“That’s impossible,” Michael said. “No one else was here.”
Isabella slept at the hospital that night, sedated. Michael stayed beside her, unable to forget the symbol burned into her skin.
The next morning, back at the mansion, he reviewed security footage himself. Hour after hour—nothing.
Then he noticed it.
At 2:00 a.m., outside Isabella’s room, a flicker. A fraction of a second. Before it—a shadow darker than darkness, sliding along the doorway. No shape. Just absence.
“The shadow man,” he whispered.
Old memories surfaced—his grandmother’s stories about the estate, the secrets beneath it. He searched family archives and found a diary written by his great-grandfather.
Inside was a drawing.
The same symbol.
Beneath it, faded Latin: Custos Aeternum. Hereditas Tenebris.
Eternal Guardian. Inheritance of Darkness.
A noise echoed from the basement—a metallic creak.
Michael descended cautiously. The basement door stood ajar. Cold air rushed out, carrying the same sickening scent.
In the center of the room, the stone floor had cracked open, revealing a hollow tunnel beneath.
From the darkness, a whisper rose—calling his name.