The Crimson Creek Curse

Chapter 11: The Ancient Text

The atmosphere in Mrs. Willow's kitchen had shifted, growing tenser with the arrival of the mysterious man. His presence filled the room with an eerie stillness that seemed to absorb all sound, as though the very air held its breath in anticipation. The dim light cast shadows over his face, hiding much of his expression, but Carter could see his eyes—dark, unwavering, and filled with a knowledge that neither he nor Mrs. Willow possessed.

Mrs. Willow stood rooted in place, her frail hands clutching the doorframe for support. "You know how to stop it?" she asked, her voice trembling. She sounded desperate, as though the mere idea of an end to the terror was almost too much to believe.

The man stepped forward, slowly, deliberately. The fog that had clung to him like a second skin seemed to curl and disperse as he entered the room, revealing more of his features—a face weathered by time and shadowed with secrets. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and his dark coat flared slightly with each movement. There was something ancient about him, something not entirely of this world.

Carter narrowed his eyes, instinctively stepping closer to Mrs. Willow as he sized up the stranger. "Who are you?" he demanded. "And how do you know how to stop it?"

The man's gaze flickered to Carter, and for a moment, the weight of that stare made Carter feel as though he were being scrutinized, judged even. But the stranger's face betrayed no emotion. When he finally spoke, his voice was deep, measured, and laced with a faint accent that Carter couldn't quite place.

"My name is Elias," he said simply. "I've been tracking the entity for years."

The revelation sent a chill down Carter's spine. "Tracking it? So... it's not just in Crimson Creek?"

Elias shook his head, his expression grim. "The entity is ancient, far older than this town. It has claimed many places, many lives. But it always returns here. There is something about this land, about that mill, that binds it."

Mrs. Willow, still shaken, slowly moved back to her chair and sat down. "The mill..." she echoed, her voice trailing off. "What happened there? What is it that we don't know?"

Elias took a deep breath, as though preparing to reveal a truth that had been buried for centuries. He reached into his coat and pulled out a small, leather-bound book—old, its pages yellowed and fragile. He placed it on the table with a soft thud, and both Carter and Mrs. Willow leaned forward, their eyes wide with curiosity and dread.

"This," Elias began, tapping the book with a gloved finger, "is an ancient text—older than any of the records you've found, Mrs. Willow. It details the origins of the entity, its purpose, and how it can be stopped. But it comes with a warning."

Carter's heartbeat quickened. "What warning?"

Elias's dark eyes met his, and the weight of his words seemed to fill the room like a leaden fog. "Stopping the entity comes at a cost—a great cost. Those who try to seal it away must be willing to make sacrifices. The rituals are dangerous, and if performed incorrectly, they could make the entity even more powerful."

Mrs. Willow's hand trembled as she reached for the book. She opened it gingerly, as though afraid the pages might disintegrate at her touch. The text was written in a strange, archaic language that neither Carter nor Mrs. Willow could recognize.

"It's in an old dialect," Elias explained, watching her carefully. "One that I've spent years studying. I can translate it for you, but I need you to understand—this is not a simple banishing. The entity is tied to the very soul of this town. It feeds on fear, on the suffering of its people. That's why it's been so active since Sarah Miller's death. The more chaos, the stronger it becomes."