The pub vanished as the floor disappeared under my feet.
I was in the mausoleum. Cold stone. Echoing silence. My eyes scanned the familiar crypts, then settled on a long mirror. A girl with bellowing nightshade hair gazed back at me from the other side. Her eyes were void of emotion, and her lips moved, but no sound came out. None that I could hear. Her eyes widened with fury when she realised it as well.
Her hands struck the mirror, and it shimmered. Where glass should have been was now silver liquid, swirling in the air as she stepped through. I stumbled back, dashing against the damp crypts. Still, she didn’t stop. Her hand touched my cheek, cold and clammy. I winced away, but she leaned into my face, her dark hair dancing as if it were on a honeymoon with the wind.
“Fall,” she ordered.
My brow furrowed.
“Fall!” she screamed before slamming me into the wall. Again. Again. I tried to lift my arms to push her away, but they were numb as if something was anchoring them. She pushed me one last time and the ground vanished beneath me.
I fell backwards into nothing.
“Fall.” Her whisper echoed after me. “And fear the eyes that shimmer like fire.”
I gasped for air, reaching for the tea on my nightstand. My heart pounded hard in my chest as I sat up in the bed, my hair damp from the nightmare. The girl’s words replayed in my head.Fear the eyes that shimmer like fire.I gulped down the tea like I hadn’t tasted water in days. The Belladonna coursed through my veins, warm and slow, like a lullaby hummed from inside my bones. My breath steadied. I pulled theTales of Thornhillonto my lap and searched for a story I remembered reading.
The Tale of the Great Monster’s Return.
They say the Monster walks again.
Not as a beast. But as a human, with fire in its eyes and silence stitched into its shadow.
A creak. Then?—
Knock. Knock.
I stilled, turning my gaze toward the door. The sound echoed, too loud for the hour. I climbed out of bed, my feet pressing against the chilled rug. My fingers closed around the doorknob. I hesitated, my heart rattling like a caged bird, my nightmare still vivid in front of my eyes.
When I gathered myself enough to finally open the door, all that greeted me was the hollow, empty hall. The drumming of my pulse was deafening as I leaned out into the hallway, letting the darkness wrap around me.
She stood at the end of the hallway, blurry and see through enough to catch a glimpse of the grandfather clock towering behind her. The ghost from my room. The one who couldn’t speak, but tried to warn me about the passageways. The hairs on my arms rose. Her face remained hidden by the shadows, but I could feel her watching. Then she moved, vanishing behind the corner.
This time, I didn’t hesitate. I trusted that what she wanted me to see was important.
I took a candle from the wall, the flame jumping to life and flickering wildly as I followed her with haste. The air in the hallway clung cold to my skin as the scent of tallow and old wood smoke settled around me.
My steps were soft, careful, yet sounded loud like a drum in the suffocating quiet. The rug muffled most of my weight, but every creak of floorboard beneath it made me flinch.
Turning the corner, I was greeted by even more darkness. The hallway stretched ahead was completely unlit. The candles lining the walls were cold, unburned. I would’ve found it comforting if not for the ghost wandering ahead.
She drifted forward in a straight line, like she was following a memory, leaving dried leaves and frosted blue petals in her wake.
The corridors grew stranger with each turn. Less familiar. The wallpaper here had peeled into curled scrolls, paint blistering in patches like wounds. The air grew heavy, moist, tasting faintly of mildew and iron.
I followed the scent of lavender and her shimmer. Her gown caught even the faintest kiss of light and threw it back in shivering silver. We mounted a turret staircase, the stone steps slick with condensation. My hand wrapped around the iron rail, cold enough to sting. The next hall narrowed, its walls pressing in on either side. My candle guttered. My breath echoed louder than my footsteps.
Then the ghost stopped.
She hovered in the corridor’s centre, still as bone. Her hair drifted slowly around her, undisturbed by any wind. I froze too, my pulse thudding in my ears.
CRASH.
A trapdoor flew open above her head, and I startled, a sharp gasp leaping from my lips. A folded ladder spilled down like a tongue unfurling from the ceiling.
The ghost turned slowly, her gaze holding mine. Then she raised her arm, her eyes tired, like it cost her everything to stretch her finger—long and delicate—and point at the hole.
I swallowed and stepped forward, reaching for the ladder. The wood groaned under my hand, and I hissed as a splinter slid under my skin. I sucked at the blood and climbed, each step heavier than the last, the air thickening as I rose. My heart hammered inside my rib cage.
