The sun was barely up as Veronica Lodge and Reggie Mantle sat across from each other at the small kitchen table, cups of coffee in hand. Neither of them had slept well the night before, the weight of Diana's spirit and the eerie events that haunted their apartment pressing heavily on their minds.

"I can't keep doing this, Reg," Veronica said, her voice low and strained. "We've tried everything. Maybe it's time we get serious help."

Reggie nodded, the bags under his eyes dark from the many sleepless nights they had endured. "I agree. It's not just us anymore. This... thing, it's escalating. What Betty saw, what you saw, the things moving by themselves... it's more than we can handle. We need to get rid of this once and for all."

They had both become so accustomed to the creeping dread that had infiltrated every aspect of their lives in the apartment. It had been subtle at first—the whispers, the cold spots, the strange knocks. But now, the apparitions and the strange happenings had turned their lives upside down. Every corner felt like it was hiding something sinister, every shadow seemed to move when they weren't looking.

"I'll make the call," Veronica said, exhaling shakily.

Veronica picked up her phone, her hands trembling as she dialed the numbers. She contacted a paranormal investigator, a medium, and a Catholic priest. As she spoke to each one, detailing the events, she could hear the concern in their voices. The investigator sounded experienced, familiar with situations like theirs, while the medium assured her that she would be able to communicate with the spirit. The priest's voice was firm, calm, yet carried the weight of someone who had faced such darkness before. They all agreed to come the following night.

After making the calls, Veronica hung up, her hands shaking.

"They're coming tomorrow night," she said quietly, staring at the phone in her hand. "To free the spirits."

Reggie reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "We're going to get through this, Ronnie. We'll get our lives back."

Just as they started to feel a sense of relief from having taken a proactive step, Veronica's phone buzzed loudly on the table, jolting both of them from their thoughts. She glanced down to see an unfamiliar number on the screen.

"Oliver," she whispered. "It's him."

Reggie leaned closer, his expression tense as Veronica answered the call.

"Hello?" Veronica said, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Veronica, it's Oliver," came the familiar voice on the other end. His tone was quiet but urgent. "I've been thinking about this for a while, and I think it's time we talk about... the urn."

Veronica's heart skipped a beat. The urn had been sitting in the corner of the apartment ever since they found it, untouched but undeniably present, like a dark cloud hanging over everything. They had discussed what to do with it multiple times, but each time, they'd been too afraid to move it, unsure of what it would unleash.

"Yeah, we need to do something about it," she said, her voice tight. "But we don't know how. We can't just... dump it."

Oliver's voice softened. "Exactly. You can't just toss it out. That's the worst thing you could do. My mom... she doesn't deserve that, despite everything that's happened. There's a way to do this respectfully, but it has to be done right."

Reggie exchanged a worried look with Veronica, who was now listening intently.

"How do we do that?" Veronica asked. "How do we... remove her ashes respectfully?"

Oliver took a deep breath on the other end. "You'll need to take the urn to a place where my mom felt some peace. Somewhere she felt connected. If you do that, she'll have a chance to move on, and the spirit might finally be at rest. But it has to be done with respect, Veronica. You need to talk to her as you do it. Tell her why you're moving her, and say goodbye. Make her understand. Otherwise, she'll fight you. And trust me... you don't want that."

Veronica swallowed, her throat dry. "Where should we take it? Where did she feel that kind of peace?"

There was a long pause on the other end of the line before Oliver spoke again.

"She used to go to the lake outside town," Oliver said quietly. "It was her favorite place, where she used to take me when things got too much with my dad. That's where you need to go."

The silence stretched between them after Oliver finished speaking, heavy with the weight of what they needed to do.

"I'm so sorry you've had to go through this," Oliver added, his voice barely a whisper now. "But I'm begging you... be careful. My mother's spirit... it's restless. I don't know how she'll react."

Veronica took a deep breath, trying to calm the fear gnawing at her insides. "We'll do it, Oliver. We'll take her to the lake. We'll do it right."

They exchanged a few more words before hanging up the call. When Veronica placed the phone back on the table, her hands were still shaking.

Reggie broke the silence first. "We need to do this tomorrow. Before things get worse."

Veronica nodded, her stomach twisting with anxiety. She could feel the tension building in the apartment, as though the very walls were holding their breath, waiting for the next move. They had been dealing with the paranormal for so long that it felt almost normal now, but this... this was something they had to handle delicately, with care.

"We'll take the urn to the lake," Veronica said softly, her eyes focused on the darkened corner of the room where Diana's urn sat, looming over them like an unspoken threat. "We'll give her the peace she deserves."

As the day wore on, the oppressive atmosphere in the apartment only grew heavier. Every creak of the floor, every gust of wind rattling the windows felt charged with energy. They tried to distract themselves by cleaning and preparing for the next day, but it was impossible to ignore the sensation that they were being watched—by something that was not pleased with their decision.

Nightfall came quickly, and with it, a growing sense of dread. The apartment was too quiet, and the air too thick, as if the very apartment itself was holding its breath.

They sat together on the couch, their phones in hand as they texted their friends about what Oliver had told them. As they typed out their messages, both Veronica and Reggie shared a mutual understanding: this was the beginning of the end. Tomorrow, they would face whatever had been lurking in the shadows of their home.

As they prepared for bed, Reggie looked over at the urn one last time before heading into the bedroom. Veronica lingered for a moment, staring at the silver locket next to the urn, feeling a chill run down her spine.

"Tomorrow," she whispered to herself, as if speaking directly to Diana's spirit. "Tomorrow, we'll set you free."

With that, she turned off the light, but as she did, she swore she heard a faint whisper—a voice so quiet it was almost lost in the stillness of the apartment.

"Thank you."

Veronica froze, her heart pounding in her chest. She looked around, but saw nothing. The room was empty, save for the lingering sense that she had just communicated with something not of this world.

Shaking her head, she hurried back to the bedroom where Reggie was already laying down. Tomorrow would be the day they faced whatever haunted their apartment head-on.

And whatever it was, it would either be the end of their nightmares, or the beginning of something far worse.