Chapter 5 – Echoes of the Past
Duskfield, Summer 2005
The morning light filtered weakly through the thin curtains as Elian sat at the edge of his bed, the image of the girl and her whispered name burned into his mind. Sleep had escaped him once more. Every time he closed his eyes, the mirror's shimmer returned — like a beacon drawing him closer to something he couldn't yet understand.
Downstairs, the clatter of dishes and soft voices reminded him that life in this house moved steadily forward, even as he felt trapped in time's strange embrace.
His parents were downstairs, speaking in hushed tones. The strained calm between them was unmistakable. Though their voices were low, Elian could sense the weight beneath each word, the careful diplomacy masking deeper fears and regrets.
He didn't want to interrupt. Not yet.
Instead, he dressed quietly and stepped outside.
The air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and earth from the surrounding woods. The small town of Duskfield was waking slowly. Shops on Main Street were just beginning to open, their wooden signs creaking softly in the breeze. A few neighbors passed by, nodding politely but with eyes that seemed to carry secrets.
Elian's steps took him toward the old library, a building he'd visited often as a child. The brick facade was worn and covered in ivy, and the heavy wooden door groaned as he pushed it open.
Inside, the smell of aging paper and dust filled the air. The librarian, a woman with silver-streaked hair and sharp eyes, looked up and gave him a faint smile.
"Elian," she said softly. "You've been coming here a lot lately."
He nodded, unsure how to explain the strange pull that led him here again and again.
"I'm looking for information about Duskfield's history," he said finally. "About… things that might have been forgotten."
The librarian's eyes narrowed, then softened. "Sometimes the past is better left undisturbed," she said quietly, but her voice held a note of warning rather than dismissal.
Elian hesitated but pressed on.
"There's something… something connected to my family. Something I need to understand."
The librarian nodded slowly and led him to a dusty corner of the library. There, old newspapers and faded photographs lay piled in forgotten stacks.
Hours passed as Elian sifted through the fragile pages. Stories of missing people, strange disappearances, and whispered rumors of a tragedy long buried beneath Duskfield's peaceful surface. A name appeared repeatedly — "The Whitman Girl." A child who had vanished mysteriously decades ago.
Elian's breath caught.
The image from the mirror — the girl with the carved box — it all started to fit together.
As twilight settled over the town, Elian left the library, clutching a fragile photograph in his hand. The past was no longer just a shadow; it was alive, reaching out through time.
And Elian knew his journey had only just begun.