Gateway of shadows

Chapter 2: The Haunting in the Quarter

The air in New Orleans was heavier than usual. Thick with magic. The veil between the living and the dead was wearing thin like parchment held to a flame.

Elena stood at the edge of Jackson Square, where the iron fence creaked without wind. She watched a ghost girl with hollow eyes twirl in slow circles near the fountain-her dress soaked with spectral blood, her voice a lullaby no one else could hear.

"She's been stuck here since the fire in 1861," a voice said behind her.

Elijah.

He moved without sound, a blur of midnight coat and ancient eyes. There was a softness to the way he looked at her-like she was something fragile in a world built to break beautiful things.

"She's not the only one," Elena said quietly. "There are more every night. They're being pulled here."

"Or pushed."

They walked together toward the alley where the veil was thinnest. Elena could feel it-the tug in her chest, the echo of whispers. Ghosts usually just... drifted. But now they were hunting. Restless. Hungry.

"Why now?" she asked. "What changed?"

Elijah didn't answer right away. He crouched near a sigil burned into the stone-old magic. Dark. "This mark," he muttered, tracing it with one pale finger, "is a calling sigil. Blood-based. This isn't just natural thinning. Someone's summoning them."

Elena felt a chill creep up her spine. "You think it's him?"

"The Hollow was a nightmare," Elijah said. "This thing-Valek-is worse. He doesn't feed on blood. He feeds on the soul."

A low moan drifted from the shadows. A ghost shimmered into view-a man in a soldier's uniform, chest torn open, eyes wide in terror. Elena's heart clenched.

"They're scared of something on the Other Side," she said. "Whatever's coming... it's driving them out."

"Then we need to find it before it finds us."

⸻

That night, Elena returned to the old boarding house she now called home. It was run-down, overgrown, and covered in ivy-but it was hers. Safe. Or so she hoped.

The ghosts followed her home like shadows trailing the sun.

Jeremy's spirit was waiting on the porch.

"You're not sleeping again," he said. His voice wasn't quite solid. Not anymore. "Elena... you need rest."

"I rest when I stop seeing dead people," she muttered, stepping past him.

Jeremy followed her through the door. "That day's never coming, sis."

She paused at the doorway to the living room, the weight of it all settling on her. "What if we can't stop it? What if this thing already has a way through?"

Jeremy tilted his head, a sad smile playing on his lips. "Then you fight. Like you always have. Like Mom would've wanted."

"Don't do that," she whispered. "Don't use her memory like that."

"I'm not. She told me herself."

Elena froze.

Jeremy faded, his image flickering like a candle in wind.

"Wait-what do you mean?" she called out. "You talked to her?"

But he was gone.

And all that remained was the silence of the dead.

⸻

Later that night, Elijah showed up at her window, eyes stormy, jaw tight.

"We have a problem," he said.

"Another ghost?"

"No," he said grimly. "A witch. A living one. And she's been speaking with Valek."