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With caution, they followed the sorrowful cries, each step bringing them closer to the heart of Huldra House's secretive son. Reaching the landing, the sobbing became clearer, more pronounced, emanating from a dimly lit hallway that led to another set of stairs.
Amelia hesitated for a moment, her gaze fixed on the staircase ahead. "That leads to the attic," she confirmed, her voice quivering.
As they approached the attic staircase, the sobbing became louder and more desperate, each lament a testament to years of anguish. They found themselves at a heavy wooden door, worn by time, its paint chipped and faded. A rusty padlock hung from a latch, signifying the room's occupant was indeed confined.
Summoning his courage, Finn stepped forward and knocked gently on the door. The sobbing ceased almost instantly, replaced by a deathly silence. After what seemed like an eternity, a voice, shaky and timid, broke the stillness. "Please, let me out."
Amelia's sighed like her heart ached at the vulnerability in the voice. She stepped closer, asking, "Are you being held here against your will?"
A pause. "Yes."
Finn and Amelia exchanged a quick glance.
"We're duty-bound to ensure your well-being," Amelia whispered, her eyes searching the door as if willing it to unlock.
Feeling a surge of determination, Finn re-positioned himself. "Stand back from the door, Nathaniel. I'm going to try and break it down."
With a few steps back to gain momentum, Finn threw his shoulder against the door with all his might. Again and again, he rammed the door, but it stood firm, refusing to yield. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he sighed in frustration. He would have switched shoulders and tried again, but as if to remind him that he wasn't quite 100%, the other shoulder winced again.
"It's no use," he said, panting. "The door's too solid."
Amelia looked at him, worry evident in her eyes. But Finn's face held a spark of determination. "I have another idea," he declared.
Amelia's followed Finn through the winding passages of the old house. Their footsteps echoed eerily in the silent corridor, heightening the tension of the night. The furious storm outside, still trying to find a way inside.
After descending a spiral staircase, they found themselves in a dimly lit room directly beneath the attic. An ornate window framed by heavy velvet drapes was visible, partially obscured by the torrential rain beating against it.
"Here," said Finn, a glint of purpose in his eyes as he moved towards the window. He pushed it open, allowing the howling wind to rush in, carrying with it cold, sharp raindrops that stung his face.
Amelia moved closer, her eyes widening as she took in the sight below. "Finn," she warned, her voice full of concern, "it's too dangerous."
But Finn was already gauging the climb. He could see, the deadly drop to the ground below, and then turning, illuminated by the regular crashes of lightning, a series of stone gargoyles protruding from the building's facade. Each one had a grotesque face that almost mocked him.
Finn was not one to shirk a challenge.
"I think I can make it," he murmured, half to himself, "If I can get to that first gargoyle, I can use them as a makeshift ladder to reach the attic window above."
Amelia hesitated for a split second, biting her bottom lip, "I don't like it, Finn. What if you slip?"
But Finn was already out the window, feet planted on the narrow ledge. He glanced down, swallowing the fear that rose in his throat at the sheer drop below. Taking a deep breath, he made a leap for the first gargoyle, his fingers just catching its weathered surface.
Amelia watched from below as Finn began his treacherous ascent. Every movement seemed agonizingly slow for him, the storm and rain threatening to wrench him from the side of the house with each passing second. Lightning and thunder growled through the dark clouds above.
He had almost reached the attic window. Reaching out with his fingers, touching the stone sill, a particularly fierce gust of wind caught him off balance, and his foot slipped from its precarious perch. Finn's heart raced as he found himself dangling by one hand from the window sill, three stories above the ground. The cold stone, wet and slippery from the rain, provided little grip. He could feel his fingers beginning to cramp, the energy draining from him as he clung desperately to the ledge.
Amelia screamed from below, her voice barely audible above the roaring storm, "Finn, hold on!" Finn looked down and saw her clambering out of the window.
“No! Amelia!” he screamed.
But the relentless rain and the fatigue of the climb were taking their toll. Finn's grip was weakening, the ground below seemed so far away, and the weight of his body threatened to drag him into the abyss. And Amelia wasn't going to get there in time.
One by one, his fingers started to slip.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Finn gasped as the wind and rain battered against his face. His grip was now threadbare. He knew he was going to fall. Amelia was struggling below, trying to scale the first gargoyle to reach him, but she couldn't make it.
His only hope was that somehow he could grab another one of the gargoyles on the way down, but they were drenched in the rain and so even Finn's ever hopeful attitude was now all but extinguished.
