Chapter 12: Fire in the Foundations

👉 Previous Decision: You either confronted Julian at the house or triggered automated legal actions from dispatch.

Back at the Hollister House basement, the air crackled with tension. The antique copper switchboard, exposed in the newly smashed wall, pulsed with a sickly orange glow.

Suddenly, the lights in the basement flickered violently. A low hum vibrated through the floor as the regional power station attempted to re-route energy through the old town lines.

The 1988 switchboard in the wall sparked, a shower of blue-white light illuminating the dusty space. A thin wisp of smoke curled upwards.

Then, a small flame erupted, licking at forgotten oilcloth insulation tucked inside the wooden studs. The smell of burning dust and aged wiring filled the air.

Julian screamed, a high-pitched, desperate sound. His eyes darted from the growing flame to the wall cavity.

Inside the burning space, nestled amidst the sparking copper, I saw it: a small, leather-bound book. The original 1888 ledger, its cover already singed by the flames.

Julian lunged towards the burning wall, his hand outstretched, not towards the crowbar, but towards the book. “No!” he shrieked, his voice choked with smoke. “Not the book!”

The flames rapidly spread, consuming the dry wood and old insulation. The smoke thickened, burning my eyes and lungs.

This was it. The climax. The true battle for the Hollister legacy, burning around us.