Page 395 of Evil Hearts

She thought back to the legends she had painted while studying Roman lore, the whispered tales of ancient curses and forbidden rituals. There had to be something, some clue hidden in the pages of history that could help her now.

And then it hit her. The Cursing of the Gargoyle Guardians. The story of how Aldric and his fellow protectors had been bound by a witch’s curse, condemned to a half-life of stone and shadow.

If she could find a way to break that curse, to free Aldric from its grip... but how? The answer had to lie in the cathedral, in the very heart of the city’s mystical underworld. And she had no idea how to access it.

Chapter Seven

Elena strode acrossthe stone floor, doing her best to ignore the sense of warning being back in the Cathedral brought. Her eyes scanned every shadow, and she found no comfort in the incense that usually reminded her of safety.

She had to find Father Antoine. Time was slipping away like sand through an hourglass, and the truth about the gargoyles remained just out of reach. Her heart pounded against her ribcage as urgency propelled her forward. He knew more than he was letting on.

Elena hurried closer to the altar hoping the man with his back to her was the correct Father, her pace quickening. As she drew close, the elderly priest turned to face her, his kind eyes meeting hers from behind spectacles.

“Father Antoine.” Her voice was low but intense, each word precise. “I need your help. The gargoyles—I have to know the truth about them.”

The older man regarded her solemnly, wisdom etched into the lines of his face. “The truth, my child, is a complicated matter. One tangled in curses, betrayals, and the city’s very history. One that you’ve no doubt started to unlock since we last spoke, and why I’ve seen you here so frequently.”

Elena’s brows knitted. She had suspected as much. “Please, Father. Lives are at stake. Aldric...he’s in danger. I can feel it somehow.”

Father Antoine sighed heavily, the weight of knowledge pressing on his shoulders. “Very well. Come with me to the library. There is plenty to share with you if we are to have any hope of breaking this ancient curse.”

He turned, robes whispering against the stone as he began to walk. Elena followed close behind, determined to unravel the secrets that had ensnared her heart and the city itself. In the cathedral’s hushed depths, the pursuit of truth had only just begun.

As they moved through the cavernous cathedral, Elena’s mind raced. The cult’s threat loomed like a shadow, and every moment spent in ignorance felt like a moment too long.

“Father, there’s a cult...they’re planning something. Something terrible.” Her words echoed in the hallowed space, sharp and precise. “I fear they mean to exploit the gargoyles’ curse for their own ends.”

Father Antoine listened intently, his brow furrowed in concentration. Fragments of history and magic danced through his mind, pieces of a puzzle waiting to be solved.

“The curse has left the city vulnerable,” he murmured, more to himself than to Elena. “And now, dark forces seek to capitalize on that weakness. You and I have traveled many lives trying to break it, each time losing more of our memory.”

Elena nodded, her jaw trembled. “That’s not possible.”

The priest glanced at her, admiration mingling with concern in his gaze. Such courage in the face of the unknown. It reminded her of the tales of old, of heroes who stood against the darkness.

“I’m sorry to say that it is. My ties to the church were stronger than yours and kept me sane each time I found myself at the end of a life. But your ties were to Aldric and with every lifewhere you did not connect with him, Lucien stole your soul and more of your memories.” Father Antoine quickened his pace, the urgency of their mission spurring him forward.

As they walked, Elena’s thoughts turned to Aldric. She could still feel the impossible warmth of his stone skin beneath her fingers, the longing in his eyes as he spoke of his centuries-long vigil. The thought of him in danger made her heart clench.

“Hold on, Aldric,” she whispered, a prayer and a promise. “I’m coming for you, and apparently our pasts as well.”

Ahead, the library’s ancient doors beckoned, a portal to the secrets that could save them all. Elena steeled herself, ready to face whatever truths lay hidden within the dusty tomes and yellowed scrolls. For Aldric, for the city, she would stop at nothing to break the curse that bound them.

Elena stepped onto the rooftop, the afternoon air cool against her skin. The city sprawled before her, a tapestry of shadows and flickering lights. She paused, her gaze drawn to the stone figures perched along the cathedral’s edge. Gargoyles, their features etched with a fierce protectiveness, frozen in time.

Ten of them, she counted. Ten silent guardians, their purpose lost to the ages.

A shimmering caught her eye, and Elena turned to see misty forms coalescing in the darkness. The Ethereal Guardians, their translucent bodies bathed in an otherworldly glow. They drifted closer, their whispers carried on the breeze.

“The path is clear,” they murmured, voices echoing with ancient wisdom. “Wake them, and they shall rise.”

Elena’s heart raced, the weight of their words settling upon her. Wake them. The key to breaking the curse, to saving Aldric and the city.

She stepped forward, hand outstretched. The first gargoyle loomed before her, its stone eyes seeming to peer into her very soul. Elena hesitated, doubt flickering through her mind. What if it didn’t work? What if she was wrong?

“Trust in yourself,” the spirits urged, their voices a gentle chorus. “Trust in the magic that flows within you.”

Elena drew a deep breath, stealing her resolve. She had come too far to turn back now. With a steady hand, she touched the gargoyle’s cold surface.

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