The Omen of Shadows

  They say a house remembers.

  Every whisper uttered within its walls, every footstep that disturbs the dust, every moment of joy, pain, or terror—it lingers, unseen, unheard, until the time comes for it to resurface.

  Elias never believed in ghosts. Not in the way people spoke of them, with rattling chains or flickering candlelight. No, the things that haunted people weren’t always seen. Sometimes, they were felt—a wrongness in the air, a shadow that stretched just a little too far, a house that held its breath when no one was looking.

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  He didn’t know it yet, but the house he had just purchased wasn’t empty.

  It had never been empty.

  And soon, he would understand what it meant to live among the things that watch from the dark.