Ada's dark eyes held mine with quiet intensity. "You need to decide," she said softly.
"Decide what?" I whispered.
"If you're willing to finish what Helen started."
The journal felt heavy in my lap, Helen's careful handwriting etched across the worn pages like whispers from a forgotten time. My heart thudded painfully against my ribs as Ada's words settled over me like a cold shadow.
Finish what Helen started.
"She didn't tell me," I said, my voice shaking. "She never said anything about the river or… Keepers."
Ada's gaze softened. "Because she was trying to protect you."
I shook my head. "But why me? Why now?"
"Because Helen's death left a gap," Ada said quietly. "The river knows. And now it's reaching for you."
I stood abruptly, the journal slipping from my hands and landing on the floor with a dull thud. My breath was sharp and shallow.
"I can't do this," I said. "I don't know how to… be a Keeper. I didn't even know any of this existed until tonight!"
"You don't have a choice anymore," Ada said calmly.
My hands curled into fists at my sides. "There's always a choice."
Ada's gaze sharpened. "Not when it comes to the river."
I opened my mouth to argue, but the floor beneath my feet trembled slightly—a low, rhythmic vibration, like the sound of distant rushing water beneath the boards. A chill crept up my spine.
My gaze shifted toward the window. Through the thin glass, the river glinted beneath the moonlight. The current looked darker now, more alive somehow.
"It's calling to you," Ada said.
I turned back toward her. "Why me?"
Ada's eyes darkened. "Because you're Helen's blood."
A sickening weight settled in my stomach. "But I'm not. Helen wasn't my real mother."
"She didn't need to be," Ada said. "She raised you. Loved you. The river recognized that bond."
My heart twisted painfully. "And if I don't accept it?"
Ada's gaze sharpened. "Then the river will find another way. It will take from you until it gets what it wants."
My breath hitched. "What does it want?"
Ada replied "A sacrifice."
A sharp chill swept through me.
My mind flashed to Christian his distance, his strange behavior. How he'd been disappearing for hours at a time. How his smile hadn't reached his eyes in months.
My chest tightened painfully. "It's already taken something from me, hasn't it?"
Ada's gaze softened. "It's started."
I sat down hard on the couch, my head in my hands. My pulse raced painfully in my ears.
"How do I stop it?" I whispered.
Ada's eyes softened. "You take Helen's place."
I looked up at her. "As a Keeper?"
"Yes."
"And if I fail?"
Ada's jaw tightened. "Then you lose more than just Christian."
The floor beneath us trembled slightly again, a low pulse that seemed to throb in my chest.
"How do I know this isn't a mistake?" I asked.
Ada stepped toward me. "You don't."
I closed my eyes. My mind screamed to run, to forget all of this. To lock the door and never look back.
But the sound beneath the floorboards grew louder, like the pulse of a living thing.
Helen had protected me from this my whole life. And now she was gone.
Christian was next.
I opened my eyes. My fingers brushed across the journal's worn cover.
"I'll do it," I said quietly.
Ada's expression didn't change. "You're sure?"
"No," I said. "But I can't lose him."
Ada's gaze sharpened. "Then you need to understand something, Elizabeth."
I swallowed hard. "What?"
"Being a Keeper means sacrifice."
My heart thudded painfully. "What kind of sacrifice?"
Ada's expression darkened. "Blood."
A sharp knock at the door made both of us stiffen.
My head whipped toward the sound. My breath caught painfully in my throat.
A second knock—louder this time.
"Elizabeth…"
My heart hammered painfully in my chest.
It was Christian's voice.
Ada's eyes widened. "Don't open it."
"But it's him," I whispered. "He's home."
Ada's hand shot out and grabbed my wrist.
"That's not Christian."
Elizabeth asked "How do you know?"
Ada's expression was grave. "Because the river doesn't let go once it's touched someone."
Another knock.
"Elizabeth," the voice called. "Please. It's me."
My knees felt weak. I stumbled toward the door, my heart slamming painfully against my ribs.
"Elizabeth, open the door!"
Ada's grip on my wrist tightened. "It's not him."
Tears stung my eyes. My hand hovered inches from the knob.
A final knock.
And then
"Elizabeth."
It was Helen's voice.
My entire body went still. My breath came in shallow gasps.
Ada's eyes flashed with fear. "Don't"
My hand trembled over the doorknob. My mind screamed that it couldn't be her. That it wasn't possible.
But I knew that voice.
Helen.
"Elizabeth," the voice repeated, calm and soft. Just like I remembered.
Ada's voice sharpened. "It's not her."
Tears slipped down my cheeks. My fingers brushed the knob.
Ada's hand shot out and slammed against the door, pinning it shut. Her eyes were fierce and steady. "If you open that door," she said quietly, "you'll never see the light again."
The silence that followed was deafening.
My hand fell to my side, trembling. My breath came in shallow bursts.
The voice beyond the door faded.
Ada's grip on my arm loosened. "It's already trying to pull you in," she whispered.
I backed away from the door, my legs shaking beneath me.
"What now?" I whispered.
Ada's expression hardened. "We will go to the river tomorrow for now sleep"
My chest squeezed painfully.
Ada's dark gaze sharpened. "We will save Christian"
A low rumble echoed through the floorboards. The river was stirring beneath us.