Page 3 of Knox's Fate

She exhaled, steadying her nerves and approached the firearm, picking it and the box of ammo up, finding the weight of its presence both comforting and ominous as she carried it around with her.

As she walked, her attention was caught by carvings above the door frames. The symbols carved were odd, otherworldly, almost, and she had the sudden fanciful idea that they weren’t simply carved decoration, but engravings imbued with some kind of mystical meaning or perhaps a clue of some sort to a mystery that would unfold. Ruby shook her head and snorted. This place was already starting to get to her. Could her aunt have felt the same? Had her aunt or uncle carved them? Her mother had hinted more than once that her aunt had held some beliefs that were a bit different than most.

"Looks like there's more to you than meets the eye," she murmured to the walls around her, their silence holding more answers than she was ready to hear. Yet, within Ruby, the embers of resolve smoldered, and she knew, despite her trepidation, she would figure out the lodge and her aunt’s mysteries and build a new life for herself.

Her aunt had left behind a legacy shrouded in enigma, and Ruby, with her unwavering sense of forging her own path, meant to peel back the layers, one truth at a time. For now, though, she fortified her sanctuary against the night, against the watchers in the mist, her mind racing with the possibilities that lay hidden within the folds of Silver Falls.

Deciding it might be best to confine herself to just the kitchen and the adjacent bedroom and bath, Ruby tried to settle down for the night. Instead, she tossed and turned, her once heavy eyelids now flickering restlessly against the haunting array of sounds that infiltrated the stillness of the room. A whisper slithered through the cracked window, snaking under the covers and curling around her ear, its breathy echoes twining with the wind's mournful howl. Her pulse quickened, each beat a drum signaling the approach of something unseen.

With a jolt, she sat upright, the darkness of the room pressing in on her like a tangible force. Fumbling for the lamp,she clicked it on, banishing shadows to the corners where they gathered like silent conspirators. She couldn't shake the sensation of being watched, of eyes peering through the glass, hungry for the vulnerability of her isolation.

Gathering courage, Ruby slid from the warmth of her bed, her feet finding the cool wooden floor as she reached for the shotgun at her bedside. Its solid weight in her hands was a silent vow of protection. She bundled her pillows and blanket under one arm, while cradling the shotgun in the other. Tucking her cell phone—for which there was no signal—into her sweatpants, she pulled back the opening lever on the gun, the chill metal of the double triggers cold against her finger.

The hallway stretched before her, a gauntlet of moonlight and dark shapes thrown by antique furniture. Her heart thrummed a steady rhythm as she made her way to the full bath with its large clawfoot soaker tub, every creak of the floorboards a staccato note in the symphony of fear. Once inside, she locked the door behind her with a definitive click, the small space suddenly a fortress in a world grown frightening and unpredictable.

Ruby arranged her pillows and blankets in the large tub, making an adequate makeshift bed. She slipped into the tub, easing the opening levers forward but leaving the safety off, propping the shotgun between the tub and the wall where it would be safe from an accidental discharge but where it could be easily reached. With the shotgun close, she found the smell of oil and aged wood a strange comfort. Her mind spun with the day's events—the hooded figure, the whispers, the weird carvings—and what seemed to be fragments of information teased at her consciousness, daring her to put them together.

As sleep finally claimed her, it was a fitful mistress, tossing her into a sea of dreams where mist swirled and coalesced into shadowy forms. Her dreams whispered of secrets, of powersshifting beneath the surface of Silver Falls, their voices a siren song of the unknown. Ruby's subconscious sailed those murky waters, her spirit undaunted even in slumber, seeking the truth that danced just beyond reach in the fog-shrouded night.

The following day, laughing at her fear from the night before, Ruby drove her Jeep trundling down the main street of Silver Falls, the engine's purr a contrast to the stillness that seemed to drape over the small town. The storefronts were quaint, an echo of a bygone era, and the mountainous backdrop with the rushing water of the falls for which it was named lent the scene an air of a bygone nobility. As Ruby parked and stepped out onto the sidewalk, she realized Silver Falls wasn’t fancy, but it was a bit like stepping back in time.

She could feel the scrutiny of watchful eyes like an itch between her shoulder blades, the sidelong glances from passersby feeling as tangible as a physical touch. As she walked, murmurings hushed into silence at her approach, only to resume once she'd passed. Curiosity prickled at her senses, but so did isolation—the palpable sense of being an outsider in a tight-knit community. Perhaps they didn’t want the business a place like her bed and breakfast could bring, but no matter; she would do whatever it took to ensure the success of her business, and to hell with the town.

"New blood," she heard someone whisper, their tone not unkind but laced with a caution that made Ruby's spine stiffen.

Her heart kept a steady rhythm, defiant against the unease that tried to creep in. She held her head high, her gait determined as she made necessary stops—grocery, hardware store, the local diner for a bite. The food was wholesome, butnothing to write home about. She tasted dried herbs instead of fresh, and there seemed to be more of an emphasis on large portions rather than nuanced flavors. Each interaction she had was cordial, yet beneath the surface lay a tension Ruby couldn't quite name.

Back at the lodge, its size loomed less intimidating than before, and more like a challenge she was eager to accept. Rolling up her sleeves, she attacked the grime and clutter with gusto, moving methodically through the kitchen. Her movements were like a checklist, each part of the rooms cleaned—floors, remaining furniture, windows and the like—a step towards claiming this space as her own.

As she worked, she examined more closely the carvings etched in the top of the door frames. They were intricate, symbols that spoke of an ancient language that didn’t use words. Ruby traced the grooves with a curious fingertip, pondering their purpose. Her mother's voice echoed in her mind, speaking of estrangement born from her aunt’s "unusual" beliefs.

Were the symbols a riddle? Pieces of a puzzle that linked her aunt to whatever secrets the lodge and Silver Falls held? In them, Ruby felt the pulse of the unknown.

"Guess we've all got our little mysteries, huh?" she said to the empty room, a wry smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

After hours of cleaning, Ruby had made the kitchen and bedroom with its full bath functional and comfortable, she glanced around, comforted by the progress she'd made. Yet the carvings remained, guardians of the threshold, and as she lay back on the cleaned bed, the shadows of the night seemed to whisper of things to come, of histories entangled with her own.

In the quiet, she felt a connection to Aunt Lorraine, a kinship despite the years of separation. There was a mystery here, wrapped in the fabric of the home she had left behind. Ruby meant to uncover the truth, whatever that might be, brickby brick and symbol by symbol. For now, she allowed herself a moment of rest, her dreams a canvas for the painted whispers of Silver Falls.

CHAPTER 3

RUBY

Several days later, Ruby found herself back in Silver Falls as the morning sun was already climbing into the sky, banishing the shadows. Her shopping list was tucked securely in her hand as she strode down the town’s main street. The rustic charm of the town was a stark contrast to the city she had left behind, but its quiet and slow pace only fueled her desire to make a life for herself.

As she entered the local hardware store, the bell above the door chimed an announcement of her arrival. The aisles were a cozy, cluttered labyrinth of tools and materials, a treasure trove for the determined renovator, and a far cry from the big box stores she’d left behind. With her basket gradually filling with cans of paint, brushes, and various fixtures, Ruby navigated the narrow passage with an ease born from newfound familiarity. The weight of the supplies tested the limits of her grip, the basket’s handles digging into her palms.

She rounded the corner, her mind preoccupied with thoughts of varnish and wood stains when suddenly her forward motion came to an abrupt halt. Collision was inevitable—her basket met a solid, immovable obstacle, sending a can of sealant clattering to the floor.

"Oof!" Ruby exclaimed, her balance wavering for a moment before she steadied herself.

She looked up, way up, to meet the gaze of the tall, broad-shouldered figure she'd unwittingly crashed into. He was gorgeous. He had a muscular build and seemed, to Ruby, to embody the essence of rugged masculinity. His dark, medium length hair fell in untamed waves around his face, accentuating deep brown eyes that seemed to hold untold stories and complement his strong features. He had a chiseled jawline, accentuated by what she guessed was probably a perpetual five o'clock shadow, which only added to his rough-hewn charm.

"Sorry about that," she managed to say, despite the sudden rush of heat to her cheeks. She noted his wide shoulders filling the space between the shelves, an imposing silhouette against the backdrop of neatly stacked items.

"Are you all right?" His voice was deep, resonating through the narrow aisle, concern etched across his rugged features. His eyes locked onto hers, a startling shade that seemed to shift with the light.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine." Ruby replied, more flustered than she cared to admit. “Are you okay?” She crouched to retrieve the rogue can, quite sure she could feel him staring, as if it were a tangible touch grazing her skin. There was something about this man, something that stirred her arousal, a curious pull that was both intimidating and exhilarating.

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