to be doing that a lot.
“What now?” Adam asked.
The stranger looked at my hand.
Then at the floating key.
Then toward the doorway.
His face became grim.
“The barrier recognizes her.”
Silence.
I frowned.
“The barrier already recognizes me.”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“You don’t understand.”
Which, frankly, I was getting tired of hearing.
The church bell suddenly rang.
One loud, violent note.
The sound exploded across the city.
The ground trembled.
And then—
The church doors burst open.
Everyone froze.
The darkness inside spilled outward.
Not smoke.
Not shadow.
Something else.
Like liquid night.
The crowd immediately stood.
Every single person.
At once.
The little girl went pale.
The stranger looked furious.
Adam’s expression darkened.
Lucien stopped smiling.
Damon became very still.
Dangerously still.
The darkness flowed down the church steps.
Spreading across the street.
The civilians didn’t move away.
They walked toward it.
My pulse skyrocketed.
“What are they doing?”
The answer came from the little girl.
“They hear it.”
The voice inside the church echoed again.
That strange song.
Ancient.
Beautiful.
Wrong.
The civilians continued walking.
One by one.
Straight into the darkness.
And disappearing.
My stomach twisted.
“Where are they going?”
Nobody answered immediately.
Then the stranger spoke.
“Inside.”
I stared.
“Inside what?”
His golden eyes met mine.
“The prison.”
Silence.
The world seemed to stop.
My breath caught.
No.
No, that wasn’t possible.
The prison wasn’t open.
It couldn’t be.
Could it?
The stranger looked toward the church.
“The gate is creating cracks.”
A pause.
“Small ones.”
The implications hit immediately.
The civilians weren’t dying.
They weren’t being consumed.
They were crossing.
Crossing into the prison.
Into the place behind the red door.
The place from my visions.
The place that had been calling my name.
My skin crawled.
The voice echoed again.
And this time—
I heard something else.
Words.
Actual words.
Not many.
Just three.
Three words that froze my blood.
“Come home, Elizabeth.”
I stumbled backward.
Damon caught my arm before I could fall.
“What happened?”
I couldn’t breathe.
The voice.
The words.
The familiarity.
I knew that voice.
Not because I’d heard it recently.
Because I’d heard it before.
Long ago.
The realization hit me so hard it almost hurt.
I knew that voice.
Somewhere.
Somehow.
The stranger saw my expression.
Immediately.
And he looked worried.
Actually worried.
“What did it say?”
I swallowed.
My throat felt dry.
Then I answered.
“It knows my name.”
Silence.
The church voice laughed softly.
The sound echoed through the street.
The crowd stopped moving.
The darkness froze.
Everything froze.
Then the voice spoke again.
This time everyone heard it.
A deep voice.
Ancient.
Powerful.
Male.
“I’ve waited a very long time.”
Nobody moved.
Nobody breathed.
The voice continued.
“Open the way.”
The key hanging in front of me began glowing brighter.
Brighter.
Brighter.
Until the entire street was filled with golden light.
The mark on my hand burned.
The giant doorway above the river answered.
The church answered.
The darkness answered.
And for one terrible moment—
Everything seemed connected.
The prison.
The key.
The doorway.
Me.
The stranger stared at the glowing key.
Then his face changed.
Confusion.
Shock.
Fear.
All at once.
My stomach dropped.
Because if he was scared…
Then something was very wrong.
Slowly, he looked at me.
Then at the key.
Then toward the church.
And whispered:
“That’s not the prison speaking.”