Following the chilling success of their first collection, Lady Eckland, Glenn Riley, and new collaborator, Bella Darkwood return to guide you through the shadowy corridors of fear with their second compendium, *Whispers In The Dark 2*. These master...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Whispers of Malplaquet: A Soldiers Account And Warning
The night air was still, not even a whisper of wind to stir the overgrown foliage surrounding the abandoned estate. My men were weary from the long march, but I could not risk stopping at a local inn or farmhouse. Secrecy was paramount on this covert mission deep in the rural French countryside. Letting villagers glimpse Napoleon's elite Imperial Guard troop would arouse suspicions. No, far better to seek shelter here in this decaying mansion the locals feared, where no prying eyes would follow.
As we approached on horseback, the estate of Malplaquet rose before us, as silent and foreboding as a tomb. Rumors abounded among the local peasants of ghosts and black magic haunting its derelict halls. Murmured tales of demons, witchcraft and madness were attached to its crumbling walls. The very name Malplaquet evoked foreboding and fear, driving away even treasure hunters who would plunder whatever riches remained.
I was not troubled by peasant superstitions, but could not deny a growing sense of unease. Perhaps it was simply exhaustion overtaking my men, but their steps seemed to slow and falter as we passed the wrought iron gate. The mansion itself exuded an aura of decay and malevolence, its jagged silhouette stark against the night sky. Dismounting, I resolved to shake off this disquiet. Iron discipline had carried us through endless campaigns; it would not fail us now.
Entering the mansion’s cavernous foyer illuminated by pale moonlight, the roots of unease dug deeper. Moldering tapestries and warped furnishings draped in dusty webs and tattered cloth hinted at long abandoned luxury. The air was oppressively still, heavy with the cloying scent of decay. The fine hairs on the back of my neck prickled as we explored room after room, the swirling dust masking secrets I was increasingly unsure I wished to uncover. My men, these veteran soldiers who feared no earthly enemy, grew wide-eyed as shadows seemed to shift and stir of their own volition. Whispers echoed faintly down the corridors, sibilant and mocking.
By unspoken assent, we barred ourselves into what seemed the most defensible chamber, an old drawing room off the main hall. My second-in-command Claude kept watch by the door while I tried vainly to rest, growing ever more convinced this mansion was not as deserted as it first appeared. Measureless hours dragged by until Claude shook me urgently awake. Beyond the barred door, echoes of anguished screams and demonic laughter permeated the still air. Claude’s face was bloodless as he hoarsely recounted shadowy forms drifting along the corridors. My men whispered prayers and white-knuckled their sabers, flinching at skittering sounds from inside the very walls.
None of us slept again that night.
With daylight, some small measure of courage returned. I resolved to search the accursed mansion and prove the night’s terrors were mere figments of exhaustion. Saber drawn, I flung wide the drawing room door, Claude and two guards at my back. All was dust and silence once more. My bravado returning, I pressed deeper into the mansion, hunting an explanation for what haunted this godforsaken estate.
