THE CEMETERY AT NIGHT

Chapter 7: The Hidden Truth

Grace stepped into Lydia's house, the familiar scent of old books and forgotten secrets enveloping her like a shroud. The atmosphere was heavy with an unshakeable sense of dread, amplified by the news of Lydia's tragic death. She had come to search for clues, hoping to uncover what had led to her friend's untimely demise.

"Lydia?" she called softly, her voice echoing in the stillness. The silence swallowed her words, sending a chill down her spine. She took a deep breath, steeling herself against the growing unease. If Sami and Hawthorne were already here, they would know what to do. But she had to find them—time was of the essence.

As she made her way through the dimly lit rooms, her heart raced with each creak of the floorboards. She paused in the living room, where she spotted Lydia's extensive collection of folklore books, their spines worn from years of study. "What were you trying to tell me, Lydia?" Grace whispered to herself.

Suddenly, a loud, desperate thud reverberated through the house, causing Grace to jump. The sound came from the basement, followed by frantic pounding. Her heart leaped into her throat. "Sami? Hawthorne?" she shouted, rushing toward the door at the end of the hall.

As she reached the basement door, another series of kicks echoed from within, louder and more insistent. Panic surged through her. "Hang on! I'm coming!" Grace yelled, grabbing the doorknob and twisting it. It was locked.

"Grace! We're down here!" Sami's voice called out, tinged with urgency. "We're trapped! Can you open the door?"

"I'll try!" she shouted back, scrambling to find something to pry the door open. Her fingers fumbled over the old furniture in the hallway, finally landing on a metal candlestick. She wedged it into the crack of the door, pushing with all her strength.

"Grace, be careful!" Hawthorne warned from the other side, but she was already too far gone, fueled by adrenaline and fear.

With a sharp grunt, she pressed against the candlestick, the wood of the door groaning in protest. Just as she felt it begin to give way, the sound of chanting floated up from the basement, a haunting melody that sent chills down her spine.

"What is that?" she murmured, heart racing.

"Don't listen to it!" Sami shouted. "It's part of whatever is going on down here!"

The door finally gave way with a splintering crack, and Grace tumbled into the basement. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows against the walls, revealing Sami and Hawthorne, their expressions a mix of relief and fear.

"Thank God you're here!" Sami exclaimed, brushing dust from his clothes. "We thought we were stuck forever."

"What happened? Why didn't you wait for me?" Grace asked, quickly scanning the dimly lit room. The makeshift altar stood ominously in the center, surrounded by strange symbols that pulsed with a faint light.

"We found this place," Hawthorne explained, gesturing to the altar. "But then the door slammed shut behind us, and we couldn't get it open. It's as if something wanted us trapped down here."

Just then, the chanting intensified, drowning out their voices. Grace felt a shiver run down her spine as she turned to the altar. The open book at its center glowed ominously, the symbols shifting on the page as if alive.

"What is that?" she whispered, stepping closer.

"It's a ritual book," Sami said, eyes wide with understanding. "It connects to the practices Lydia was studying. She must have been trying to stop something... or someone."

"Look!" Hawthorne pointed. "There's a section about a binding ritual. It mentions a sacrifice—"

Before he could finish, the shadows in the room shifted, and a chilling wind swept through, extinguishing the candles. Darkness enveloped them, the chanting echoing like a distant storm.