Chapter 66: History
Estello turned to Richard and Jack with that cryptic glint in his eye. "Come on. There’s someone I want you to meet."
Jack raised an eyebrow. "This one of your spirit friends?"
"Not quite," Estello said. "But close enough. And you’ll keep this quiet, yeah? No records, no chatter. Promise me that."
Richard nodded. Jack muttered, "Yeah, sure. Secret grandpa quests are our thing now."
They followed Estello as he took a narrow path through the side of the warehouse, past the flickering remnants of ritual candles and toward the far edge of the village. It was quieter here. Humid. The air smelled of damp wood and distant rain.
They stopped in front of a small wooden house tucked beneath the shade of a massive balete tree. From the outside, it looked nothing special—simple, lived-in, old. Faded curtains. Potted plants. A tin roof half-swallowed by moss. The kind of place you’d pass without a second thought.
But Richard... he felt it.
Something inside the house didn’t sit right. Not wrong, exactly—but heavy. Like the pressure shift before a storm. Like a presence waiting just beyond the walls. He narrowed his eyes, trying to parse it. Energy. Familiar, but not. Subtle. It didn’t spike like the amulets. It breathed.
Estello knocked gently. The door creaked open.
An old woman answered, wrapped in a handwoven shawl. Her face was soft but unreadable—wrinkles carved deep from time and something heavier. Loss maybe. Or wisdom that bordered on something stranger.
Estello smiled like a kid visiting his grandmother. "Oh, child. Good to see you."