Fate of deception

Chapter 42 - Amir's POV

The darkness closed in around us, thick and stifling, like the silence after a scream. I kept my gaze fixed ahead, refusing to let it wander to the portraits or the shadows that seemed to breathe and stretch against the walls. It felt like they were holding something back, something old and feral, a secret this mansion had buried deep. And if I looked too long, if I dared to turn around, I had the sick feeling it would break free.

Umaizah's hand in mine was the only real thing in this place. Her grip was tense, tight, but I could feel her pulse thrumming through her fingers—a lifeline I clung to even as I tried not to let her see just how afraid I was. I wanted to be the steady one, the one who could get us out of here, but fear clung to my insides like damp mold, spreading and rooting in every corner of my mind.

It took everything in me not to run. I knew if I let myself break into a sprint, this place would turn on us, pouncing like a predator that's been biding its time. Every step we took felt like treading on the edge of a trap, a thread stretched too tight. I could almost hear it creaking, ready to snap and pull us under.

The hallway stretched ahead, impossibly long, twisting like a maze with no end, no exit. The light here was faint, a pale, ghostly hue that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere, casting just enough shadow to keep us guessing what was hiding in it. I felt a pulse through the floorboards, faint and rhythmic, like the heartbeat of something vast and unseen, lurking just beneath the surface. Each step we took sent small vibrations through my feet, as though we were walking across the skin of something living.

"What do you think is at the end of this?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper, half-hoping Umaizah wouldn't hear. I didn't want to know what answer this place would give her if she tried to find one. But she just shook her head, eyes fixed straight ahead, her lips pressed in a hard line.

I could feel something shifting inside her—like she'd already made peace with whatever ending lay ahead. And the look in her eyes, that quiet resignation, terrified me more than anything in this house. I tightened my grip on her hand, but she only pulled away, a small, necessary distance that felt like miles.

My skin prickled as we passed a doorway on our left, and I forced myself not to look, not to let my gaze wander into that blackness. But it was hard to ignore the feeling that we were being watched, that whatever lurked in the shadows behind that doorway was more than just a trick of the dark. It felt... expectant. Like it knew we would look back. Like it was waiting for us to make that mistake.

I had to keep reminding myself to breathe. The air was thick here, and each inhale tasted bitter, like ash. The silence was heavy, bearing down on me, pressing me inward until my own thoughts sounded loud, too loud. A memory surfaced—something I'd buried a long time ago. My father's voice, harsh and low, warning me to stay out of places that felt wrong, warning me that curiosity was a weakness in places like this. I'd laughed it off back then, told myself I wasn't afraid of ghosts, that his words were just the product of too many sleepless nights.

But here, now, I understood. In places like this, curiosity didn't just kill you. It lured you in, peeled you open, left you empty, hollowed out, like the faces in those portraits.

A flicker of movement caught my eye, something darting just at the edge of my vision, but when I turned, there was nothing but darkness. The shadows here had their own shape, their own intent, as if they could coil and tighten around us, waiting for the right moment to squeeze. I thought of Umaizah's face when she'd seen that pendant on the portrait, the way her eyes had widened, and for a fleeting second, she looked like she remembered something, something awful.

"We're going in circles," she murmured, her voice breaking into my thoughts, low and tense. "Or it's moving us, somehow. Doesn't it feel like we've seen this hallway before?"

I nodded, feeling a sick twist in my stomach. She was right. Everything here felt wrong, like we were chasing our own shadows in a loop that had no exit. I could feel the walls breathing, exhaling that stale, decaying air, a rhythm that matched the pulse in the floor beneath our feet.

Ahead, another door appeared, massive and dark, its surface gleaming faintly as if slick with some oily sheen. I stopped, something in my gut screaming to turn back. But Umaizah moved forward, her hand reaching for the handle, her gaze fixed on it with a strange, glassy look, like she'd already crossed the threshold in her mind. My pulse quickened, and I reached out, grabbing her wrist, feeling her skin cold and tense beneath my hand.

"We can't," I said, my voice sharper than I'd meant. "Something's wrong with this one."

She looked at me, eyes sharp, like she was trying to shake herself out of whatever hold the door had on her. But there was something else there too, a look that told me she was ready to do whatever it took, that she'd let the darkness pull her under if it meant an escape, even if it was a final one.

"Then what do you suggest?" she asked, her voice like steel. "Do you have any better ideas, Amir?"

The silence swallowed my answer, thick and accusatory. I didn't have anything to offer her, no solutions, no promises, just the gnawing dread that whatever lay behind that door was worse than anything we'd seen yet.

And then, from behind us, I heard it: footsteps. Slow, dragging, as if someone—or something—was pulling itself along, coming closer, inch by inch. The sound scraped across my nerves, raw and sharp, and I fought the urge to look back, to confirm the dark shape I felt pressing at my back.

"Go," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "Whatever it is... it's coming."

I could see the fear flashing in Umaizah's eyes, quick and fierce, and for a second, she looked almost like she wanted to argue, to demand answers. But she didn't. Instead, she turned back to the door, twisted the handle, and pushed it open, the darkness beyond spilling out like ink, thick and suffocating.

Together, we stepped through, into a room that seemed to stretch forever, shadow swallowing shadow, until there was nothing but blackness all around us. And behind, the door clicked shut with a finality that echoed through the silence, trapping us in whatever lay ahead.

The floor was cold beneath my feet, a polished stone that seemed to pull the warmth from my bones. I tried to steady my breath, but the darkness pressed closer, wrapping around us, settling like a weight on my shoulders. Umaizah moved beside me, silent and tense, and for a moment, I felt that familiar urge to reach out, to grab hold of her hand. But I stopped myself, remembering the feel of her pulling away, her need to keep this distance, as if our survival depended on it.

Ahead, a faint light flickered, small and weak, barely more than a pinprick. We moved toward it, each step slow and tentative, as though the ground might drop out from under us at any moment. And with each step, the darkness seemed to ripple, shifting around us, reshaping itself, closing in tighter and tighter.

The light grew closer, a single candle, flickering atop a low table. Its flame was a strange, pale blue, casting a dim, unnatural glow that barely pierced the surrounding dark. And in its light, I could see something resting beside it—a small silver pendant, shaped like an eye, gleaming faintly.

I froze, my heart hammering in my chest. It was the same pendant from the portrait. The same one that had watched us, followed us with that empty, unblinking stare.

"It's... the same," Umaizah whispered, her voice thick with dread. And I knew, with a sick certainty, that this wasn't coincidence. This place wasn't just watching us; it was waiting for us, leading us to something, some final piece that had been hidden until now.

In the flickering blue light, the shadows shifted again, and I felt a presence coil around us, close and hungry, like the mansion itself had finally decided it was done waiting.