Speaker 1: Caleroga Shark Media.
Speaker 2: Hello and welcome to Romance Weekly. This episode is titled
Whispers in the Dark, Part four Resurrection.
Speaker 1: There's a particular intimacy to digging up the grave of
the man you love. Each shovelful of earth feels like
a violation, yet also like an act of devotion. By
the time I reached Alexander's coffin, the moon had risen
high above Blackwood estate, casting long shadows across the small
family cemetery. I had waited until nightfall, unwilling to risk
being seen. The sheriff was already suspicious after the break in.
Explaining why I was excavating a century old grave would
be impossible. I worked by lantern light, the autumn air
cold enough to cloud my breath as I carefully cleared
the dirt from the coffin lid. It was well preserved,
solid oak with brass fittings. The wood darkened with age,
but still intact. My hands trembled as I pried it open,
knowing I was about to see the physical remains of
the man whose touch I'd memorized, whose voice had become
my refuge in this haunted place. The coffin creaked open,
revealing a skeleton dressed in the tattered remains of a
formal suit. The skull was turned slightly to one side,
as if Alexander was watching my approach, even in death.
Around his neck hung a small key on a corroded chain,
and clutched in his skeletal hands a leather pouch. I'm sorry,
I whispered, as I carefully extracted the pouch from his
bony fingers. I need this to save you. Inside was
exactly what Alexander had promised, a book bound in what
looked like ancient vellum, its pages covered in spidery, Latin
text and strange diagrams, the medieval manuscript he'd discovered in France,
the source of his knowledge about the entity. I was
replacing the coffin lid when I heard it, a twig
snapping somewhere behind me. I whirled around, the lantern light
swinging wildly, illuminating a figure at the edge of the cemetery.
A woman elderly dressed in dark clothing, the same woman
who had appeared in my library to warn me. You
found it, she said, her voice carrying clearly in the
night air. Good who are you, I demanded, clutching the
manuscript to my chest. What do you want? She approached slowly,
her movements more fluid than seemed natural for someone her age.
My name is Margaret Holloway. I've been watching this house
and you since you arrived. The name struck a chord. Holloway,
like the estate attorney who gave me the keys, my grandson,
she confirmed, he doesn't know what I know what my
family has known for generations. She stopped at the edge
of the grave, looking down at Alexander's exposed coffin with
an unreadable expression. You knew him, I said, It wasn't
a question I knew of him. She corrected. My grandmother
was connected to this place and to what happened here.
She passed the knowledge down, the responsibility to watch, to
wait for what. Margaret's eyes sharp despite her age, fixed
on mine, for you, miss Morgan, for the one who
would come to either finish what Alexander Blackwood started or
undo it. In highly, I clutched the manuscript more tightly.
And how am I supposed to know which to do?
A sad smile touched her lips. That's the question, isn't it.
The entity offers tempting gifts Alexander himself was tempted, though
he ultimately chose to fight it. You know about the entity,
I said about what's happening in the house. I know
enough to recognize the danger. My grandmother kept journals of
her own. She was here the knight Alexander died, or
at least nearby. She heard things, saw things enough to
know that something terrible had been unleashed, something only partially contained.
A chill that had nothing to do with the autumn
air ran through me. Who killed him? Your grandmother must
have known. Margaret's expression tightened. That's a complicated question. The
hand that held the knife belonged to Alexander's research partner,
a man named James Sullivan, But the will behind the hand,
she glanced meaningfully at the manuscript. The entity, I whispered
it possessed him, So my grandmother believed. Sullivan disappeared that
same night. His body was found months later, washed up
on the shore miles from here. By then, the entity
was already bound to the estate, though not as completely
as Alexander had intended. I thought of Alexander's warning of
the entity's offer. It wants me to complete the ritual,
to be its vessel. Of course it does, Margaret said grimly.
It's been waiting a century for someone with the right
connection to this place, to Alexander. Why me, why now?
Margaret gestured toward the open grave. That manuscript contains the answer.
But we don't have much time. The entity knows you've
found it. It will act soon, she held out her hand.
Come back to my home. It's safe there, protected by
wards my grandmother created. You can study the text without
the entity's interference, I hesitated. Could I trust this woman
who had appeared so mysteriously, who seemed to know so
much about what was happening? Alexander told me not to
trust anyone, I said. Her smile was knowing wise advice.
But ask yourself this, If I meant you harm, why
warn you at all? Why not simply let the entity
have what it wants? She had a point. And the
manuscript was heavy in my hands, its age and complexity
beyond my ability to decipher quickly on my own. What
about Alexander, I asked. I promised to return by dawn.
Dawn is hours away, Margaret said, And Alexander Blackwood has
waited a hundred years. He can wait a few more hours.
Decision made. I helped her refill the grave, restoring it
as best we could in the darkness. Then I followed
her through the woods to a small cottage about a
mile from the estate. The contrast with Blackwood's imposing presence
couldn't have been more striking. This place was humble, welcoming,
with smoke curling from the chimney and warm light glowing
in the windows. Inside. Margaret directed me to a table
covered with books and papers. My grandmother's research, she explained,
and my mother's and mine, three generations trying to understand
what happened at Blackwood Estate and how to stop it
from happening again. I laid the manuscript carefully on the table.
You said, the entity wants me because of my connection
to alexand under what did you mean? Margaret busied herself
making tea her back to me. The ritual the entity
wants to complete requires a particular kind of vessel. Someone
with a natural affinity for liminal spaces, the boundaries between worlds.
Someone who can perceive beyond ordinary reality, like a psychic.
I asked more specific than that. She placed a steaming
mug in front of me. Someone whose consciousness resonates with
Alexander's own, a compatible energy. You might say, a soulmate,
I said quietly. Margaret's expression softened. That's one way to
put it. My grandmother believed Alexander had been searching for
such a person in his lifetime, someone who could help
him complete his work with the entity safely. He never
found them until now, I whispered until me. Perhaps she
sat across from me, or perhaps the entity has created
the illusion of such a connection to manipulate you both.
I thought of Alexander's touch, of the intensity between us,
of his final words before I woke this morning, I
have loved you across time itself. That truth cannot be undone, no,
I said, with certainty. What's between us is real. The
entity may have facilitated it somehow, may be using it
for its own purposes, but it didn't create it. Margaret
studied me for a long moment, then nodded. If that's true,
it changes things. It means you have power in this situation,
power the entity may not fully understand. We turned our
attention to the manuscript. The text was in medieval Latin,
with sections in what looked like ancient Greek and even
older languages I couldn't identify. Margaret's knowledge was impressive. She
had studied classical languages, she explained, specifically to decipher her
grandmother's notes and the fragments of information they had gathered
over the decades. Together, we pieced together the key elements.
The entity was indeed ancient, predating human civilization. It existed
primarily in what the text called the void between worlds,
but could manifest partially under certain conditions. It fed on
specific human energies fear, desire, and most potently, the life
force released at the moment of death. Alexander's ritual was
designed to bind it within the estate, Margaret explained, pointing
to a complex diagram in the manuscript, to create a
closed loop where it could exist without access to human consciousness.
But Sullivan, or the entity working through him, altered the
ritual at the critical moment by killing Alexander. I said, yes,
the sacrifice created a different kind of binding, one that
tethered the entity to the estate, but allowed it limited
access to human minds within its boundaries, and it bound
Alexander's consciousness as well, trapping him in that same liminal space.
That's why he can reach me in dreams, I realized,
because we're both existing partly in that space between worlds.
Margaret nodded, exactly, And that's what gives you power. You
have a foot in both worlds, just as Alexander does.
The entity can't completely control either of you. So how
do we break the binding, free Alexander and contain the entity?
Margaret's expression turned brave. That's the problem. According to this text,
the most effective way would be to reverse the original ritual,
to sacrifice the vessel the entity has chosen me, I
said flatly, you. I sat back, my tea forgotten. There
has to be another way. Margaret turned pages in the manuscript,
her finger tracing lines of text there might be. Alexander's
notes in the margins suggest he was developing an alternative approach,
a way to use the connection between compatible consciousnesses to
create a different kind of binding. What kind of binding,
one that would use the energy of life than death,
creation rather than destruction. She tapped a section covered in
Alexander's handwriting. He theorized that the correct pair of minds,
properly aligned, could generate enough energy to force the entity
back into the void and seal the breach without sacrifice.
Hope flared within me. Alexander and I could do that, possibly,
But there's a catch. Margaret's eyes met mine, serious and sad.
The ritual would require both participants to be fully present
in the same reality. Alexander is trapped between worlds. For
this to work, he would need to cross over completely,
I finished for her, become fully a ghost or fully
alive again. Yes, the implications hung in the air between us.
For Alexander to help me banish the entity, he would
have to either let go of his remaining connection to
the physical world, meaning we could never touch again, even
in dreams, or somehow return to life. Is that even possible?
I asked for him to return. Margaret hesitated. There are
references in the text to something called the exchange, a
process by which a consciousness trapped in the void might
return to physical form, but it requires a vacancy. Someone
else would have to die, I said, understanding immediately, or
crossover willingly into the void. Margaret's gaze was steady, someone
with the right kind of consciousness, a compatible energy. The
room seemed to tilt around me as I grasped what
she was suggesting me. I would have to take his place.
It's a possibility the text describes, not one I would recommend.
My mind raised. There had to be a third option
away for both Alexander and me to exist in the
same reality without either of us being trapped. What about
the entity itself, I asked, Suddenly, it exists between worlds.
It has energy, consciousness of its own. Margaret's eyes widened slightly.
You're suggesting using the entity as the exchange medium, forcing
it to take Alexander's place in the void while he
returns to physical form. Is it possible? She turned back
to the manuscript, flipping pages frantically. I don't know. The
text doesn't specifically address it, but theoretically, if the entity's
essence could be captured contained. At the moment of the exchange,
a clock somewhere in the cottage chimed three times. Dawn
was approaching. I had to return to Blackwood Estate before
the entity realized what we were planning. I need to go,
I said, standing Alexander is waiting. Margaret grabbed my wrist.
Wait this is dangerous, Elise. If you attempt this exchange
using the entity, you'll be risking everything. It could consume
you both, or worse, it could escape completely. Unbound by
any constraints. What's the alternative, Let it use me as
a vessel, sacrifice myself to free Alexander. Neither of those
options is acceptable. Her grip tightened. There's another possibility. Leave,
walk away from Blackwood Estate and never return. The entity
remains bound, Alexander remains as he is, and you live
your life. The thought had occurred to me briefly, to
simply walk away, return to my ordinary existence in the city,
but the mere suggestion felt like a blade twisting in
my chest. I can't, I said, simply, I won't abandon him.
Margaret released my wrist with a sigh. Then let me
help you prepare. If you're determined to attempt this, you'll
need protection. She gathered items from around the cottage, herbs, candles,
a small silver knife, a vial of what looked like water,
but which she assured me was much more. She explained
each element of the ritual we would need to perform,
making me repeat the key phrases until I had them memorized.
The timing is crucial, she emphasized. The exchange must occur
at the liminal moment, when night becomes day dawn. I nodded,
committing everything to memory. As I prepared to leave, manuscript
and ritual components carefully packed in a bag, Margaret pressed
one final item into my hand, a small, ancient looking
amulet on a silver chain, my grandmother's protection. She said.
It won't stop the entity entirely, but it might give
you the edge you need. I slipped it around my neck,
feeling a warmth spread from it through my body. Thank
you for everything. Her smile was sad. Don't thank me yet.
What you're attempting. I've never seen it done. I don't
know if it's possible. It has to be, I said,
with more confidence than I felt for Alexander. The walk
back to Blackwood Estate seemed both endless and too brief.
The eastern sky was beginning to lighten, almost imperceptibly, by
the time I reached the house. I entered quietly, half
expecting to find the entity waiting for me, but the
foyer was empty, the house silent. I made my way
to the master bedroom, my footsteps echoing on the hardwood floors.
The room was cold when I entered, colder than it
should have been, even in an old house in autumn.
My breath clouded in front of me. Alexander, I called softly.
At first nothing, then a shimmer in the air near
the window, a gradual coalescence into the form I knew
so well. But Alexander looked different, weaker, more transparent, his
edges blurring into the darkness around him. Elise, he said,
his voice faint with relief. I feared you wouldn't return.
I promised I would. I approached him, slowly, distressed by
his diminished state. What's happened to you? The entity? He said,
his form flickering like a candle in a draft. It's
draining me, preparing to absorb what remains of my consciousness.
If you ref fuse its offer, anger flared hot within me.
It won't have either of us, I vowed. I found
the manuscript, Alexander, and I've found a way to free you,
to free us, both Hope and fear Ward in his expression,
how I explained what Margaret and I had discovered, the
possibility of using the entity itself as the exchange medium.
As I spoke, his form seemed to strengthen slightly, Hope
providing what little energy he had left. It's risky, he said,
when I finished. If it fails, I know I reached
for his hand, but mine passed through his with only
the faintest sensation of cold. His form had degraded too
much for even our usual dream contact. But it's our
only chance to be together, truly together. Alexander moved to
the window, looking out at the gradually lightning sky. To
be alive again, he murmured, to feel the sun, the wind,
to touch you with real hands. He turned back to me,
determination replacing doubt. What do we need to do? I
unpacked the ritual components Margaret had provided, arranging them according
to her instructions. Candles at the four corners of the room,
herbs burned in a small brazier. The silver knife laid
carefully on the bed between us. The entity will come
at dawn, I said, When I don't give it the
answer at once, we need to be ready. Alexander nodded,
watching as I made the final preparations. Elise, he said quietly.
If this doesn't work, if something happens to me, I
want you to run leave this house and never return.
Promise me. I looked up at him, at the man
I'd impossibly, irrationally fallen in love with across the span
of a century. No I said, simply, if this fails,
we fail together. I'm not leaving you to that thing.
He looked as if he wanted to argue, but the
increasing light through the windows warned us that time was
running short. We took our positions on either side of
the bed, the ritual components between us. Remember, I said,
when the entity appears, let me speak, let it think
I'm surrendering. Until the exact moment of dawn. Alexander's form
flickered again, but his eyes remained steady on mine. I
love you, Elise Morgan, across time, across worlds, against all reason.
I love you, and I love you, I whispered, back
in this life or any other. The air in the
room grew heavier, the temperature dropping further. Frost formed on
the windowpanes, spreading in intricate patterns across the glass. The
candle flames stretched tall, then shrank to bare pinpricks of light.
It was coming. The entity manifested first as a darkness
deeper than the shadows in the corners of the room,
then gradually took shape the same shifting, unstable form I
had seen in the dream space, sometimes resembling the elderly woman,
sometimes a young man, sometimes something not human at all.
Your time is up, Elise Morgan, it said, its voice,
echoing as if coming from multiple throats at once. What
is your answer? I stepped forward, careful to stay within
the boundary of candles. I'll do it, I said, my voice,
steady despite my racing heart. I'll be your vessel. Alexander
made a sound of protest, playing his part perfectly. The
entity's attention flickered to him briefly, then back to me.
A wise decision, it said, satisfaction evident in its tone,
and a useless charade. Before I could react, the entity
moved faster than thought. It was suddenly within the candle boundary,
Its burning gaze fixed on me. Did you think I
wouldn't know what you planned? That I couldn't sense the
ritual preparations, the energy you've gathered, it gestured, and the
candles went out simultaneously. The herbs in the brazier stopped burning.
The knife on the bed rusted before my eyes, crumbling
to dust. I've existed for millennia, it continued, circling me slowly.
I've witnessed every form of bin banishing and bargaining humans
can conceive did you truly believe you'd discovered something new?
I backed away until I hit the wall, my confidence evaporating.
Alexander tried to move toward me, but the entity made
another gesture and he doubled over in pain, his form
destabilizing further. Stop, I pleaded, don't hurt him. The entity's
smile was terrible to behold. Then, fulfill your end of
our bargain. Be my vessel willingly, no tricks, no reservations.
I looked at Alexander, at his fading form, at the
anguish in his eyes, not for himself, but for me.
The amulet Margaret had given me felt warm against my skin,
a reminder that I wasn't entirely defenseless. And outside, the
sky continued to lighten. Dawn was moments away. All right,
I said, straightening, I'll do it properly this time. The
entity approached, its burning gaze, intent on mine. Say the words,
Alise Morgan, invite me in. I took a deep breath,
feeling the amulet grow warmer. I Elise Morgan, open myself
to you. I offer my consciousness as your vessel in
this world. The entity's form seemed to expand with anticipation.
It reached for me with hands that constantly shifted shape.
I invite you to join with me. I continued, the
memorized words, flowing smoothly, but as the entity's hands touched
my face, I changed the final phrase, speaking words Margaret
had taught me instead of what the entity expected in
the exchange of consciousness, freely given and freely taken. The
entity froze, recognition, dawning in its burning eyes. Nope, but
it was too late. The first ray of dawn broke
through the window, striking the amulet at my throat. It
flared with sudden brilliance, and I felt power surge through me,
not my own, but something older, something Margaret's grandmother had
prepared a century ago for exactly this moment. I grabbed
the entity's wrists, holding it in place as I spoke
the final words of the alternative ritual. By the power
of creation, not destruction, I bind you to the void
and release what you have taken. The exchange is complete.
The entity screamed a sound like mountains crumbling, like oceans boiling.
It tried to pull away, but the amulet's power held
it fast. Its form began to dissolve, streaming toward Alexander
in ribbons of dark energy. Alexander's body, his ghost, his consciousness,
whatever remained of him, began to glow. He looked at
me in wonder and terror as the exchange began. Elise,
he gasped, what's happening the exchange, I said, still gripping
the struggling entity. It's working, Alexander hold on. The entity
fought violently, now, its form tearing at mine, clawing at
the amulet. Pains seared through me, but I held fast,
repeating the words of binding. As dawn filled the room
with golden light, Alexander's form grew more solid with each
passing second, the transparency giving way to substance. At the
same time, the entity diminished, its power, draining away, pulled
into the void created by Alexander's emergence. It's hurting you,
Alexander said, watching in horror as the entity's struggles left
burning marks on my skin. It doesn't matter, I gritted out,
just a little longer. The room filled with wind, with light,
with a sound like the ringing of enormous bells. The
entity gave one final desperate pull, and the amulet at
my throat shattered. For a terrible moment, I felt the
entity's full consciousness pressing against mine, seeking entry. Then Alexander
was there, solid and real, his hands covering mine where
they still gripped the entity's dissolving wrists. Not her, he said,
his voice resonant with power. You've held me for a century.
Now I release myself and bind you in my place.
The entity convulsed, caught between us, between the physical world
and the void. Alexander's eyes met mine over its writhing form,
and in that moment I understood what he was doing. No,
I whispered, We're supposed to exchange it, not you. His
smile was sad but determined. There must be balance, elise
a consciousness for a consciousness. It was always going to
be this way, Alexander, don't, but he had already made
his decision with a strength that could only come from
a century of determination. He pulled the entity away from me,
wrapping his now solid arms around its chaotic form. I
love you, he said, his eyes never leaving mine. Find
me again, and then they were both gone. Alexander and
the entity vanished in a final flash of light, as
the dawn filled the room completely. I fell to my knees,
the sudden silence deafening after the chaos of the ritual.
The room looked ordinary in the morning light, just an
old bedroom in an old house. No sign remained of
the entity of Alexander, of the battle that had just occurred,
except there on the floor where Alexander had stood in
that final moment. A small object gleamed in the sunlight.
I crawled toward it, my body aching from the entity's assault.
It was the key, the one I had seen around
the skeleton's neck in the coffin. Somehow it had made
the transition with him from death to life and back
to wherever he was now. I clutched it to my chest,
tears streaming down my face. He had saved me, saved
the world from the entity's influence, but at what cost.
The house felt different, lighter somehow, as if a weight
had been lifted from its very foundations. The oppressive presence
that had lingered in the shadows was gone. The entity
was bound properly. This time. Alexander had completed what he
had started a century ago. But he was gone too,
truly gone. No ghost remained to visit my dreams. No
presence lingered in the corners of the rooms, just memories
and a key with no lock. I don't know how
long I sat there on the floor, grief consuming me.
Minutes or hours later, a knock at the front door
finally roused me. I made my way downstairs, mechanically, my
body moving while my mind remained numb. Margaret Holloway stood
on the porch, her face lined with worry. It's done,
she said, not a question, but a statement of fact.
I felt it the binding. I nodded, unable to speak,
and Alexander gone, I whispered. He took the entity's place,
bound it with himself. Margaret's expression softened with compassion. I
feared as much. The exchange requires balance, a consciousness for
a consciousness. I showed her the key I still clutched
in my hand. This is all that's left. She took
it gently, examining it. Not a normal key, she murmured,
this design. I've seen it before in my grandmother's notes.
A spark of something, not quite hope, but perhaps purpose
ignited in my chest. What does it open? Not what,
but where? Margaret looked at me with newfound intensity. This
is a key to the void itself, a way to
access the space between worlds, where Alexander is now, I said,
understanding dawning where the entity is bound. Yes. She pressed
the key back into my hand, closing my fingers around it.
But using it would be dangerous. Lease. The void is
not meant for human consciousness. You might become trapped there yourself.
I look down at the key, feeling its weight, its potential.
You said, your grandmother left notes about this key, about
the void. Margaret nodded. Years of research, theories, mostly, but
perhaps enough to start with. Will you share them with me?
She studied me for a long moment, seeing the determination
beneath my grief. You mean to find him, don't you
to bring him back? Somehow he found a way to
reach me across a century of separation. I said, I
can do the same for him. Margaret sighed, but there
was a hint of admiration in her expression. It may
take years, decades even, and there's no guarantee of success.
I slipped the key around my neck, on the broken
chain from the amulet. Against my skin, it felt warm, alive,
all a connection to wherever Alexander was now. Time is
different in the void, I said, with certainty. I couldn't
explain He'll wait for me, and I'll find him. The
sun rose higher, filling blackwood estate with light that felt cleansing, renewing.
The house was just a house now, no longer a
prison for Alexander's ghost, no longer a vessel for an
ancient entity. But it was something else too, a beginning,
my beginning. I closed my hand around the key, feeling
its edges press into my palm. Somewhere in the space
between worlds. Alexander waited and I had work to do.
He told me to find him again, I said, turning
back to Margaret, and I will. After all, what is
love if not the ultimate defiance of boundaries, between life
and death, between worlds, what is possible and what is not.
Some stories don't end, They just reach a pause, a
breath between chapters, and this is mine.
Speaker 2: Romance Weekly is a production of Calaroga Shark Media Executive
producers Mark Francis and John McDermott. Portions of this podcast
may have been created with the assistance of AI
Speaker 1: Caloroga Shark Media