Chapter 27

Chapter 27
Bone and Truth

Blake's POV

The graveyard whispered secrets, each headstone a silent keeper of truths I wasn’t sure I wanted to uncover.

The air hung heavy, thick with the damp scent of dirt and moss, as if the ground itself was breathing.

The moon was too bright for my liking, its silver glow spilling over the cracked outlines of crumbling graves. I pulled my hoodie lower, shielding my face from the relentless light as I walked between the stones.

Neo trailed a few steps behind, his boots soft against the rocky ground—but not soft enough.

“Keep it down,” I muttered, my voice barely a breath.

He scoffed, but his reply came low, almost swallowed by the night. “You sure about this?”

“No.”

But I kept walking, my pulse a steady drumbeat in my chest. Doubt gnawed at me, but stopping wasn’t an option. At least not now.

The grave lay near the cemetery’s edge, tucked behind a weak looking tree that seemed to sag under the weight of centuries.

Its rough branches hung low over the grave like a mourning veil, and I stopped in front of the headstone—Seraphine’s final resting place.

Or what should have been.

“Looks... disturbed,” Neo said, crouching beside me. His fingers brushed away loose soil, revealing churned earth that shone wetly under the moonlight. “Someone’s been here.”

I didn’t speak. Couldn’t. My chest tightened, ribs caging something wild and restless that threatened to break free. We’d buried her under fire—the old kind, flames that devoured everything they touched. Nothing should’ve survived that.

Yet scorch marks still circled the grave like a reminder, etched into the soil. And in the center, bones lay bare, exposed to the air. Clean. Untouched by decay. Too perfect.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry as ash. “She didn’t burn alone.”

Neo didn’t answer at first. He edged closer, his fingers grazing a charred stone fragment half-buried in the dirt. Then he looked up, eyes narrowing, sharp as a blade.

“That’s not just her bone,” he said. “Too thick. Too long.” He paused, letting the words sink in. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

I didn’t want to be.

“No.” I stood straighter, fists clenched until my knuckles ached. “I’m thinking whoever was here didn’t finish the job.”

He snorted, the sound harsh in the quiet. “You always this in denial?”

“You always this annoying?” I shot back, but the words lacked bite. My focus was elsewhere, splintered by the grave and the questions it raised.

The locket. Claire.

Her scream still echoed in my ears from earlier that night. I’d found her crumpled on the floor of her room, shaking, her hand branded with a raw, red mark from that damned relic.

And the voice—“She lives through you”—had clung to my skin like frost, chilling me to the core.

Neo straightened beside me, his shadow sharp against the moonlight. “You saw the locket too, didn’t you? On her?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to.

“She’s not just connected to Seraphine, Blake,” he pressed, his voice low but insistent. “She is her. Or... a reincarnation. An heir. Hell, I don’t know the word, but it’s real. Claire isn’t just some healer with weird powers. She’s something more.”

“She’s Claire,” I snapped, the words cutting through the night.

Neo stared at me, his gaze heavy. “Is she?”

“Yes.”

Silence stretched between us, sharp as shattered glass. The wind stirred the willow’s branches, their rustle like a chorus of whispers.

Then, softer, almost to myself, I said, “No one’s burning her again. Not while I breathe.”

Neo’s expression shifted, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. For once, he didn’t push back. Didn’t challenge me. He just nodded, a small, almost unnoticeable movement.

I turned back to the grave, crouching low. My heart pounded harder with every second, a rhythm that matched the beat of the night. The air felt charged, like a storm was brewing just beyond the horizon.

“You feel that?” Neo asked suddenly, his voice taut.

I froze, my palm pressed to the soil. “What?”

“A pulse. Under the ground.”

He wasn’t wrong. The earth vibrated faintly beneath my hand, a subtle thrum that felt alive, trapped, and desperate.

My breath caught, and I shoved Neo aside without a word, digging fast. Dirt lodged under my nails, cold and gritty, as I clawed through the loose soil.

My fingers struck something hard. Cold.

Not bone.

Metal.

I pulled it free, wiping it clean with my sleeve. A half-melted pendant gleamed dully in the moonlight, its edges twisted and scorched beyond recognition.

It wasn’t the locket Claire had held, but another relic, buried with whoever—or whatever—lay in this grave.

“What the hell is this?” Neo murmured, leaning closer.

“I don’t know.” My voice was steady, but my mind raced. “But it was buried with her. Or them.”

And it was obvious, that it was practically useless at this point considering the damage.

Neo squinted, his nose wrinkling. “Wait... smell that?”

I paused, inhaling deeply. There it was, faint but unmistakable, carried on the edge of the wind.

Cedarwood. Bloodroot. Honeysuckle.

My eyes snapped up, meeting Neo’s. “That’s Mirabel’s perfume.”

He stiffened, his jaw tight. “No way.”

I stood slowly, every instinct flaring to life. My senses sharpened, the graveyard coming into focus—the rustle of leaves, the distant hoot of an owl, the faint creak of branches.

Then we heard it—a sharp crack of twigs behind the willow.

“Run,” I hissed.

We bolted around the grave, boots thudding over moss and stone. A figure sprinted into the tree line, cloaked in shadows, moving fast. Too fast.

“Shift?” Neo asked, his voice strained as we ran.

“No time. Stay close.”

We chased the figure, branches slashing at my arms, mud soaking into my jeans. The figure was small, agile, weaving through the graves like they knew every inch of this place. Not random. Not a stranger.

They ducked behind a statue, its weathered stone looming like a guard.

I rounded the corner, heart hammering—but they were gone.

Neo skidded to a stop beside me, panting. “Dammit. They vanished.”

“No,” I said, my nose lifting to the air. “But they left something behind.”

The scent clung to the stone, stronger now. Not just perfume.

Fear. Panic.

And her unmistakable essence.

“Mirabel.”

Neo stared at me, stunned. “You’re sure?”

I didn’t answer. My blood roared in my ears, drowning out everything else.

What the hell was she doing here?

And why was she hiding behind Seraphine’s grave?