Sisters of the Binding: Hank's Revelation

Chapter 8

Sam and Lilly didn’t feel like walking the streets in the morning, deciding instead to take the Jeep to the The Dusty Gnome. They burst inside, anxious for answers, the bell’s jingle swallowed by their urgent advance. Hank looked up from behind the counter, surprise etched on his weathered face. Sam launched into a breathless account of the flickering lights, whispered voices, glowing runes—each word chipping away at Hank’s stoic demeanor until fear and understanding flashed in his eyes.

She didn’t pause, the need to understand propelling her. “It was like the whole store came alive. It felt like we were in another world.” Her voice cracked, carrying both fear and a desperate plea for explanation. Lilly’s expression mirrored the urgency, the shadows of the night’s events still haunting her features.

Hank set down the book he’d been holding, his movements tense. The store’s familiar scent of aged paper seemed heavier, like a shroud drawn tight. Sam’s words hung in the air, and he studied them both, a mix of resolve and resignation in his gaze.

“What did we do?” Lilly asked, her voice small against the enormity of what they’d experienced.

Hank sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping with the weight of secrets long kept. He moved to the front of the store, the action heavy with decision, and flipped the “Open” sign to “Closed.” He drew the blinds, the outside world fading to leave them in the dim, cloistered space of old books and ancient history.

“Come here,” he said, pulling out a worn leather chair from behind the counter. His hands trembled slightly, revealing more than words alone. “I was afraid this might happen.”

Sam and Lilly exchanged a glance, the tension between them shrinking under the pressure of what they were about to learn. They moved closer, Lilly’s eyes wide with a mixture of fear and fascination, Sam’s skepticism barely masking her urgency.

Hank sat heavily, the chair creaking under the burden of his confession. “Your mother made me promise to keep certain things hidden,” he began, each word drawn from a well of memory. His voice was low, a stark contrast to Sam’s earlier frenzy.

He paused, watching their faces as if gauging the impact of his words. Sam crossed her arms, a defensive gesture that failed to hide her inner turmoil. Lilly leaned forward, her focus entirely on Hank, the eagerness of discovery outweighing her apprehension.

Hank took a steadying breath. “Your mother knew Emil Ravencrest’s activities would come back to haunt us all. She did everything she could to prevent it.”

Sam’s expression tightened, doubt etched into the lines around her mouth. “How?” she asked, the word more challenge than question.

Hank’s gaze held steady, the conviction in his eyes unwavering. “Emil dabbled in things best left alone,” he said. “Jill knew his secrets, and she made it her mission to guard them.”

The air felt thick, the very walls of the store seeming to press in around them. Hank’s words resonated in the space, a truth long buried and now unearthed.

“Guard them from what?” Lilly asked, her voice a thin line between fear and curiosity.

“From a force older and darker than we could imagine,” Hank replied. His tone was somber, his belief in the words clear.

Sam shifted, a restless motion that spoke volumes about her inner conflict. “You really believe this, don’t you?” she said, her voice edged with incredulity.

“I do,” Hank said, the simple admission carrying a gravity that pulled them all in.

He glanced around the store, the familiar shelves now strange and charged with possibility. “The runes you saw,” he continued, “are etched into the woodwork. Jill placed them there as protection.”

Sam’s skepticism flared, but she couldn’t ignore the way the sunlight filtering through the blinds created strange patterns on the floor, almost mimicking the glowing symbols they had seen the previous night.

Hank’s revelation hung heavy between them, altering the landscape of everything they thought they knew. Sam’s doubt was a constant companion, yet it was eroding under the weight of inexplicable events. She traced the lines on the floor with her eyes, her disbelief warring with what she had seen.

Lilly watched her sister, noting the flicker of uncertainty that broke through Sam’s usual resolve. She turned back to Hank, her curiosity undiminished. “What kind of force?” she asked, her need to know pushing past her fear.

Hank hesitated, the pause filled with years of silence and the burden of secrets he’d held alone. “Something ancient,” he said finally, the word as expansive as the fear it carried.

****

Sam’s disbelief flared, but uncertainty moved beneath her words, a ripple of doubt she couldn't ignore. “Mom was always into that mystical stuff. It doesn’t mean any of it was real,” she said, her voice just above a tremor. Lilly ran her fingers along the edge of a bookshelf, tracing a faint runic pattern. “Why is Mom’s name in the book?” Sam asked abruptly, the question sharp and cutting. Hank studied them both. “Jill was the last to own it,” he said, his voice grave. “You opened the book and now it’s yours. You need to make your mark in it.”

Sam opened her mouth to protest, but Hank continued, his expression solemn. “The book chooses its keeper,” he said. The room felt colder, the walls pressing in with the weight of ancient expectation. Sam rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t shake the chill his words left behind. She touched the tome, its surface alive and pulsing beneath her fingertips, as if it had its own heartbeat. The sensation unnerved her, more intimate and intense than she wanted to admit.

Hank rose, his movement deliberate as he crossed the room. “Come with me,” he said.

Sam and Lilly exchanged a glance, the urgency of the night’s events still a shadow between them. They followed Hank, their curiosity stronger than the uncertainty that trailed them.

Hank moved toward a seemingly ordinary section of shelving, his fingers tracing a familiar path. He pressed against the wood, revealing a hidden panel. The shelf slid aside with a reluctant groan, exposing a concealed compartment filled with yellowed papers and leather-bound journals.

Sam’s skepticism chilled, the sight of the hidden documents both thrilling and unsettling. They lay in a careful stack, each piece a testament to the history that haunted them. Her pulse quickened, disbelief battling the pull of the mystery before her.

“What are these?” Sam asked, the words a mix of eagerness and apprehension. Her eyes darted between Hank and the papers, drawn to the secrets they promised to reveal.

Hank’s expression was unreadable, his pause measured. “More of Emil’s work,” he said finally, the words deliberate. He drew out a journal, the cover cracked with age, and held it as if it might fracture with the weight of its own story. The significance of the discovery resonated in the silence, filling the air with a tense, anticipatory hum.

Sam’s gaze locked onto the ancient documents. Her caution was overridden by the need to understand. She took a step closer, Lilly mirroring her movement, the promise of answers cutting through their disbelief.

Lilly watched her, the urgency in her sister’s actions a testament to Sam’s inner conflict. Sam reached out, her hesitation a thin veil over her compulsion. The journals seemed to call to her, their quiet insistence too powerful to ignore.

“You really think this is all real?” Sam asked, her voice tight with doubt and something else—hope, perhaps, or fear.

Hank’s eyes met hers, the depth of his belief unyielding. “Yes,” he said. The single word was as ancient and certain as the papers themselves.

Sam hesitated, then picked up a sheet covered in spidery handwriting. The ink had bled into the page with time, but the text remained legible. Her eyes scanned the words, each line a fracture in her certainty.

Lilly hovered near Sam, her own curiosity flaring despite her reservations. “Looks like it’s written in code,” she said, a mixture of awe and wariness in her tone.

“More like old German,” Sam replied, the familiarity sparking an interest she couldn’t suppress.

“You read old German?” Hank asked.

“I speak and read 9 languages Hank, I read all sorts of books,” Sam said with a smirk.

Hank let out a little chuckle and then became very serious, “That’s good, you are going to need it.”

The enormity of their discovery settled around them, an oppressive, exhilarating force. Sam glanced at Hank, her expression a complex weave of doubt and determination. “You really believe there’s something... more?” she asked, her words carrying a weight she could barely acknowledge.

Hank’s answer was in the quiet confidence of his gaze. He nodded, the action subtle but resolute.

****

Hank’s hands trembled as he lifted a fragile sheet, the paper so thin with age that it seemed to whisper its secrets before he even spoke. Emil Ravencrest’s notes. The name leapt from the page with terrible urgency, bleeding into intricate drawings and spidery script that described something called Nyxalloth and the ritual used to summon it. Sam’s breath caught, disbelief crashing against her understanding. The paper felt alive in her hand, its chilling tale of cult worship and dark heralds crackling like old bones. Nyxalloth was intended to prepare the earth for the return of the Old Gods.

Sam’s eyes scanned the document, the words filling the air with an oppressive weight. The Circle of the Void. The cult’s name throbbed in her mind, reverberating with dark history and long-buried fear. Emil Ravencrest led them, believing himself the architect of a new world, a world that would bow to ancient, forgotten deities.

Her hands shook as she held the notes, her skepticism eroding with each line, each macabre drawing. The paper was an artifact of dread, and her curiosity sparked against it like flint on steel. Sam felt the chilling certainty of Hank’s words: Jill’s beliefs were not just fantasy and stories. Her mother had known far more than she ever let on.

The notes were a relic of a past Sam thought she’d left behind, but their presence proved otherwise. She was tethered to this history in ways she could no longer deny. It gripped her, holding fast to her understanding and twisting it into new, unrecognizable shapes.

Hank’s voice broke the charged silence. “Jill warned me about this,” he said, his tone grave and tinged with urgency. “She believed some members of the Circle are still out there, still bent on bringing the Old Gods back.”

The revelation clung to the air, filling the space with a sense of doom as tangible as the ancient papers. Sam struggled to process what Hank was saying. The Circle of the Void. A cult with ambitions so vast and terrifying that her mind rebelled against the truth of it. “She really thought they’d return?” she asked, her voice a fragile thread.

Hank nodded, the motion slow and certain. “She did. And so do I.” The quiet conviction in his words sent shivers down Sam’s spine. Lilly hovered close, her wide eyes mirroring Sam’s inner turmoil. Her fear was edged with curiosity, a desire to understand despite the terror.

“What did we start?” Lilly asked, her voice almost lost in the thick, heavy atmosphere.

“Something that’s been waiting,” Hank replied, his expression one of weary acceptance. The admission left Sam reeling, her disbelief shattering under the weight of his certainty.

They spread the documents across the counter, each page a revelation. Sam and Lilly leaned over them, their faces illuminated by the dim light that struggled against the encroaching shadows. Sam’s heart pounded with a mix of fear and fascination, the dark history she uncovered more real and more immediate than she ever imagined.

As they pored over the notes, the overhead lights began to flicker. Sam and Lilly exchanged looks, their fear mirrored in each other’s eyes. Lilly’s voice wavered with a mix of dread and wonder. “It’s happening again, isn’t it?”

Sam’s pulse raced, the truth unavoidable. The flickering lights were a warning, the oppressive atmosphere a reminder that nothing was safe or sacred. They were in the grip of something beyond their understanding, and its hold was tightening.

“It is,” Sam admitted, her voice raw with fear and the reluctant acceptance of what they’d set in motion.

Hank watched them, his belief in the reality of the situation unyielding. He seemed both resigned and determined, the years of silence giving way to a flood of consequences he could no longer contain.

The tome sat on the counter, its presence undeniable. Sam reached for it, her hand brushing against the surface as she tried to reconcile her scholarly curiosity with the dark, throbbing certainty of the truth.

Suddenly, the book heated up beneath her touch, growing too hot to hold. She gasped and pulled back, the movement sudden and panicked.

“It’s burning,” Sam exclaimed, disbelief lacing her words.

The tome pulsed with an inner light, an eerie glow that spread like wildfire through the dim room. It was alive with intent, the entity it described awakening with malevolent purpose.

Sam’s heart pounded, the rush of terror and awe leaving her breathless. Her mind spun, a whirlwind of thoughts that refused to settle into anything coherent or comforting. They had done something irreversible, and the evidence was right in front of them.

Hank’s gaze held a grim certainty. “You need to leave,” he said, his voice cutting through the chaos. “Before it’s too late.”

The lights dimmed further, casting the room in an unnatural twilight. Sam and Lilly grabbed the papers, the urgency of their escape overshadowing everything else.

Sam looked at the tome, her eyes widening as a new thought occurred to her. She reached out a tentative finger, tracing the edges of the cover before speaking. "If I pick you up, you need to stop glowing," she murmured, treating the ancient text like a living entity that could hear and understand her.

To her amazement, the glow faded away, and she carefully picked up the warm tome. It was no longer hot to the touch, but it still held an otherworldly energy that sent shivers down her spine.

They hurried out of the bookstore, the sky darkening rapidly as they rushed towards the door. The air was thick with anticipation and fear, the ominous clouds rolling in like a living entity itself, creating an eerie sense of early nightfall.

As they fled into the town in the Jeep, Sam's heart raced in her chest, her disbelief shattered and replaced by a burning curiosity. She thought it best to go to the local library to help investigate this further. She couldn't shake the feeling that they had unleashed something terrible, something that would haunt them until it was stopped. The echo of Hank's words - "You've opened a door that should have remained closed" - rang loud in her ears, mocking her naivety and pushing her deeper into the unknown.