Sinister Inheritance

Chapter 3: The Search Begins

   I ran out of that horrible room, my heart pounding in my chest like a trapped bird desperate to escape. A cold sweat dripped down my face, and my hands shook so violently I nearly dropped the candle holder. The putrid scent of decay hung thick in the air, curling into my lungs and making my stomach churn.

But worse were the voices—those taunting whispers of the dead that followed me down the corridor. They clung to me, their words just on the edge of understanding, mocking me, accusing me.

I stumbled down the darkened hallway, barely able to see, my vision blurred by panic. The walls seemed to close in, the shadows twisting and warping, forming faces with hollow eyes that watched me pass. I could feel them pressing closer, their cold, clammy presence wrapping around me, leeching the warmth from my skin.

"Leave... go back..." their voices hissed, weaving together in a sinister symphony.

"No," I gasped, shaking my head. "You're not real. You're not real!"

But the whispers only grew louder, filling my ears until I could barely hear my own thoughts. My father's secrets, the cursed inheritance, the sinister symbols etched into the walls—it all crashed over me in a wave of dread.

I turned a corner, finding myself in the main hall. The high ceilings and dusty portraits of long-dead ancestors felt like they were looming over me, bearing silent witness to my terror. I clung to the banister of the grand staircase, gasping for air, trying to push the voices out of my head.

As I struggled to regain my composure, I became aware of a presence behind me. My blood ran cold, my spine prickling with fear.

Slowly, I turned to face the empty hallway. There, standing in the shadows, was Elias, watching me with that same unreadable expression.

"Running won't change anything, Helen," he said, his voice calm, almost pitying. "The dead are bound to this place, as are you."

I swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking in like ice. "Why me?" I whispered, my voice barely audible. "Why was I chosen for this?"

He stepped forward, his gaze unwavering. "Because you carry the blood of those who wronged them. And only you can set them free."
I was spiraling, my thoughts racing, tangling together in a chaotic web of disbelief and anger. It felt impossible—my father, the man who had preached diligence and honest work my entire life, secretly involved in dark magic. It was as if the ground beneath me had crumbled away, leaving me dangling over a terrifying abyss.

He made a deal with the devil to get us where we were. A chill ran down my spine as I processed the words I'd thought but never could have believed.

My breath hitched, my chest tightening, panic clawing its way to the surface. I was on the verge of hyperventilating.

"Why the hell would my father leave this for me and Edwin?" I spat, my voice breaking. "I don't even know where my brother is or what happened to him. Mr. Taylor only said he wasn't 'forthcoming about family affairs'—whatever the hell that's supposed to mean!" The words tumbled out, raw and unfiltered, my rant consuming me like a fire that couldn't be quenched.

Elias watched me in silence, his expression inscrutable, letting me unravel before him.

I clenched my fists, every nerve in my body fraying. "All I've ever wanted was a life of my own, free from this—this madness. And now I'm expected to clean up his mess?"

Elias's voice was calm, yet there was a hint of something sharp beneath his words. "You aren't expected to do anything, Helen. You have a choice. But know this: whatever secrets your father kept hidden, he left them for you to uncover. He must have trusted that you, out of everyone, would understand... and be strong enough to face it."