Chapter LXVIII: The Courage Expedition, Part 1
The rain has finally left London by late afternoon, but the clouds still linger like silent witnesses, heavy with unspoken thoughts. The air outside Luna's Cup Café smells faintly of wet cobblestones and roasted chestnuts from a nearby stall. Inside, laughter, warmth, and the faint hiss of the espresso machine dance together in a soft, domestic melody.
Theo, Kingsley, Edison, and Pauline are already gathered in their favorite booth near the window, mugs of cocoa and cappuccino steaming between them. The soft orange glow of the café lights reflects on their faces — serene, comfortable, untouched by the weight of the previous storm.
Nathaniel enters moments later, the doorbell chiming softly as he pushes the door open. His coat is neatly pressed, his hair still slightly damp from the mist outside. For the first time in days, his eyes seem clearer — the darkness beneath them faintly receding.
"Look who finally decided to show up," Theo teases, raising his mug in greeting.
Nathaniel offers a wry smile as he sits. "You lot look alive. Guess the plague didn't win."
"Barely," Kingsley replies, his voice still a little raspy. "Edison almost coughed up a lung this morning."
Edison shrugs. "I was just testing if my lungs were still working."
Pauline laughs — that bright, ringing sound that cuts through the heaviness. "At least you're all human again."
"Define human," Kingsley murmurs, stirring his coffee absently. "After that fever, I think I transcended mortality for a while."
Nathaniel chuckles. "Good to have you back among the living."
"Barely," Theo says again. "But yes, we're back — and just in time too."
Nathaniel tilts his head. "For what?"
"For Halloween, obviously," Pauline says, eyes lighting up. "It's literally a week away! Don't tell me you forgot."
Nathaniel blinks. "I might have."
"You would," Kingsley says with a smirk. "While the rest of us are planning costumes, you're probably solving equations."
Edison leans forward. "Speaking of which — we should do something special this year."
Theo raises an eyebrow. "Special like what? Carving pumpkins?"
"No," Pauline interrupts, grinning mischievously. "I'm thinking... a test of courage."
The table goes quiet. Nathaniel looks up from his cup. "A test of courage?"
"Yes," she continues. "A haunted building tour. All around London. We'll visit the scariest places we can find — the ones with actual legends, ghost sightings, creepy histories — everything."
Edison's grin widens. "Oh, that's brilliant."
Theo snorts. "You're serious?"
"As serious as a ghost in a mirror," Pauline says, resting her chin on her hands. "We'll call it... The Spooktacular Tour."
Kingsley bursts into laughter. "Spooktacular? Really?"
"What?" she pouts. "It's catchy."
Nathaniel can't help but smile faintly. "You're suggesting we wander through haunted places at night. In London. For fun."
"Exactly," she says brightly. "Come on, Nathaniel. You can't tell me the thought doesn't excite you a little."
He hesitates. "Excite or concern me?"
Theo leans back. "Both sound accurate."
Pauline gives a dramatic sigh. "Fine, then. Maybe I'll go alone."
Edison immediately waves his hands. "No way! I'm not letting you ghost-hunt solo. Count me in."
Kingsley groans. "You all are insane."
Theo shrugs. "Well, insanity's kind of our brand."
Nathaniel finally sets his cup down, the faintest curve of amusement tugging at his lips. "Alright. But if we're doing this, we do it properly."
Pauline's eyes gleam. "Properly?"
He nods. "Maps. Flashlights. Emergency contacts. Research on each site. We'll prepare for anything — including unexpected company."
Edison chuckles. "You mean like actual ghosts?"
Nathaniel's gaze flickers — serious, just for a heartbeat. "Maybe not just ghosts."
The table quiets again. That tone — calm, steady, yet filled with something heavier — reminds them that Nathaniel isn't joking. Not entirely. For all his composed demeanor, they've all seen the look in his eyes before — the one that says he knows more than he lets on.
Theo clears his throat, breaking the tension. "Alright then. Operation Spooktacular. When do we start?"
Pauline's grin returns. "Tonight."
"Tonight?" Kingsley echoes. "You mean now?"
"Why wait?" she shrugs. "The best ghost stories always start after dark."
The sun has already dipped below the horizon by the time they regroup near the King's College gate. The stone walls glisten faintly from the earlier drizzle, and the lamplight paints golden halos across the wet pavement.
Nathaniel stands at the front, a flashlight in hand. Theo and Kingsley carry cameras — "for evidence," they claim — while Edison holds an old map of the campus. Pauline's scarf flutters in the night breeze, her breath visible in the chill air.
"This place looks normal enough," Theo says, eyeing the empty quadrangle. "I don't see any ghosts."
"That's what they all say," Pauline replies in a mock-spooky voice. "Until something whispers their name."
Edison shivers theatrically. "You're enjoying this too much."
Nathaniel switches on his flashlight, its beam slicing through the mist. "Alright. Let's make this systematic. We'll start at the old chapel, then move to the west wing, the library, and finally the science block."
"Why the science block?" Kingsley asks.
Nathaniel glances at him. "Because no one's dared go there after midnight since 1893."
Theo raises a brow. "That's oddly specific."
"I read things," Nathaniel says, almost defensively.
Pauline smirks. "Of course you do."
They move together, their footsteps echoing softly on the stone paths. The campus is eerily silent — too silent. The rainwater drips from the old gothic spires, each droplet falling like a tick of an invisible clock.
As they approach the chapel, Pauline whispers, "You know, they say a student once disappeared here. Walked in during a thunderstorm and never came out."
Edison leans closer. "That true?"
Nathaniel doesn't answer immediately. "Records say they found his shoes at the altar. Nothing else."
A soft gust blows through the corridor — cold and sudden. Pauline shivers, clutching her scarf tighter.
Theo laughs nervously. "Alright, that's unsettling."
Kingsley peers around the pews. "No sign of anything. Maybe the ghost's on vacation."
But then — a faint sound. A low, resonant hum, like distant chanting, reverberates through the chapel walls.
They freeze.
Edison lowers his flashlight. "Tell me that's not you humming."
Nathaniel steps forward, eyes narrowing. "No one's supposed to be here."
The chanting stops.
A moment of silence.
Then — bang!
A door at the far end slams shut with a violent force. Pauline gasps, clutching Nathaniel's sleeve instinctively. The sound echoes, traveling through the chapel like a heartbeat.
Theo laughs weakly. "Okay... point proven. Haunted."
Kingsley swallows hard. "Or drafty. Very drafty."
Nathaniel remains calm — too calm. He walks toward the door slowly, the others following reluctantly. When he opens it, the corridor beyond is empty, but something feels off. The air feels denser, heavier, like static before lightning.
"Maybe we should move on," Pauline whispers.
He nods. "Agreed."
They leave the chapel, their laughter forced now, more for comfort than amusement. The west wing looms next — older, darker, with vines crawling up the sides like veins.
Inside, the corridors stretch endlessly, lined with portraits of past deans whose painted eyes seem to follow them.
Edison waves his camera. "If one of these portraits blinks, I'm gone."
"Coward," Kingsley mutters — but his voice trembles too.
Pauline trails behind Nathaniel, her footsteps matching his. "You're really calm, huh?"
"Habit," he says softly. "Fear's just another signal. You can choose whether to listen."
She smiles faintly. "You make even fear sound academic."
Nathaniel turns his flashlight toward a corner — and pauses.
There, faintly etched on the wall, is something new. A symbol. Circular, interlocked lines with small marks like runes branching outward. It glows faintly under the beam.
"What's that?" Theo breathes.
Nathaniel crouches. "Not part of the original architecture. Recent. Maybe a week or two old."
"Graffiti?" Edison suggests.
"Maybe," Nathaniel says — though his voice says otherwise.
Pauline kneels beside him. "You've seen that before, haven't you?"
He hesitates. "It resembles something... from an old paper. A sigil of containment."
"Containment for what?" Theo asks.
Nathaniel doesn't answer. He stands instead, dusting his hands. "Let's keep moving."
By the time they reach the library, the moon has fully risen, a pale eye watching over them through the arched windows. The smell of old paper and dust fills the air, comforting yet strange.
Pauline runs her fingers across the spines of books. "Feels wrong to talk loud here."
"Because the ghosts are studying," Edison whispers dramatically.
Kingsley elbows him. "Shut it."
Theo shines his flashlight across the shelves — and stops. "Uh... guys?"
They all turn. On one of the tables sits a single open book. Its pages flutter though there's no wind. The light flickers overhead.
Nathaniel approaches cautiously. The book is old — leather-bound, the ink faded. He reads the heading aloud.
"On the Persistence of Souls in Academic Halls."
Pauline exhales. "That's... specific."
He flips a page, eyes scanning quickly. "It's a collection of accounts — hauntings tied to unfinished work. Students, professors..."
Edison interrupts. "You're saying ghosts stay here because they failed exams?"
"Some of them, apparently," Nathaniel murmurs.
Theo laughs nervously. "Well, guess I'll haunt the chemistry lab one day."
Pauline rolls her eyes. "Not funny."
But before Nathaniel can reply, the lights flicker again — this time violently. The bulbs buzz, the temperature drops sharply. Their breaths mist in the air.
From the far end of the library, something moves.
A faint, shuffling sound. Slow. Uneven.
Pauline grabs Nathaniel's arm again. "Tell me you heard that."
"I did."
They turn their flashlights toward the sound — and for an instant, see something. A figure. Tall, indistinct, standing between the shelves.
Then it's gone.
The silence that follows is unbearable.
Theo exhales shakily. "Alright. This tour's officially working."
Edison manages a laugh. "Pauline wins. Courage test passed."
Nathaniel's eyes linger where the figure stood. His pulse is steady, but inside, something stirs — that same static from before. The same invisible weight pressing against his chest.
He looks toward the window, the moonlight casting sharp shadows across the room. For a fleeting moment, he thinks he sees another reflection — something behind him. Watching.
But when he turns, there's nothing.
They regroup outside, the night air biting cold. The clock tower strikes midnight — slow, deliberate, echoing across the campus.
"Well," Theo says, rubbing his arms. "That was eventful."
Pauline laughs softly, though her voice trembles. "Told you it'd be fun."
Edison grins. "Fun's a strong word."
Kingsley exhales, visibly relieved to be outdoors. "We survived the first stop."
Nathaniel looks toward the distant spire of the science block, its windows dark and unlit. "Barely."
Pauline notices his tone. "You okay?"
He hesitates — then nods. "Yeah. Just... thinking."
She studies him for a moment. "About what?"
"Sometimes," he says slowly, "I wonder if we're the ones haunting this place — not the other way around."
The group goes silent. Even Theo doesn't joke this time.
Pauline's smile fades softly. "You always say the strangest things."
"Do I?" he murmurs, gaze distant.
She nods. "But they make sense. In a weird way."
He glances at her then — just briefly. "Maybe that's why you're still here."
The clock chimes again. Somewhere beyond the courtyard, a raven calls, its cry splitting the silence.
Nathaniel exhales, looking up at the mist rolling across the rooftops. The night feels alive now — not just with wind and whispers, but something deeper, something that hums in the air itself.
The first night of the Spooktacular Tour has ended.
But the feeling that follows them out of King's College — that faint chill in the spine, that soft hum beneath the silence — refuses to fade.
Something is stirring beneath London's surface.
And Nathaniel can feel it — like a pulse, faint but undeniable.
A beginning masked as a game.
A whisper waiting in the dark.
And when Pauline laughs again, trying to shake off the cold, Nathaniel forces a smile.
But deep down, he already knows.
This is no ordinary tour.
It's the start of something neither of them are ready to name.
Something watching. Waiting.
Just beyond the reach of the light.
And tonight, for the first time in a long while...
Nathaniel Cross feels alive.
And afraid.
At the same time.
14Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqzM2Sfplsr
and then Add to home screen.