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As they hastened, a loud flash of lightning striking the land outside the house, distracted them. And that was when he pounced. A set of shadowy hands reached out from another doorway, ensnaring Amelia and pulling her into the inky darkness within. The door slammed shut before Finn could act, and a heavy thud echoed through the corridor as something was wedged against it from the inside. Amelia's terrified scream penetrated the wood, filling Finn with raw, cold fear.
"Amelia!" he shouted, panic evident in his voice. Without a second thought, Finn began to violently ram his shoulder against the stubborn door, each impact sending sharp pains through his body. Again and again, he hurled himself against the wooden barrier, desperate to reach Amelia.
With a final, thunderous crash as loud as the storm outside, the door gave way. Finn's eyes darted around the dimly lit room, finally landing on Amelia's crumpled form on the cold stone floor. A thin trail of blood trickled from a cut on her forehead, her breathing labored and uneven.
Kneeling beside her, Finn cradled Amelia in his arms. "I'm here. You're safe," he whispered, his voice trembling.
She looked up at him, dazed but defiant. "I couldn't see his face. He wore a black hood... like the wraith."
Finn's brow furrowed in thought. "He's using the legend. Either he believes he's some kind of reincarnation of the wraith, or he's leveraging the islanders' fear of it to cloak his actions."
Amelia tried to stand, wobbling slightly. "We can't let him get away," she rasped before having to sit down again.
Finn's protective instincts flared. "I'm not leaving you."
With a weak smile and fire still in her eyes, Amelia responded, "You have to. He'll kill again. We can't let that happen. He left through that other door. I think it leads into another part of the house. I'll... I'll be fine. Please, Finn. Go!"
Their eyes locked for a moment, a silent understanding passing between them. Taking a deep breath, Finn gave Amelia a brief, reassuring squeeze and reluctantly charged back into the storm-ravaged halls of Huldra House, the echo of the killer's laughter still taunting him.
As Finn darted through the hallways of Huldra House, the world was deeply troubled outside, the wind now well and truly a hurricane. Thunder growled and the rain spat venomously, both elements acting as nature's symphony to Finn's desperate mission. Suddenly, the lights flickered erratically, casting eerie, shuddering shadows, before going out entirely. The only illumination now came from the intermittent flashes of lightning, capturing the mansion and its players like a flash bulb.
Finn continued on, the darkness failing to deter him. His ears perked up to the sound of the storm's fury being supplemented by the shattering of glass again. But this time, the force was undeniable. One by one, windows exploded inwards, blown in by the force of the gale outside. With every shattered pane, the storm's voice was given entrance, making the indoors almost as chaotic as the outside.
With every step, Finn felt the foundations of Huldra House quiver. The venerable structure, once an imposing monolith, now seemed frail and susceptible to nature's wrath. Finn almost implicitly felt that the house would falter without its Lady.
Suddenly, a dark silhouette came into view at the end of the hallway. The hooded figure stood still for a moment, an ominous presence framed by a burst of lightning, a pitch-black hood across his face. Recognizing his quarry, Finn, driven by anger and adrenaline, charged straight at him.
The two collided with a force that seemed to shake the very walls of the house. They grappled fiercely, fists flying, each trying to overpower the other. Finn could feel the grit and strength of a life spent on the sea in the man’s hands, but he was a son of the swamps and the New World, his own rage and desire to protect gave him an edge.
They rolled on the floor, wrestling, each landing blows. The killer managed to connect a solid punch to Finn's face, momentarily stunning him. But Finn retaliated by leveraging his body weight, flipping the hooded figure over, and pinning him to the ground. With swift hands, Finn reached out and yanked the black hood from the man’s head.
"Bruce?! Bruce McCulloch?" Finn said, already having surmised the truth. The face of the fisherman they'd met at the Fair Folk Inn stared back at him, sweat and desperation evident in his eyes.
Bruce's voice came out in panicked breaths. "You won't get out of here alive, yank. No one will!"
Finn's grip tightened with anger. "I know why you did it, but none of this will bring him back!"
But before Bruce could answer, a deafening crack resounded from outside. Both men turned their heads just in time to see a massive tree, uprooted by the storm, crashing towards Huldra House. The ensuing impact was colossal. The walls buckled, and the ceiling caved in, sending a deluge of debris, wood, and stone crashing down on the two adversaries. Something immensely heavy struck Finn across the chest and he fell. The world turned black and silent.
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
Everything swam before Finn's eyes, a disorienting blend of darkness, pain, and intermittent bursts of color. The pounding in his ears matched the rhythm of his heartbeat, slow and heavy. Each time he tried to pull himself to consciousness, the weight on his chest seemed to pull him under again, stopping him from getting a full breath. He felt like he was going to be crushed to death, one inhalation at a time.
He faintly registered the sound of hurried footsteps. A sense of urgency bubbled up in his semi-conscious mind. The killer! He was getting away! Pushing through the haze of pain, Finn became increasingly aware of the heavy beam pinning him down. With immense effort, he tried to push it off, but it barely budged.
Dizziness then took Finn again, and he felt like the world seemed strangely unreal.
Suddenly, there was a brilliant flash of light, brief yet intense, like an electric arc. As his vision adjusted, Finn saw several slender, pale hands, their fingers long and delicate, gripping the wooden beam. They seemed to glow faintly, and moved with a purpose, pulling at the beam in concert with his own efforts. With their help, the beam lifted and rolled to the side.
Shaken and gasping for breath, Finn pushed himself up, looking around desperately to thank his saviors. But the room was empty. No trace of the ethereal hands or their owners remained. The only evidence that they had ever been there was the now displaced beam and his own freedom. Finn didn't know if he could trust his own eyes anymore.
The room was in ruins. The collapsed ceiling and broken walls surrounded him, splintered to pieces by the old tree. But what drew Finn's attention was a massive gap in what used to be the outer wall. Through it, he could see the raging storm and the silhouette of the fleeing killer, heading straight for the cliffs at the edge of the property. The same cliffs that sat above where Ivar Ward's body had been so brutally chained days before.
Adrenaline pumping, Finn wasted no time. Despite his injuries and the disarray around him, he sprinted after the hooded figure. The wind thrust and pushed, pulling at his clothes and stinging his face with rain. The ground beneath him was slick and treacherous, but he didn't slow down. Every fiber of his being was focused on catching Bruce McCulloch and putting an end to this nightmare once and for all.
The storm's ferocity shaped and contorted the rain, making the cliffside appear as though it was shrouded in a malevolent fog. The blew so violently, it was hard to catch a breath, making each step a calculated risk. Yet, the only thing more perilous than the environment was the man standing before Finn.
Finn, drenched and determined, shouted through the gale, “Bruce! I know about Jamie! Your brother!”
