Estella's hands were trembling as she clutched the note, the parchment crinkling under her grip. Her fingers pressed into it so hard I thought she might tear it.
She was shaking not from the cold, but from something deeper, something raw that I could feel just standing near her. Her lips moved silently, her wide eyes darting frantically over the faded, blood-smeared words on the page.
The faint light spilling in from the doorway caught her face, and the strain in her expression made my stomach twist.
I stepped forward, hesitating. "Estella?" I asked, my voice wavering, but Kiaran's voice cut through mine, sharp and commanding.
"Estella," he snapped, his tone like the crack of a whip. "What are you doing?"
She didn't answer. Her breathing was shallow, quick, like she couldn't get enough air. I could hear it—short, gasping breaths that made my own chest tighten in sympathy.
It was as if the words on the note were choking her, stealing the air right out of her lungs. The paper shook in her hands, the rustling sound almost unnaturally loud in the heavy silence.
I opened my mouth to say something else, but she moved before I could.
Her boots scraped against the last step as she surged forward, slamming her shoulder into the rusted iron door at the top of the staircase. The hinges groaned, low and grating, an awful sound that sent a shiver crawling up my spine.
It was the kind of sound you feel in your teeth, sharp and wrong. The door didn't open fully, just enough for her to slip through. And she did, fast—too fast. The blue of her corset caught the faint light for just a second before the darkness swallowed her whole.
"Hold up!" Kiaran roared, his voice echoing off the stone walls, harsh and raw. He lunged for the door, his hand slamming against the cold metal, but it was too late. She was gone.
The darkness on the other side had taken her, her silhouette dissolving into nothing so completely it was like she'd never been there at all.
"Stupid girl," Kiaran spat, his voice low and venomous, his words curling in the air like smoke. He shoved the door open wider with one powerful motion, his jaw tight, his shoulders tense. "She'll get herself killed."
I stood frozen at the threshold, my body stiff and uncooperative.
But Kiaran didn't hesitate. He stepped forward, his frame rigid, his crimson eyes scanning the impenetrable darkness.
I heard him exhale sharply, his breath coming out in a short, clipped burst. He shifted slightly, rolling his shoulder—a small, almost absent motion, like a habit.
Then he froze.
I frowned, watching him. His posture stiffened, and he flexed his arm, his bicep shifting under bare muscles. He rotated his shoulder again, more deliberately this time, like he was testing something.
"What're you doing?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. The words came out shaky, my nerves betraying me.
"She used it," he muttered, his tone dark and heavy. His hand clenched into a fist at his side, his gaze narrowing on the darkness ahead. "That idiot used her Phantom Requiem on me."
My breath caught. She used it that early? What in that letter that made her quickly heal Kiaran and bolt away.
"Are you sure?" I asked Kiaran
"Of course I'm sure," he growled, his voice low, almost to himself. "Damn it, Estella. That was reckless."
I didn't say anything. What could I say? I could feel his frustration rolling off him in waves, sharp and cutting, and I didn't dare poke at it. He swore under his breath again, the sound barely audible but laced with anger.
Phantom Requiem wasn't just a big spell—it took everything out of a caster. It drained them. Left them vulnerable. And she'd used it on him, without telling anyone. Without a second thought. This was a suicide mission for Estella .
Kiaran there the ends of the doorway, I lingered behind him, still standing at the threshold. The stench from the mansion's interior hit me then, sharp and acrid, clawing at my throat and nose like a physical thing. My stomach lurched, and I instinctively raised my arm to cover my mouth, but it didn't help.
The smell was overwhelming. It wasn't just rot—it was wrong. Something that shouldn't exist. It was decay that didn't belong here, that didn't belong anywhere. My skin crawled, and I shivered violently, unable to stop myself.
"Kiaran," I said, my voice wavering as I forced myself to take a step forward. "This smell... what is this?"
"It's not normal," he said flatly, his gaze locked on the darkness ahead. "This isn't natural decay. This is supernatural rot. Whatever died here..." He trailed off, his expression hardening, his jaw tightening. "It wasn't natural."
The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. I shivered again, my arms wrapping around myself as my eyes darted toward the void where Estella had disappeared.
The silence pressed down on us, thick and oppressive, the faint creaks and groans of the mansion settling—or shifting—making it worse. The whole place felt alive, like it was breathing.
"We need to go after her," I said finally, forcing my voice to steady, though my hands were still trembling.
Kiaran didn't answer me. He just moved, stepping into the darkness with a confidence that made no sense in a place like this.
I followed quickly, my boots scraping against the uneven stone. But the second I crossed the threshold, it was like stepping into another world.
The darkness wrapped around me, thick and suffocating, clinging to my skin like a cold, wet shroud. It wasn't just the absence of light—it was a presence. I couldn't explain it, but I could feel it pressing against me, sliding over me like something alive.
My breathing sounded too loud in my ears, echoing faintly before being swallowed by the void. And the stench gods, the stench.
It grew stronger, sharper, until it was all I could focus on. My stomach churned violently, and I had to grit my teeth to keep from gagging.
"Kiaran," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "I can't see anything."
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