NOVEL ONLINE FREE Chapter 5: Chapter 5: The Drawer That Bleeds
The cut on Elara's palm wasn't deep, but it wouldn't stop bleeding.
A single drop hit the drawer.
And the drawer clicked open.
She hadn't touched it.
The Grimoire on her desk pulsed faintly, the ink glowing a dull red as if breathing. The message was still there:
"Do not open the drawer until your blood dries."
But it was already too late.
The drawer slid open on its own, as if it had been waiting for that single drop of blood. It made no sound, but Elara could feel the tension in the air twist into something sharper. Like something in the room was now awake.
Inside the drawer, there was only one thing:
A letter.
Another one.
But this one was old. Torn at the edges. Burned around the corners like it had barely survived a fire.
Her name wasn't on it.
In fact, no name was.
But she knew, deep in her bones, that it was meant for her.
She picked it up.
The paper was cold.
Colder than it should be.
Her hands trembled slightly as she unfolded it.
The letter was short, written in black ink that shimmered like oil:
"If you are reading this, it means they gave you my room.
They do that sometimes. When the last one disappears.
They won't tell you what happened to me. They'll lie.
Everyone lies at Hollowmoor.
Even you will.
They erased my name. But the Grimoire remembers. Ask it.
But be careful. It never tells the truth all at once.
It always takes more than it gives."
There was no signature.
No date.
Just a final line written in smaller, fainter text:
"I died before the third bell. Don't make the same mistake."
Elara let the letter fall onto the desk.
She didn't want to touch it anymore.
She stared at the drawer, now empty.
Blood dripped slowly from her palm onto the desk. The Grimoire reacted immediately.
The page turned on its own.
A new message appeared:
"Ask your first question."
Elara blinked.
"My first what?"
More ink bled across the page:
"You get three."
"Three questions before the third bell."
"Choose wisely."
She swallowed.
Her mind raced.
Questions burned in her brain. Who was she really? What happened to the girl before her? Why had she been chosen? Was she even real?
She looked at the Grimoire.
The ink pulsed again. It was waiting.
She took a breath.
And asked:
"What happened to the girl who lived in this room before me?"
The answer came quickly.
But not as words.
As pictures.
Black ink spilled across the page, shaping itself into small, shifting scenes.
She saw a girl with long hair sitting at the same desk.
She looked like Elara.
Not exactly, but close enough it made her sick.
The girl was writing in the Grimoire.
Then another image—the girl being dragged down a hallway by masked figures in robes.
Then another—the girl screaming as her own shadow pinned her to the floor.
Final image: the girl standing in fire. Not burning.
But turning to ash.
Then nothing.
The page turned blank.
The Grimoire wrote:
"One question used."
Elara sat back, cold all over.
The images were burned into her mind.
She had seen death before.
But this felt worse.
This felt like prophecy.
Was she going to die the same way?
Her chest tightened.
She needed answers.
But two questions left wasn't enough. Not for this place. Not for everything it was hiding.
She needed to be smart.
Her stomach growled suddenly. It was almost funny. Death, mystery, curses... and hunger.
She looked out the small window.
Dark clouds.
Ravens circling.
Somewhere out there, the other students were probably exploring, maybe trying to make friends.
But Elara didn't trust any of them.
Especially not Lira.
Lira had known something. Said strange things about being rewritten. About remembering.
And Elara was starting to remember too. Just flashes. A room on fire. A voice calling her a thief. The sound of pages tearing.
She got up and washed her hand.
The cut still hadn't healed.
Another bad sign.
By the time she came back to the desk, the Grimoire had closed itself.
The drawer, too.
Elara stared at it, then shoved a chair against it.
Just in case.
Later that night, after the other students returned to the dorm tower, a knock came at her door.
She froze.
No one had said anything about visitors.
She opened it slowly.
Lira.
Holding a candle.
Her eyes were sharper than before. Almost glowing.
"You opened the drawer, didn't you?" she said.
Elara didn't answer.
"They always open the drawer," Lira said, stepping inside without being invited.
She looked around, nodded at the Grimoire.
"Did it give you your first question?"
Elara swallowed. "Yes."
"And what did you waste it on?"
"The girl who had this room before me."
Lira smirked. "That wasn't a waste. But the answer is always the same. They burn."
"Why?"
"Because they remember too soon."
Elara frowned. "What does that mean?"
Lira didn't reply. Instead, she walked over to the window and pointed.
Far below, in the courtyard, a fire had been lit. A circle of students stood around it.
"That's tonight's Trial," Lira said. "The school wants to see who's brave. Or stupid."
"Trial?"
"You'll see. We all do eventually."
Lira turned to leave.
At the door, she paused.
"When the third bell rings," she said, "don't scream. That's how it hears you."
Then she was gone.
Elara stood in silence.
She looked back at the Grimoire.
The cover pulsed.
It was awake again.
Waiting.
Watching.