DAGON MANSION

CHAPTER NINE: DESOLATE

That night, Ryan could not sleep. The weight of his thoughts pressed against his chest like a stone. The memory of Mia's body, of her warmth and surrender, still clung to his skin like the ghost of a forbidden flame. He turned in bed, restless, disgusted with himself.

He knew he had made a mistake — one that could not continue.
Eliza. Tabitha. Even Terra. Each woman had approached him, and each had fallen into ruin. Their hearts, their minds, fractured after loving him. Was he cursed, or merely weak enough to become an instrument of some darker will that haunted him since Forestvale burned?

Mia could not become another victim of that fate.

The following morning, Theolinda Brady came to see him. She carried with her the pale fatigue of one who had seen too much. Her voice trembled slightly as she recounted what had happened between Jake Rogers and his boyfriend — and the brutal consequences that followed.

"I went to his cell this morning," she said. "You need to hear this, Ryan."

Ryan nodded. Theolinda unlocked her phone and played the recording.
A distorted, guttural voice emerged — a tone that was almost human but far too ancient in its cruelty.

When the audio ended, Ryan's face had turned ashen.

"That voice," he whispered. "It's the same presence that haunted Forestvale Manor. The Consciousness. It has possessed Rogers."

Theolinda shivered. "What can we do? Should we call an exorcist?"

"I know someone," Ryan replied. "Rowena Ellington. She's the only one I trust with something like this."

That afternoon, Ryan made another call — one he dreaded far more.

Mia was already at the airport, her luggage beside her, the hum of engines filling the distance. When she answered, her tone was light, unguarded.

"Ryan," she said, smiling into the receiver. "It's good to hear from you. Have you already missed me?"

Ryan hesitated. Then his voice hardened.
"Mia, we have to forget about what happened last night."

Her hand froze in midair. "What?"

"I shouldn't have touched you," he said quietly. "I wasn't honest with you. I'm in love with someone else."

The words sliced through her like a blade. For a moment, Mia couldn't breathe. The world around her blurred — the sound of the airport, the voices, the life — it all vanished into a single point of pain.

"Are you saying you regret it?" she asked. Her voice trembled, almost breaking.

Ryan closed his eyes. "Yes. We can only see each other for Scarlett. I was weak. You're a beautiful woman, Mia, but it must never happen again."

Her throat constricted. Tears stung her eyes. "Go to hell, Ryan," she hissed, and hung up.

Ryan stared at the silent receiver. His reflection in the dark glass looked almost like another man — pale, hollow, haunted.

"I am already in hell," he murmured. "Being without you is punishment enough."

On the plane, Mia sat rigid in her seat, her nails digging into her palms.
She fought to breathe, to steady herself, to stop the trembling that coursed through her body. At last, the tears came silently — a storm she couldn't contain. When exhaustion finally dulled the pain, she closed her eyes and prayed that Scarlett's small arms would be the anchor that pulled her back to herself.

The next day, Theolinda found herself before a small shop she had never noticed before, though she had walked this street countless times.

A sign above the door read ROWENA'S WORLD.

She entered hesitantly. Inside, the air was thick with scents of cinnamon, myrrh, and something darker — a whisper of old incense and forgotten prayers. Her skin glowed like polished mahogany, unlined by years or mercy.

"Welcome to Rowena's World," she said. "How can I help you?"

Theolinda smiled faintly. "Are you Rowena?"

"Yes. And you must be...?"

"Theolinda Brady."

Rowena's eyes brightened with recognition. "The detective. I hope you're not here because of a crime."

"No," Theolinda said softly. "Ryan Dagon sent me. I need... an exorcism."

Rowena's expression grew grave. "Then we'll begin at once."

A few days later, Rowena visited Rogers under the guise of a psychologist.

Theolinda waited in the corridor, pacing. Rogers had grown calmer, almost lucid — but still, something in his eyes flickered like a dying flame.

After half an hour, Rowena emerged. Her face was composed, but her gaze betrayed concern.

"I have good news and bad," she said.

"Tell me both," Theolinda replied.

"The good news — he's free. The consciousness has released him. There are traces left, but the possession is broken."

Theolinda sighed in relief. "And the bad?"

Rowena's voice dropped to a whisper. "We don't know where the consciousness has gone. Someone else in town is carrying it now — and we have no idea who."