Page 48 of Ghoul Me, Maybe
The relic wasn’t just some enchanted coin, or ancient curse passed down like bad luggage. It was part of something bigger. Something older.
The fae created it.
Before the peace. Before even the First Sundering. It was a test—an experiment in what they called “anchored consciousness.” They wanted to bind memory to object. Soul to stone. So they made it. A relic that could remember for you. Carry grief for you. Keep the parts of you too painful to bear.
But it worked too well.
The first subject didn’t just lose his pain—he lost himself. Became a ghost with nothing but rage and habit. He murdered his own kin and never understood why. The fae tried to destroy it, but by then it had learned how to hide. It fell through centuries, passing hands, always seeking someone to latch onto.
And then it found Elias.
He was already broken when it touched him. Haunted by betrayal, grief. Easy prey.
I tried to unbind him. Gods, I tried. But to sever the relic from him would’ve meant sacrificing him entirely. And I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t strong enough.
So I locked it away.
I lied to you. To everyone. Told them I was hunting treasure, chasing myths. But it was always about this.
And now it’s yours.
I’m sorry, Sienna. I wanted to protect you. But I think I only delayed the damage.
If you’re reading this… you might be the only one left who can stop it.
You have his heart.
Use it wisely.
—Dad
I sit there for a long time.
Long enough for the light to change. For the sun to dip low. For the salt air to press hard into my lungs like I forgot how to breathe without it.
The letter’s still trembling in my hand.
Elias didn’t just die near the relic.
Heisit.
Or part of it.
Bound by something fae-made and ancient and absolutely not meant for mortal hands.
I wipe my eyes with the back of my wrist. I’m not crying. Not exactly. It’s more like my face forgot how to hold still.
“You son of a bitch,” I mutter to the letter. “Youcould’vetold me.”
But I know why he didn’t.
Because I would've tried to save Elias, too.
And maybe I’d still have made the same choice.
There’s a creak behind me.
Boots on old wood.
