HH Chapter 10

The mansion was still, the silence broken only by the occasional creak of ancient wood settling into the decay. Dust hung heavy in the air, swirling in the faint light that managed to filter through the broken windows. It felt as though the building was alive, breathing quietly, waiting for something. Charles could feel it, too, a constant, oppressive weight pressing down on him, making it hard to breathe, like the mansion itself was watching them, feeding off their fear.

He stood over Victoria, who lay motionless on the decaying couch in the mansion's grand foyer. She was still unconscious, her skin pale and cold, her body weak from the battle against the Ravagers. Her breathing was shallow, and each rise and fall of her chest seemed like a struggle. Charles had been watching her for hours now, too afraid to leave her side, too afraid of what might happen when she woke.

George and Lily huddled together on the other side of the room. George had bandaged his arm as best he could, though the wound from the Ravager's machete still oozed blood, staining the cloth a dark, sickly red. His face was pale, drawn tight with pain and exhaustion. Lily sat beside him, her hands gripping his uninjured arm, her wide, fearful eyes darting around the room like she expected something to jump out of the shadows at any moment.

"Do you hear that?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Charles glanced at her, his heart skipping a beat. He had heard it too, a faint whisper, like the wind moving through the walls, though the air in the mansion was unnaturally still. The sound was distant, barely more than a murmur, but it was there, threading its way through the silence like a living thing. It wasn't just the mansion creaking under its own weight. It was something else. Something dark.

George grimaced, tightening his grip on his daughter's hand. "It's just the house settling, Lil," he muttered, though his eyes betrayed his own uncertainty. "Old places like this make all kinds of noise."

But Charles knew it wasn't just the house settling. There was something wrong with this place. The mansion felt like a tomb, cold, hollow, and filled with the lingering presence of something that shouldn't be there. The journal he'd found earlier spoke of dark rituals, of sacrifices and madness. Lord Hargrave's words echoed in his mind: "The mansion consumes those within it."

He glanced down at Victoria again, his brow furrowed in worry. She had saved them from the Ravagers, but at a cost. She was slipping further into her vampiric nature with every battle, the hunger gnawing at her from the inside. And now, in this cursed mansion, that hunger was growing stronger. He could feel it.

Suddenly, Victoria stirred, her eyelids fluttering open. Charles knelt beside her, his heart pounding. "Victoria?" he whispered.

Her eyes slowly focused on him, and for a moment, they were filled with confusion. Then the hunger returned. It was there, just beneath the surface, darkening her gaze. She licked her lips, her fangs gleaming in the dim light, and Charles felt a chill run down his spine.

"Charles…" she breathed, her voice weak but edged with something dangerous. "I… I can't…"

"Shh," Charles whispered, gently placing his hand on her cold, trembling arm. "You're safe. We're all safe. Just rest."

Victoria's eyes flicked toward George and Lily, who were watching from across the room, and she swallowed hard, her body tense with effort. "I can feel it," she said, her voice hoarse. "This place… it's amplifying everything. The hunger… it's worse here. It's calling to me."

Charles nodded, though he didn't fully understand what she meant. He had felt the oppressive weight of the mansion, but he hadn't realized it was affecting Victoria in this way. The dark power that had taken hold of the house was feeding on more than just fear, it was feeding on her bloodlust, twisting it, making it harder for her to resist.

"Can you control it?" Charles asked softly, though the answer was clear in the way her body shook.

Victoria squeezed her eyes shut, her face contorting with effort. "I don't know. But I need to try…"

Suddenly, a loud crash echoed through the mansion, sending a shiver of fear through the group. George and Lily jumped to their feet, while Charles instinctively grabbed the knife he had kept at his side since the Ravager attack. Victoria sat up with a jolt, her eyes wide, her fangs bared as she listened to the sound echoing through the halls.

"What was that?" Lily whispered, her voice shaking.

Charles strained to listen, his heart pounding in his chest. The noise had come from deeper inside the mansion, like something had fallen or been thrown. But it was the silence that followed that unnerved him the most. The air felt thick, suffocating, and he could feel the mansion tightening its grip around them.

"We need to check it out," Charles said, his voice low. "Stay close."

He helped Victoria to her feet, though she was still unsteady, and the group slowly made their way toward the sound. Every step they took seemed louder than it should have been, the floorboards creaking beneath their weight. The darkness pressed in around them, and the whispers they had heard earlier seemed to grow louder, echoing in their minds like distant voices carried on the wind.

They followed the sound to the kitchen, a large, decrepit room with broken tiles and rusted appliances. The once-grand space was now a mess of decay, but that wasn't what caught their attention. It was the knife, lying in the center of the floor, glinting in the faint light from the window.

Lily stepped forward, her eyes wide, fixated on the blade. "That wasn't there before," she whispered.

"No," Charles said, his voice tense. "It wasn't."

The air in the kitchen felt colder than the rest of the house, a biting chill that sank deep into Charles's bones. He glanced around, searching for any sign of movement, but the room was still. Too still. His breath fogged in front of him as he crouched down to inspect the knife. The blade was clean, sharp, and recently polished, despite the state of decay in the rest of the room.

"Someone's been here," Charles muttered under his breath.

Lily's eyes remained glued to the knife, her breathing quickening. The whispers that had been so faint before now seemed louder, more insistent, curling around her like tendrils of darkness. She could hear them, soft, seductive, coaxing her to listen. To believe.

&_&He's still here, Lily.&_& The voice was soft, a mere breath in her ear.

&_&Your father isn't gone. You can bring him back. All you have to do is…&_&

Lily blinked, her heart pounding as the words wrapped around her mind like a thick fog. Her father, he was still alive. She could save him. The whispers were telling her how. All she had to do was take the knife. All she had to do was...

"Lily," Charles said sharply, snapping her out of her trance. He had noticed the way her eyes had glazed over, the way she had begun to step toward the blade. "Stay away from it."

She jerked back, startled, her heart racing. "I...wasn't..."

But she was. She could feel the pull, the way the mansion was playing with her mind, whispering lies and promises that felt so real. She looked at the knife again, and for a brief moment, she swore she saw her father's reflection in the blade. He was calling to her.

Victoria, who had been standing silently in the doorway, clenched her fists. "The house is doing this," she said through gritted teeth. "It's trying to break us."

"We need to get out of here," George muttered, his voice cracking with fear. "This place is cursed. We shouldn't have come here."

Charles stood, his grip tightening on his own knife. "We don't have a choice right now," he said. "We need to regroup, rest, and figure out our next move. But we're not safe. Not here. Not anywhere."

Lily's eyes flickered back to the knife, the whispers growing louder in her mind. They were telling her to take it, to use it, to end this nightmare and bring her father back. A wide smile began to spread across her face, her eyes widening with a kind of twisted clarity.

&_&You know what you have to do.&_&

Charles didn't notice the change in Lily right away. He was too focused on keeping the group moving, on making sure Victoria didn't lose control, and on finding some way to escape the mansion's grip. But Lily's mind was slipping further into the fog, the whispers weaving their way deeper into her thoughts, twisting her memories.

&_&If you kill him, your father will come back. The mansion will give him back to you.&_&

She could see it so clearly now. The knife was the key. If she killed Charles, if she spilled his blood, the mansion would return her father to her. He wasn't gone, he couldn't be. She could still hear his voice in the distance, calling to her, begging for her to save him.

The knife seemed to gleam in the dim light, beckoning her, and her fingers twitched, itching to grab it.

Lily's fingers twitched toward the knife, her mind drowning in the whispers, but she hesitated just as her fingertips brushed the handle. A moment of clarity flickered in her wide, maddened eyes as she looked up and saw Charles watching her. He didn't know yet, didn't see what was happening in her mind, but there was something in his gaze that made her hesitate. Something that reminded her of reality, of who she was.

But the whispers came again, stronger now.

&_&He'll betray you, Lily. He's not your friend. He's keeping you from your father.&_&

Her smile widened once more, unnatural and disturbing, and her grip on the knife tightened.

Behind her, George groaned in pain, pulling himself to his feet with great effort. He was pale and weak, his bandages soaked with blood, but he managed to stagger toward Lily. He rested a shaking hand on her shoulder, his touch grounding her, if only for a moment.

"Lily, come on," George rasped, his voice barely a whisper. "We need to stick together… don't… don't listen to it."

Lily blinked, her breath catching in her throat as she felt the weight of her father's hand on her. The whispers faltered for a second, but they didn't disappear. They pushed harder, filling her mind with dark promises, telling her that her father's touch was an illusion, that the only way to bring him back was to kill Charles. Her wide eyes flicked to the knife again.

"We need to move," Charles said, unaware of the turmoil building within Lily. His voice cut through the oppressive atmosphere of the mansion. "This place is playing tricks on us. If we stay here too long, we'll be trapped in its web. We need to get out."

Victoria moved beside him, her gaze sharp and predatory, but controlled. She could feel the pull of the mansion's power just as much as Lily could, but she was stronger, she had fought the hunger for years. Now, she was fighting the influence of this cursed place. Charles glanced at her, relieved that she seemed to be holding herself together.

For now.

"Lily," Victoria said, her voice soft but firm. "Let's go."

Lily's breath hitched as she clutched the knife to her chest, the smile fading from her lips as her eyes flickered with confusion. The voices were loud, screaming in her ears now, but the sight of her father, pale and wounded, was enough to hold them at bay. For now.

"Okay," she whispered, her voice fragile, almost breaking. "Okay…"

They left the kitchen, the faint glow from the knife casting long shadows on the walls as they moved. The mansion groaned around them, the air thick with an unseen malice that seemed to press closer the deeper they ventured. Every step felt like they were walking further into the heart of something ancient and wrong.

Charles led the way, his grip on his own knife firm as he navigated the maze of darkened hallways. The mansion seemed to shift as they moved, as though it was rearranging itself to confuse them. Doors that had been open earlier were now closed, and hallways that had once led to other rooms seemed to stretch into nothingness. He could feel the walls closing in, the air growing colder, and the faint sound of whispers becoming louder with each passing moment.

Lily followed close behind, her grip on the knife tightening with every step. She could still hear the voices, whispering, coaxing, urging her to act. They promised her everything she wanted, everything she had lost. They told her that if she did what they asked, the mansion would give her father back, that he would be alive again, whole and unhurt.

She glanced at Charles, her eyes narrowing as the whispers took hold of her mind once more.

&_&He's the one standing in your way, Lily. Kill him, and your father will live.&_&

Her steps slowed, her breathing becoming more shallow as the weight of the knife in her hand grew heavier. The smile returned to her lips, slowly, as the madness took hold.

But before she could act, a loud crash echoed from somewhere ahead. The group stopped in their tracks, their breath catching in their throats. Charles's heart pounded in his chest, his grip tightening on his knife as he scanned the shadows for any sign of movement. The noise had come from somewhere deeper inside the mansion, something had fallen, or been broken.

"What was that?" George asked, his voice weak and strained. His face was pale, his wounds still bleeding, and every step seemed to cost him more energy.

"We need to keep moving," Victoria said, her voice low and controlled. She could sense the danger growing, feel the malevolent presence closing in around them. The mansion wasn't just haunted, it was alive, and it was feeding on their fear, twisting their minds, making them question reality itself.

Charles nodded, though the unease in his stomach was growing. He motioned for the group to keep moving, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching them from the shadows, something far worse than the Ravagers or even the mansion itself.

As they pushed forward, the mansion seemed to grow colder, darker, and more hostile. The walls groaned and creaked, and the faint sound of footsteps echoed from somewhere far behind them. The whispers returned, louder now, filling the air with their insidious promises. Charles felt a cold sweat break out on the back of his neck as the weight of the mansion pressed down on him.

Suddenly, Lily stopped. Her breath hitched in her throat, and her wide, manic eyes locked onto Charles's back. The knife in her hand felt heavy, like it was guiding her movements, and the whispers were almost deafening now. They screamed at her to act, to do what was necessary. She could feel her mind unraveling, the promises of the mansion clawing at her sanity.

&_&Kill him,&_& the voices urged.

&_&Do it now, and your father will be saved. You'll see him again. He'll be with you. Forever.&_&

The smile on her face grew wider, her grip on the knife tightening until her knuckles turned white. She took a step toward Charles, her heart pounding in her chest, the voices screaming in her ears.

But just as she was about to raise the knife, Victoria turned.

"Lily," she said, her voice sharp and commanding. "What are you doing?"

Lily froze, her eyes locking with Victoria's. For a moment, the madness faltered, and the smile faded from her lips. But the voices were still there, whispering, urging her to act. She looked down at the knife in her hand, her chest heaving as she struggled to breathe.

"I… I was just…"

"Lily," Charles said, his voice low but firm. "Put the knife down."

Lily's hands trembled as she stared at the blade, her mind warring with itself. The whispers were so loud, so convincing. She could feel her father's presence just out of reach, as if he were standing right behind her, waiting for her to make the choice. Waiting for her to free him.

But Charles's voice broke through the fog in her mind, just enough for her to realize what she was about to do. With a choked sob, she dropped the knife, the blade clattering to the floor with a sharp, metallic sound.

Victoria stepped forward, her gaze softening. "You're not alone, Lily. Don't listen to the house. It's trying to break us."

Lily nodded, her body shaking with fear and guilt. She collapsed to her knees, her hands covering her face as the weight of what she almost did settled over her.

Charles quickly stepped forward, crouching beside her. He placed a hand on her shoulder, his voice soft but steady. "It's not your fault, Lily. This place… it's messing with all of us."

Lily's breath came in ragged gasps as she wiped her tear-streaked face. She couldn't speak, couldn't find the words to express the fear and confusion swirling in her mind. All she could do was nod, still trembling as the madness receded, though it didn't disappear entirely.

Victoria picked up the knife, holding it at her side as she glanced at Charles. "We need to keep moving. The longer we stay here, the worse it's going to get."

Charles nodded. He helped Lily to her feet, his heart heavy with the realization of how close they had come to losing her, to losing everything. The mansion wasn't just a building, it was a trap, a place where reality itself twisted and warped. It fed on fear, on grief, on blood, and it wasn't finished with them yet.

They continued deeper into the mansion, the air growing colder with every step. The walls seemed to shift around them, the floor creaking beneath their feet as though the house itself was alive, guiding them toward something. Toward whatever dark force had taken over this place.

As they reached the end of the hallway, Charles spotted a heavy wooden door, slightly ajar. It looked different from the other doors they had passed, older, more ornate. He stepped forward cautiously, pushing the door open with a soft creak.

The room beyond was vast and shadowed, the faint light of the moon filtering through tall, cracked windows. Dust filled the air, and the stench of decay was overwhelming. In the center of the room stood a large, stone altar, covered in strange, dark stains, stains that looked far too much like blood.

Charles's stomach turned as he stepped closer, his eyes widening in horror. This was the place, the source of the dark entities.

Charles's stomach churned as he stepped closer to the altar, his eyes locked onto the dark stains that marred its surface. The atmosphere in the room was thick, oppressive, as though the very air was saturated with the weight of countless atrocities committed here. This was no ordinary place of worship, this was a sacrificial altar, and whatever rituals had been performed here were ancient, malevolent, and drenched in blood.

He could feel the presence of something dark, something far older than the mansion itself, stirring beneath the surface. It was as if the walls were breathing, the very structure of the house alive with the echoes of centuries of death and suffering. The whispers grew louder, swirling around him like a dark cloud, their insidious promises filling his mind.

&_&We've been waiting for you…&_&

Behind him, Victoria stood still, her eyes narrowed as she sensed the shift in the air. She, too, felt the malevolence, the way it pulsed like a heartbeat through the mansion. Her vampiric instincts flared, warning her of the danger, but there was something more. Something familiar about the energy that flowed through this place. It was like the hunger that gnawed at her, twisted and ancient. It called to her, just as it had called to others before.

"This is where it began," she whispered, her voice trembling with an edge of fear she hadn't shown before. "This is where the house was bound… to something else."

Charles turned to her, his brow furrowed. "Bound to what?"

Victoria shook her head. "I don't know. But whatever it is, it's waking up."

A sharp intake of breath made them both turn toward Lily. She had wandered closer to the altar, her eyes wide, her expression blank. Her lips parted as if she were about to speak, but only a soft gasp escaped. She was drawn to the dark energy emanating from the stone, her mind still frayed from the mansion's influence. Charles hurried toward her, grabbing her arm gently but firmly, pulling her back from the altar.

"Lily, don't..." he began, but her eyes flicked toward him, and for a moment, there was a flash of something terrifying behind them. A madness, raw and visceral.

Her voice was a hoarse whisper. "He's here… my father… he's in the walls."

Charles swallowed hard, shaking his head. "No, Lily. It's not real. This place is messing with your mind."

But she shook him off, her gaze fixated on the altar. The whispers were loud now, deafening, and Charles could feel them too, curling around his thoughts, twisting reality. They were telling Lily that her father was trapped here, in the very foundation of the house. That if she just… let go… if she gave in, she could free him.

"Lily, stop!" George cried out, stumbling forward, but his voice was weak, his injuries too severe for him to act quickly.

Before anyone could react, Lily broke free from Charles's grip and lunged toward the altar, grabbing the knife she had dropped earlier. Her fingers curled around the handle with white-knuckled intensity, and the same wide, deranged smile from earlier spread across her face.

"I have to do it," she muttered to herself, her voice trembling with manic determination. "I can bring him back… I can bring them all back…"

Charles's heart raced as he watched Lily lift the knife, her expression twisted with madness. She raised the blade toward her own arm, her eyes wild with the promise of what the mansion had whispered to her.

"Stop!" Charles yelled, lunging toward her, but Victoria moved faster. In a blur, she was at Lily's side, wrenching the knife from her hand with a swift, brutal motion. Lily screamed, a high-pitched, desperate sound, but Victoria's grip was ironclad.

"No, Lily," Victoria said through gritted teeth, her fangs bared slightly as she fought to restrain the younger girl. "It's lying to you. This place, it's feeding on your grief. You can't bring him back."

Lily collapsed into sobs, her body shaking violently as the weight of everything crashed down on her. The knife clattered to the floor, forgotten. Charles knelt beside her, wrapping his arms around her trembling form as she broke down completely, the madness in her eyes fading but leaving behind a shattered, broken girl.

"It's not real, Lily," he whispered, his own voice barely steady. "Your father's gone, but this, this isn't him. It's the house. It's trying to control you."

Victoria dropped the knife and backed away slowly, her hands shaking. The pull of the mansion was stronger than ever, its whispers clawing at her own mind. She could hear them, feel them calling to her, promising her the strength she so desperately craved. But she couldn't give in. Not now. Not when they were so close to understanding what this place truly was.

George, pale and trembling, shuffled toward his daughter and collapsed beside her, pulling her into his arms. His injuries had weakened him beyond repair, but seeing Lily like this, broken and lost, seemed to bring him a renewed sense of purpose. He murmured reassurances to her, though his voice was thin, fragile, as if he might disappear at any moment.

"We need to leave this place," Charles said, his voice low but urgent. "Now. Before it gets worse."

But as he spoke, the room shifted. The shadows seemed to stretch and twist, warping the very fabric of reality. The air became impossibly thick, suffocating, and the whispers grew louder until they were no longer whispers, but a cacophony of voices. They weren't just inside their heads anymore, they were filling the room, reverberating off the walls, echoing from the very stones of the mansion.

Victoria's breath caught in her throat as she turned toward the altar. The dark stains on the stone pulsed, almost as if they were alive. The voices weren't just echoes of the past, they were coming from below. From something deep beneath the mansion.

"This house isn't just haunted," Victoria said, her eyes widening with realization. "It's trapped between dimensions. Something is trying to come through, and it's feeding on us to break the barrier."

Charles stared at her, his mind reeling. Trapped between dimensions? It didn't seem possible, but then again, none of this was. The mansion had already defied every law of reality he knew. He glanced at the altar, the dark stains on the stone, the way the very air seemed to warp around it.

"Something's down there," Charles muttered, his voice barely audible over the deafening whispers. "It's not just the house… it's what's beneath it."

Victoria nodded, her face pale. "The rituals. The sacrifices. They weren't just to summon spirits, they were to break the dimensional barrier. And it's almost done."

Suddenly, the floor beneath them began to tremble. The entire mansion groaned, as though it were alive, the walls warping and twisting in on themselves. The temperature plummeted, and the air grew thick with the smell of decay. Shadows gathered around the altar, swirling like a dark vortex, pulling the light out of the room. The voices were deafening now, rising to a fever pitch, filled with rage, hunger, and promises of unspeakable horrors.

Lily screamed again, her eyes wide with terror as she clung to her father. George held her tightly, though his strength was fading fast. Charles grabbed the knife Victoria had dropped, his heart pounding as the ground beneath them cracked, the stone splitting open to reveal a dark, bottomless chasm.

From the depths of the chasm, something stirred.

A low, rumbling growl echoed through the room, shaking the very foundations of the mansion. Charles could feel the weight of its presence, ancient and terrible, pressing down on them like an invisible hand. Whatever was beneath the mansion, whatever had been trapped for so long, was waking up.

"We have to go!" Charles shouted, pulling Lily to her feet as the ground continued to tremble. "We have to get out of here!"

But before they could move, a dark, shadowy figure began to rise from the chasm, its form twisting and shifting like smoke, but solidifying into something monstrous. Its eyes glowed with a sickly, otherworldly light, and its mouth stretched into an unnatural, jagged grin.

The mansion had finally revealed its true nature.

Charles's blood ran cold as the thing took a step toward them, its enormous, shifting body filling the room with a suffocating darkness. The whispers in his head screamed louder, telling him to run, to flee, but there was nowhere to go. They were trapped.

The figure loomed over them, its eyes gleaming with malice as it opened its mouth to speak, its voice a deep, guttural growl that echoed through their very souls.

O.O You… cannot… escape. O.O