It's funny how quickly life can slip back into the rhythm of normalcy when you least expect it. The drive home from the Vancourt estate had felt like a journey from another lifetime, a world that no longer belonged to me. I told myself it would be easy to leave everything behind—the mansion, the ghosts, the curse. I told myself that I could rebuild, that we could rebuild.
But nothing was ever as simple as it seemed.
When we finally arrived home, the familiar creaks of our front door and the smell of dust settled around me like a blanket. It felt safe, in a way. But nothing felt truly safe anymore. Not after everything that had happened.
Kaius had been eerily quiet on the drive back, his eyes distant, his hands clenched tight in his lap. Amari, on the other hand, had slept through the entire trip, as though the world outside hadn't shifted beneath her feet. I envied her, honestly. Her innocence, her ability to find peace in the simplest of things, even after everything we'd been through.
The house felt the same. The same old couch, the same worn-out carpet in the hallway. But every step I took felt heavier, as if the weight of the past few weeks was pressing down on me. I tried to focus on the small things—dinner, laundry, the things that used to ground me. But there was always this gnawing feeling in the back of my mind, as if something wasn't quite right.
Kaius' behavior had become more erratic since we returned. At first, I thought it was just the trauma, the aftereffects of everything we'd endured. But now, I wasn't so sure. His eyes would dart around the room, as if he were seeing things that weren't there. At night, he'd mumble in his sleep—words I couldn't understand, phrases in a language that chilled me to the bone. And those drawings—those disturbing images—hadn't stopped either. He'd draw them on any scrap of paper he could find: dark, hollow-eyed figures, their faces twisted in agony.
It was like the curse had taken root in him, like a seed planted deep within, ready to grow.
One evening, as I tucked him into bed, he grabbed my wrist with surprising strength. His hands were clammy, his face pale.
"Mom," he whispered, his voice trembling, "they're still here. They follow us. They're watching me."
My heart clenched. I kissed his forehead, forcing a smile, though inside I was terrified.
"I know, sweetheart. I know. But we're safe now. You're safe. It's all over."
But as I pulled the blanket up to his chin, I saw the look in his eyes—a look I couldn't explain. It wasn't fear. It was something darker. A deep, empty sadness that I couldn't shake. I forced myself to leave the room, but even as I closed the door behind me, I couldn't shake the feeling that the darkness had followed us home.
I tried to convince myself that it was just residual fear, just the trauma of everything we'd gone through. But it wasn't that simple. I couldn't ignore the feeling of being watched, the sensation that something was lurking just outside the edges of my vision, waiting for the right moment to strike.
I stayed up late that night, sitting by the window in the dim light, staring out at the empty street. The wind rustled the trees outside, but it sounded different. Hollow. Like a warning.
My thoughts kept circling back to the mansion—the strange, oppressive atmosphere that had weighed down on us, the haunting visions, the spirits that had clung to every corner of the estate. I'd broken the curse, hadn't I? I had performed the ritual, I had freed us from the Vancourts' dark legacy. But something told me that we hadn't escaped it all. Not really.
There were days when I felt it—the brush of cold air on my skin, a whisper just out of reach, a flicker in the corner of my eye that vanished when I turned. I couldn't tell if I was imagining it, or if something—some evil—was still here with us.
It didn't help that the house had started to feel... different. The walls creaked more than they used to, and sometimes I'd hear faint footsteps when no one was around. I found myself looking over my shoulder more often, checking the corners of rooms as if expecting something to materialize out of thin air.
I didn't want to admit it, but I was scared. Scared that the curse hadn't truly been broken, that the Vancourt darkness had found a way to latch onto us, to seep into our lives even after the mansion had crumbled.
One night, I went into Kaius' room to check on him, only to find him sitting up in bed, his eyes wide open, staring at the wall.
"Mom," he whispered, his voice strained. "They're here. I can hear them."
I sat beside him, taking his hand. "Kaius, listen to me. It's okay. You're safe. There's nothing here."
But he shook his head. "They're everywhere, Mom. I can feel them. They're... they're inside me."
A chill ran down my spine. Could it be true? Could the curse have followed us, even after everything? Was this something I could never escape?
The sense of unease continued to grow. Every night, I lay awake, listening to the sounds of the house settling around us, wondering if we were truly free—or if the Vancourt curse had somehow infected us, turning our home into yet another place for the spirits to haunt.
And as the days passed, I began to understand the truth. There was no escaping the darkness. We might have left the mansion behind, but the curse had never really been bound. Not in the way I'd hoped.
And now, it seemed, the battle was only just beginning.