Chapter 1: The Old Gramophone
The nights in Ravensbridge had always hummed with silence, a kind of emptiness that stretched between the gnarled oaks and faded brick rowhouses. In the heart of that stillness, somewhere on Bleakrow Lane, stood a house with a flickering amber light, its windows veiled by threadbare curtains. The house belonged to Ada Mercer, a woman whose life had been as unremarkable as the gray cobblestones beneath her front step—until the night the song began.
Ada was a creature of habit, forever haunted by the shape of routine. Each evening after supper, she’d sit by the window with a cup of black tea and her battered journal, scribbling down the small nothings of her days. On Fridays, she allowed herself a single indulgence: pulling out the old gramophone that had once belonged to her mother and playing the haunting records that seemed to echo with secret stories.
But this Friday was different. As she reached into the gramophone’s velvet-lined drawer, her fingers brushed against something she had never noticed before—a thin, unmarked sleeve. Inside was a shellac disc, heavy and cold, with no label or inscription to give away its origins. Curiosity prickled at the back of her neck. With trembling hands, Ada placed the record on the turntable and lowered the needle.
The first notes were a cascade of minor chords, a melody as fragile as spider silk. Then came a voice, distant and strained, singing in a language Ada didn’t recognize. There was something unsettling about the song, something that made her skin prickle and her heart pound.
She closed her eyes, letting the music wash over her. Images flickered behind her eyelids—long corridors, locked doors, faces blurred with sorrow. When the record ended, Ada found herself gasping for breath, a single phrase burned into her mind: Find the Dreamkeeper.
She switched off the gramophone and stared into the darkness. Ravensbridge was a town of secrets, but Ada had never thought she would be drawn into its shadows. Yet even as she tried to dismiss the feeling as a trick of the light, a cold certainty settled in her chest. The song was a message, and she was meant to follow its call.
Chapter 2: The Collector
The next morning, a storm rolled in from the moors, sluicing the streets with rain and filling the air with a scent of wet earth. Ada wandered through Ravensbridge’s market square, her thoughts circling around the mysterious record and the words that refused to leave her mind. She found herself drawn to the edge of town, where the shops gave way to a tangle of alleys.
At the end of one of those alleys stood The Collector’s Emporium, a peculiar shop housing everything from rusted clocks to glass-eyed dolls. Inside, shelves groaned beneath the weight of decades, and the air was thick with dust and secrets. The shop’s owner, Mr. Fenwick, greeted Ada with a crooked smile.
Looking for something special, are we, Miss Mercer
Ada hesitated. I found a record last night. Unlabeled. The voice… it said, Find the Dreamkeeper. Does that mean anything to you
Mr. Fenwick’s smile faltered. He leaned in, lowering his voice. You’d best leave such things alone, Ada. There are stories about that song. Bad luck for anyone who hears it
But Ada pressed on, describing the melody, the strange language, the visions that had flooded her mind. Mr. Fenwick’s eyes darted nervously around the shop. Eventually, he led her to a backroom lined with old music boxes and phonographs.
There was a man, years ago. Called himself the Dreamkeeper. Used to collect stories—dreams, nightmares, memories. People say he could trap them in music. He vanished after his daughter disappeared. Some say he went mad, others… well, some think he never left Ravensbridge.
Ada’s breath quickened. Where can I find him
Mr. Fenwick shook his head. No one knows. But if you found his song, it means he’s reaching out. Be careful, Ada. The Dreamkeeper’s stories are never what they seem.
Rain drummed against the windows as Ada left the shop, the song echoing in her mind. She had a name, a legend, and a warning. But the whisper at the edges of her dreams was louder than any fear.
Chapter 3: The Forgotten Daughter
That night, Ada barely slept. She turned the story over in her mind, piecing together fragments from the town’s collective memory. The Dreamkeeper—once known as Elias Crane—had been a composer and a recluse. His daughter, Lila, had vanished one autumn evening, leaving behind only a single threadbare scarf and a house full of silence.
Drawn by a need she could not explain, Ada returned to her attic, sifting through boxes of her mother’s belongings. Among the yellowed letters and faded photographs, she found a newspaper clipping, its edges curled with age.
RAVENSBRIDGE GIRL STILL MISSING. Police continue to search for Lila Crane, age 17, last seen near Bleakrow Lane. Authorities urge anyone with information to come forward.
Bleakrow Lane. Ada’s own street. She stared at the photograph of Lila—a pale, delicate girl with dark eyes—feeling a chill run through her. Was it possible her family had known the Cranes? Had the Dreamkeeper’s story somehow entwined with her own?
As dawn crept across the rooftops, Ada made a decision. She would find Elias Crane. The song had summoned her, and she would not turn away.
Chapter 4: The House with No Doors
Armed with nothing but her resolve and the mysterious record, Ada set out for the oldest part of Ravensbridge, where houses crouched behind tangled gardens and iron gates. Following a trail of half-remembered directions and whispered clues, she found herself before a crumbling mansion, its windows blinded with dust.
The gate creaked open beneath her hand. Wild roses choked the path, their thorns catching at her skirt. As she approached the front door, she noticed something strange—there was no handle, no keyhole. Just a smooth expanse of wood, as if the house refused entry.
Yet the melody from the gramophone curled in her mind, a guide through the gloom. She pressed her palm to the door, humming the first phrase of the song. There was a click, a sigh of old hinges, and the door swung inward.
The house was a maze of shadows, filled with the scent of dust and fading dreams. Photographs lined the walls—hundreds of faces, some smiling, others weeping. In the center of the parlor stood an ancient upright piano, its keys yellowed with age.
Ada crossed the room, her footsteps muffled by thick carpets. She touched the piano, felt a shiver run through her. Somewhere, deep in the house, a voice began to sing—a distant echo of the melody she’d heard the night before.
She followed the sound through winding corridors, past locked doors and boarded windows, until she reached a small study at the back of the house. There, hunched over a music stand, was a man. His hair was tangled, his clothes threadbare. But his eyes, when they met hers, were sharp and burning.
So you found the song, he rasped. Elias Crane’s voice was little more than a whisper, but it carried the weight of years.
Chapter 5: The Bargain
Ada stood frozen, her hands trembling. The Dreamkeeper studied her, his gaze flickering between suspicion and hope.
You’re like the others, aren’t you? Drawn to the music, searching for answers. But you won’t find what you seek. Not here.
I’m not here for answers, Ada said. I want to help. Your daughter—Lila—what happened to her?
Elias’s face crumpled. He reached for a battered locket on the desk, turning it over in his palm.
Lila was… special. She heard things others couldn’t. That’s why they took her. He looked up, eyes pleading. The song you heard—it’s her song. She wrote it the night before she vanished. I’ve played it a thousand times, hoping she’d hear me. But the dreams… they twist everything.
What do you mean, they took her? Who would do that?
Elias gestured to a stack of journals, filled with scrawled notes and sketches. There’s a group—call themselves the Curators. They collect rare things: art, music, memories. They wanted Lila’s gift. When she refused, they made her disappear. I tried to stop them, but I was too late.
Ada felt a surge of anger. Why didn’t you go to the police?
Elias laughed, bitter and hollow. The Curators own the police. They own everything in Ravensbridge. But you—he broke off, staring at her. The song chose you. Maybe you can finish what I couldn’t.
Ada hesitated. What do I have to do?
Find the Dreamkeeper’s songbook. Before the Curators do. It’s the key to finding Lila—and to destroying the Curators’ hold on this town.
As Ada left the house, clutching a scrap of music Elias had pressed into her hand, she felt the weight of the town’s history pressing in around her. The song had led her to its composer. Now she had to follow it into the darkness.
Chapter 6: The First Clue
Ada returned to her own house, locking the door behind her. She spread the scrap of music on the kitchen table, studying the jagged notation. The melody was familiar, yet something about it felt incomplete.
She played the fragment on the piano, letting the notes guide her fingers. As she reached the end, she noticed a pattern in the rhythm—a series of pauses and accents that matched the Morse code she’d learned as a child. Heart pounding, she decoded the message: The silent library holds the key.
The Ravensbridge Library had been closed for years, its shelves gathering dust while the town moved on. Ada wasted no time. She slipped through the wrought-iron gates and crept into the reading room, where shafts of light cut the gloom. The silence was total, save for the creak of the floorboards beneath her feet.
She scanned the shelves, searching for any sign of the songbook. On a whim, she pulled out a volume of poetry by William Blake. Tucked inside was a folded sheet of music, its notes swirling across the page. The Song of Forgotten Dreams, it was titled. Below the staff, a single line of text: To the place where memories sleep, bring the music, and the shadows will speak.
Ada slipped the sheet into her bag and hurried home, her mind racing. The Curators knew she was searching for the songbook—it was only a matter of time before they came for her. She had to act quickly, before the forgotten dreams became her own.
Chapter 7: The Curators
As dusk fell, Ada sat by her window, watching the street below. Shadows pooled in the gutters, and the lamplights flickered as if in warning. She barely noticed the knock at her door until it came a second time, sharper and more insistent.
She opened the door to find two figures standing on the stoop. The woman was tall and elegant, her coat tailored and immaculate. The man beside her was broad-shouldered, his eyes hidden behind dark glasses.
Miss Mercer, the woman said, her voice smooth as silk. We’d like to ask you a few questions about a certain piece of music.
Ada swallowed. I don’t know what you mean.
The man stepped forward. We know you visited Elias Crane. We know you have his songbook. Hand it over, and there won’t be any trouble.
Ada’s grip tightened on the doorknob. I don’t have it.
The woman’s smile hardened. We’re not interested in games, Miss Mercer. The songbook contains valuable—dangerous—information. If it fell into the wrong hands, well, I doubt you’d want that on your conscience.
Before Ada could reply, a flash of movement caught her eye. Behind the Curators, a figure darted across the street and vanished into the shadows. The Curators followed her gaze, exchanging a glance.
This isn’t over, the woman said. We’ll be in touch.
They disappeared into the night, leaving Ada shaken. She knew she was running out of time.
Chapter 8: The Catacombs
The clue from the songbook pointed Ada toward the catacombs beneath Ravensbridge, a labyrinth of tunnels and forgotten cellars where the town’s oldest secrets slept. Armed with a lantern and the sheet music, she descended the crumbling steps beneath the old chapel.
The air was thick with damp and decay. As she moved deeper into the tunnels, she heard the echo of footsteps—someone was following her. Heart pounding, Ada ducked into a side passage, pressing herself against the cold stone.
The footsteps paused, then continued on. Ada pressed forward, guided by the melody in her mind. At the end of one corridor, she found a locked iron gate. The songbook’s title—The Song of Forgotten Dreams—was etched into the metal.
Ada unfolded the sheet music and began to sing. The notes lingered in the air, shimmering with possibility. As she reached the final chord, the gate swung open with a groan.
She stepped into a small chamber lined with shelves. Dusty journals and boxes of sheet music filled the room. At the center, atop a velvet pedestal, lay a battered leather-bound volume: the Dreamkeeper’s songbook.
Ada crossed the chamber, her hands trembling. As she reached for the book, a voice echoed through the darkness.
Don’t touch that.
The Curators had found her.
Chapter 9: The Chase
Ada spun around. The woman and her silent companion stepped into the chamber, blocking the exit. The woman’s eyes glittered with triumph.
You’re persistent, I’ll give you that, she said. But this is where your story ends.
The man reached for Ada, but she darted past him, clutching the songbook to her chest. She raced down the corridor, the Curators close behind. The tunnels twisted and turned, each fork leading deeper into darkness.
Ada’s lungs burned, but she pressed on, following the faint strains of the song that echoed in her mind. She burst into a narrow side passage, slamming the door behind her. The Curators pounded on the wood, but the old lock held.
She stumbled through the darkness, guided only by memory and instinct. At last, she found herself beneath the chapel once more, the morning light filtering through cracks in the ceiling. She climbed the steps and emerged into the chill dawn, the songbook still clutched in her hands.
But the Curators were not far behind. She could not return home. There was only one place left to go.
Chapter 10: The Song Unleashed
Ada fled to Elias Crane’s house, her heart pounding. She banged on the door, breathless. Elias opened it, his eyes wide with fear.
I found it, Ada gasped. The songbook—it’s real. But the Curators are after me.
Elias pulled her inside, bolting the door. He leafed through the songbook, his hands shaking.
This… this is everything. Lila’s memories, her dreams—every secret she hid from them. With this, we can find her. But there’s more. The final song—it’s unfinished. Only she can complete it.
What do we do
Elias looked at Ada, hope flickering in his eyes. We perform the song. Together. It’s the only way to reach her—wherever they’ve taken her.
They set up the old gramophone, threading the mysterious record onto the turntable. Elias sat at the piano, Ada at his side. They played, the music swirling through the house, filling every corner with light and shadow.
As they reached the final chord, a door in the far wall creaked open. Beyond it, a girl stood silhouetted by moonlight—Lila, her eyes filled with tears.
You found me, she whispered. I’ve been waiting so long.
Ada rushed forward, embracing Lila. The walls trembled, the music rising in a crescendo. The Curators burst into the room, their faces twisted with rage. But the song was stronger. It wrapped around them, pulling them into its depths, erasing their memories—just as they had erased so many lives before.
Chapter 11: The Return
When the music faded, the Curators were gone. The house was silent, save for the steady breathing of Elias and Lila. Ada slumped to the floor, exhausted but triumphant.
Ravensbridge changed after that night. The Curators’ grip on the town was broken, their secrets lost to the song’s embrace. The library reopened, the market square filled with laughter once more. Ada became a guardian of stories, collecting the dreams and memories the Curators had tried to steal.
Elias retired to his house, his family reunited at last. Lila blossomed, her music filling the air with hope. The old gramophone stood in Ada’s parlor, a reminder of the night the song called her into the darkness—and led her back into the light.
Chapter 12: Epilogue—The Song of Forgotten Dreams
Years passed, but Ada never forgot the melody that had changed her life. Sometimes, on quiet evenings, she would sit by the window and play the song, letting it carry her back to the night she found Lila and unraveled the threads of Ravensbridge’s secrets.
The Dreamkeeper’s songbook rested on her bookshelf, its pages filled with music and memories. Ada knew that some dreams could never be forgotten, no matter how deeply they were buried. And as she listened to the final notes fade into silence, she understood at last the true meaning of the song: that even in the darkest places, hope can find a voice—and sing the forgotten dreams awake.