"Run!" Lucien shouted, pushing Clara toward the open floor panel. He stepped between her and Erynn, his teeth flashing in the red emergency lights.
Clara scrambled toward the dark stairs, but Erynn laughed—a sound like breaking glass.
"Oh, Lucien. Always so protective." Erynn raised her hand, and flames danced between her fingers. "You know how this ends."
Clara didn't wait to see more. She plunged into the darkness of the stairs, hearing Lucien and Erynn fighting behind her. The floor panel slid shut above her head, cutting off the sounds of war.
Alone in the pitch-black cave, Clara froze. What if Lucien couldn't escape? What if Erynn killed him?
"Keep moving," she told herself, finding her way down the cold stone steps. "Find help."
At the bottom of the stairs, Clara couldn't see anything. The darkness was complete. She felt along the rough wall, trying to figure out which way to go.
Suddenly, her locket grew warm against her skin. Clara pulled it out from under her shirt, gasping as it started to glow with soft blue light.
"What in the world?" she whispered.
The light was just enough to see a few feet ahead. Clara followed the tight tunnel, holding her locket like a tiny lantern. Something about this felt familiar, like she'd done it before.
As she walked, the locket's glow pulsed brighter when she faced certain directions—like it was leading her. Clara followed its signals, going left at one fork, then right at another.
The tunnel widened, and Clara noticed strange marks on the walls—symbols that looked like crescent moons and stars. Just like her scar.
"I've been here before," Clara said aloud, surprising herself. How could she know that?
After what seemed like hours but was probably only minutes, Clara's locket began to pulse brightly toward what looked like a solid wall. She approached it carefully.
The wall looked ordinary, but when she held up her glowing locket, secret symbols appeared—the same crescent moon shape as her birthmark and the locket.
Without thinking, Clara pressed her locket against the sign on the wall.
The stone made a grinding noise as a secret door swung open. Clara's locket glowed even brighter, showing a room beyond.
Clara stepped through the doorway and gasped.
She stood in a circle library. Bookshelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling, filled with hundreds of leather-bound books. A desk sat in the center with an open book and a quill pen, as if someone had just been writing there.
The locket's light faded now that she was inside, but candles around the room suddenly lit themselves, making Clara jump.
"Magic," she whispered. "Real magic."
Following her feelings, Clara approached the desk. The open book was a diary, its pages filled with handwriting she recognized instantly—her own handwriting.
But the date at the top of the page read: April 15, 1845.
Clara's hands trembled as she turned back through the leaves. Each entry was dated from 1845, all in her handwriting. She picked up another book from the desk and opened it. This one was marked 1745.
"These are my journals," Clara said softly. "From all my past lives."
She ran her fingers along the bookshelves, finding more papers organized by year—1645, 1745, 1845, 1945... each one filled with her writing, her thoughts, her memories from lives she couldn't remember living.
Clara grabbed the most latest journal—1945—and began to read:
"February 12, 1945. I found the library again today. Each time I return to this castle, it takes me longer to find my way back to my own memories. Lucien says it's because the curse gets stronger with each rebirth. Erynn is hunting us again. I can feel her getting closer.
"I've found something important about the locket. It's not just a key to the castle's secret rooms—it's a key to my memories, to my power. When I hold it during the full moon, I can remember flashes of my past lives. But remembering makes the curse stronger too.
"Lucien thinks we should run, but I know the truth now. We can't keep running forever. There must be a way to break this curse. The answer lies in my blood and his, combined at the right time.
"If you're reading this—if I am reading this in my next life—find the witch in the forest. Her name is Isolde. She knows more than she tells, but she's the only one who can help us break the loop. The ritual needs three things: vampire blood, witch blood, and human blood. I have two in me already."
Clara flipped furiously through the pages, but the rest were blank. The writer—her past self—never finished.
She moved to another shelf and pulled down an older journal from 1645. The first note made her blood run cold:
"My name is Clara Thorne. If you are reading this, I am dead, and you are me, reborn. This will sound impossible, but you must believe. Your dreams of the silver-eyed man are real. Your marking is the key. Trust Lucien, but tell no one else what you remember."
Clara sank into the desk chair, her head spinning. It was all true—everything Lucien had told her. She had lived many lives, died many deaths, always finding her way back to him, always hunted by Erynn.
As she sat in shock, Clara noticed something carved into the desk—a map. It showed the castle and the nearby forest, with a small cottage marked by a star.
"The witch in the forest," Clara whispered. "Isolde."
Suddenly, she heard footsteps in the tunnel outside. Clara froze, listening. Was it Lucien? Or Erynn?
The footsteps got closer. Clara looked around for somewhere to hide, but there was nowhere to go.
The hidden door began to open. Clara grabbed a heavy book, ready to protect herself.
A tall woman with white hair and bright eyes stepped into the room. She looked at Clara with a strange smile.
"At last," the woman said. "You've found your way home, Clara."
"Who are you? " Clara ordered, backing away.
"I'm Isolde. I've been waiting for you." The woman's golden eyes gleamed in the lighting. "And we don't have much time."
"Where's Lucien? " Clara asked, still holding the book like a weapon.
Isolde's smile faded. "Erynn has him. She'll take his blood by midnight if we don't stop her."
"Why should I believe you? " Clara asked.
Isolde held out her hand, showing a crescent-shaped birthmark identical to Clara's.
"Because we share the same blood," Isolde said. "I'm not just a witch, Clara. I'm your grandfather. And I know how to break the curse that's killed you for four hundred years."
Before Clara could answer, the castle shook violently. Books tumbled from the shelves.
"She's starting the ritual," Isolde said quickly. "We need to go now, or Lucien dies—and this time, he won't come back."