Seven Deadly Princes

Chapter 1

The large door creaked as it swung inward, the wood feeling so decomposed that it was a wonder it didn't collapse on contact. Amy held her breath when the door hit the wall.

Inside the foyer, she could see silhouettes of decrepit furniture, worn cloth draped over everything there. Dust swirled in the air, stirred by the door opening, visible in the shafts of sunlight that streamed in through the windows. There was an eerie sort of charm to it.

Amy stepped inside, careful to watch for things on the ground. She looked around. It wasn't in horrible condition, though it stank of rotting wood, fabric, and overall of death. She resisted the urge to retch. Instead, she held part of her shirt over her nose and mouth and continued inside. The foyer alone could not provide her with enough information to make an accurate assessment.

She carefully walked through the foyer and to a large staircase that led to the second floor. The boards creaked under her weight, even though there wasn't much weight to hold.

To her right, she caught a glimpse of movement. She dropped the hand holding her shirt and spun, taking a defensive stance. There was...nothing there. Amy could feel her heart pounding in her chest. Even though she knew it was fueled by adrenaline, her rapid pulse gave her pause. She took a deep breath.

"Calm down," she muttered to herself. "It was probably nothing. You're just feeling spooked."

She advanced to the second floor. The stink of decay grew stronger here, hitting her like a wall. She clutched at her stomach, bending over. She pulled her shirt up again, to no avail; the fabric barely did a thing to block the stench. Something must have come in here recently, for the smell to be so strong. The thought made her shudder.

Amy pinched her nose, gulped down some putrid air, and kept walking. The structure itself wasn't in a horrible state; it wasn't about to cave in on itself, anyway. There was hope, if not much, for it. She wondered how it could have gotten so rotted out; its previous owners had only abandoned it about a decade ago. Then again, ten years was a long time...

Motion again. She turned again, more cautiously this time, and withdrew a pocket torch from her pants pocket. She switched it on and shone it in the direction of the movement.

All was silent. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest. There didn't seem to be anything there, but looks could be so very deceiving.

"Is someone there?" Amy called, and then mentally smacked herself. You're in Germany, dummkopf, she thought. If anyone was there, they'd speak German, not English.

No one responded.

Heart still pounding, Amy continued inspecting the house. The stench from before faded. In the back of her mind, the idea that she might not be alone nagged at her. Unsettled her. Every small noise made her jump and reach for her pocket.

She came to a staircase that looked even more rickety than the other set of stairs. She cursed quietly in German before heading up, careful to test each step before putting her full weight on it.

About halfway up, a stair gave out just as she was about to go up to the next. She shrieked and fell forward, bracing herself on the next few steps. She could hear the crack of broken wood, accompanied by her scream, echo and fade. Her heart kept racing. She could feel empty space beneath her foot.

"It was going to happen eventually," she consoled herself. "If not on the way up, on the way down. I'll need to get these stairs replaced."

She clambered up to the next solid step and let herself breathe for a minute. Damnit. Why does stuff like this always happen to me? She thought, irritated. She stood and continued her climb.

The next floor up was noticeably smaller than the lower floors. It wasn't in very good repair. Worse off than the other floors. Amy was careful to test the floor and tread lightly as she walked.

"I wonder why no one bothered to come up here," she mused aloud, glad to have at least a semblance of company.

Then she paused. Although she had inherited the estate, she had never bothered to meet the previous owners. From what she had gathered, they had used the estate only during the holidays. She smiled a little, picturing the festivities that must have been hosted here. She hadn't participated, having been traving quite a bit over the past few years. Even then, her relationship with most of her family was...nonexistent.

She shook her head, reditecting her attention. She stood in front of her door that was rotting, eaten away by who-knows-what. And on it was a plaque, its writing faded, but not as much as it should have been. She wiped away the dust.

"In memory of," she started translating the German into English out of habit, "L-e-- Lena a-m-e-l-i-- Amelie Stark." She frowned. "Says the plaque was commissioned by a Franz Stark."

She hesitated, then opened the door. Inside was the remnants of a nice bedroom. Rather, it once had the potential to be a nice room, save for the lack of furniture. The rotting furniture that was there was certainly nice. The decor was sparse, too; only two paintings hung on the wall, both in suspiciously good condition. She approached the paintings.

They were portraits. One had a tall man, a shorter womana, a teenage boy, and a young girl. A family, most likely. The man was slim, but imposing, with piercing green eyes. The woman was slender with hawklike, blue eyes. The young man had his father's build with his mother's eyes, and his hand rested on the girl's shoulder. There was a hint of a smile in his gaze.

Amy inhaled sharply as her eyes rested on the girl. She had her mother's slender figure, her father's eyes, but something was...off. She looked weak. Her mouth was tilted down into a frown, and for a girl of maybe five, she looked a little too thin. Amy furrowed her brow and turned her attention to the next portrait. There was the same girl in it, accompanied by a taller woman with dark hair and dark eyes.

Something rang familiar about the portraits. Amy took a step back, partially raising an arm in defense. She felt like she knew the girl. It was disorienting.

Her stomach churned. She stumbled back and left the room. What is this feeling? She wondered. The opposite of deja vu? She sighed and put a hand to her forehead. Better to worry about that later. Maybe she'd talk to Ell about it later--

Movement.

She glanced up, but shook her head. It was nothing. Keep walking.

She noticed the manor got darker. There must have been clouds drifting in front of the sun. She huffed and carefully made her way down the stairs, avoiding the one she had inadvertendly broken. She made her way toward the stairs to the first floor.

And something brushed against her arm. Something warm.

Her heart started racing again and she grabbed hold of the something, an arm, then turned and pinned it to its owners' back at a painful angle. The person gasped in pain. Amy took out her pocket torch again and shone it at the person's face, ignoring the smell and her heartrate. Hostility coated her words as she spoke.

"Who are you, and what are you doing here?"