The Haunting of the Old House

A lone droplet of rain fell onto Grayson's hand, prompting him to lift his gaze and note the drizzle descending from the sky. It showered the harbor beneath the veil of night, creating a symphony of plunking notes as the rainwater began cascading off the eaves.

But Grayson's ears weren't privy to only this melody. The persistent patter of the rain amplified the heart-wrenching sobs of a woman echoing through the streets, the dampness mingling with the briny scent of the sea air to paint a portrait of sorrow.

"Why does it suddenly feel so cold?" Katheren, following closely behind Grayson, pulled her collar tight, her body involuntarily shivering - whether from the biting rain or an inner dread, she couldn't say.

"Quiet now; we're almost there." Grayson glanced back to signal for silence, then approached the gate of a courtyard. As he peered through, the woman's lament wove itself into the chill wind and rain.

"Here we are, be careful; we don't know what might be inside." Grayson turned to Katheren and Seraphine, who drew their weapons and nodded acknowledgment.

"Hey, don't slack off up there; keep watch from above," he said to the little owl perched atop his hat.

"I hate the rain; my feathers are soaked and cold, and I want to sleep in my hat..." The tiny owl shook off droplets, splashing Katheren accidentally.

"No excuses; this is no time for slumber!" Grayson unsheathed his silver sword, checked its blade - which thankfully wasn't glowing too fiercely - and reassured himself.

"Seems like our trouble won't be too great." With a backward glance at his companions, he pushed open the courtyard door and stepped through.

They entered the dismal courtyard, withered trees strewn about and no sign of living grass. Ahead, an old, weathered house stood defiantly against the storm.

"Follow me," Grayson whispered, leading them up the decaying steps, avoiding the rotten boards, to the front door.

Just as he reached to push the door open, a loud crash sounded from behind. Katheren, apologetic and panicked, had snagged her foot in the stairs. Grayson gave her a silent look as the cries ceased abruptly.

"Dumb girl, dumb girl," murmured the owl on his hat.

Grayson tapped the brim of his hat to hush her, then beckoned the others closer. Katheren, with Seraphine's help, freed her leg and joined Grayson by the door.

"It knows we're here, but it hasn't fled. Stay sharp," he cautioned, observing the glow of his sword blade before pushing open the door, which creaked ajar.

Inside, the blackened front hall was eerily silent but for the rain's patter. Edging along the wall, Grayson made his way to the living room.

The sword's glow revealed the decay within. Furniture lay overturned, the room a shambles. He navigated through the debris toward the bedroom, but as he crossed the dark corridor, he felt eyes upon him. Wheeling around, sword at the ready, he faced a cloaked figure in the shadows of a closet.

The blade's light unveiled her face - long black hair, a white dress, and a complexion so pale it seemed to glow eerily in the silver light.

Katheren and Seraphine gasped, weapons poised. Grayson pointed his sword at the silent woman, who remained motionless.

He stepped forward, his left hand clawed, and blades shot out, narrowly missing her and embedding in the closet wall behind. Yet she stood still, unflinching.

Grayson retracted the blades, reached out to touch her - only to find her as rigid as stone.

"She's not real!" Grayson turned to the ladies. "Looks like a doll, so lifelike it's uncanny." He advanced toward the bedroom.

The women followed as Grayson approached the bedroom door, which he halted before suddenly. Sensing something amiss, they waited as he spun and flung blades their way.

Dodging aside in shock, the women watched the knives slice past them, embedding into something solid with a clatter.

Looking back, they realized the white-clad figure was not behind Grayson but in the corridor with them, Grayson's blades protruding from her chest.

"What are you, exactly?" Grayson beckoned the blades back, standing between Seraphine and Katheren, eyes fixed on the woman.

"I could ask you the same. Who are you to intrude upon my home?" Her voice flowed softly like the wind, disarming any tension.

"I am Grayson, a demon hunter here on important business. We heard crying, so we came to investigate. Was it you weeping?" Grayson studied her; her vacant eyes betrayed no tears.

"Demon hunter..." she mused, not answering but instead asked, "Can you slay the undead?"

"Of course. If I couldn't, coming to Greyport would be a death wish," Grayson replied, a hint of pride lifting his brow.

"I'd like to test that..." she whispered, clenching her hand into a fist from which a thin, sharp blade emerged. Striding forward, she lunged her sword at Grayson.

He shoved Seraphine and Katheren behind, sidestepping to reappear down the corridor. Her blade met only an afterimage, leaving a deep gash in the wall where he had been.

"You're too slow!" Grayson's voice came from behind. She spun around, only to receive a punch from his bladed hand straight to the chest.

Staggering back, Grayson's blades whirled, severing the woman's head and limbs in a blinding flurry of silver, her dismembered form scattering across the floor.

"I may have overdone it," he muttered, catching the returning blades.

But before he could react further, her severed pieces levitated, reassembling themselves. Dressed anew, she admitted, "You are indeed strong; I have much to learn."

"Flattery will get you nowhere. Who are you?" Grayson demanded.

"My name is Lia, daughter of Greyport's master."

Grayson and the women gasped, surprised. "You're 'Soul of the Sea' Jaxton's daughter? So this is his house?"

"No, this is just my home. My father and his crew dwell on their ship; he seldom visits, only on All Hallows' Eve to see me," Lia retracted her blade, facing Grayson.

"Why do you look like this?" Grayson stepped closer. "As the daughter of an undead captain, why do you have a corporeal form? Why live alone here?"

"I have resided here for many years, long before Greyport became what it is. I've been this way ever since," Lia answered, raising her mechanical hand.

"Perhaps you can tell us what has transpired between you and this port of the dead," Grayson said, taking her hand gently.

Lia mirrored his grip, inviting Grayson, Katheren, and Seraphine to follow her to the living room. They sat on chairs placed in the center, where Lia began, "This spot was my father's abode when he first took Greyport twenty years ago."

"He was at the pinnacle of triumph, feasting and reveling for days to celebrate their claim. My mother and I often joined the revelry, like a queen and princess at a royal banquet."

"But two weeks later, news of a treasure-laden ship reached my father. He set sail with his crew, and we sent them off at the dock to their soaring songs."

Lia paused, sighing as if reluctant to continue, but she resumed, "That very night, two pirate ships moored at Greyport. They weren't my father's men but his sworn enemies..."