The voice, a dry rasp against the silence, hung in the air, each syllable a chilling promise. "I know you're here." I clamped a hand over my mouth, stifling a gasp. My heart thundered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat in the oppressive darkness.
The footsteps, deliberate and slow, continued their approach. I risked a glance towards the window, but the overgrown hedges and skeletal trees offered little cover. My only chance was to move, to find another way out.
Silently, I slid along the wall, my fingers brushing against the cold, peeling wallpaper. The air was thick with the scent of dust and decay, a suffocating blanket that pressed down on me. I reached the doorway, the darkness beyond a gaping maw.
I took a shallow breath and slipped into the hallway. The floorboards creaked beneath my weight, each sound amplified in the suffocating silence. I moved like a ghost, my eyes scanning the darkness, searching for any sign of the shadow.
A faint light flickered from the far end of the hallway, a sliver of illumination beneath a closed door. I hesitated, then crept towards it, my hand reaching for the doorknob.
The room was Jason's study, a chaotic mess of papers, books, and musical instruments. A single lamp, its shade tilted, cast long, distorted shadows across the cluttered space. I scanned the room, searching for a weapon, anything that could offer a semblance of protection.
My eyes fell on a heavy, brass candlestick holder resting on a nearby desk. I grabbed it, the cold metal a reassuring weight in my trembling hand.
Suddenly, a floorboard creaked behind me. I whirled around, the candlestick raised, but the hallway was empty. A cold draft brushed against my skin, a phantom touch.
The light from the study flickered, then died, plunging the room into darkness. A low, guttural chuckle echoed from the hallway, sending a shiver down my spine.
"You can't hide," the voice whispered, closer now, its raspy tone laced with amusement. "I always find what I'm looking for."
I knew I couldn't stay. I had to get out. I turned and fled, stumbling through the darkness, my hand outstretched, searching for the back door.
The house seemed to stretch and twist around me, the hallways becoming a labyrinth of shadows. I could hear the shadow's footsteps behind me, a relentless pursuit.
I reached the kitchen, the familiar layout a beacon in the darkness. I fumbled for the back door handle, my fingers slipping on the cold metal.
Finally, the door swung open, and I burst into the night, the biting wind a welcome assault on my senses. I didn't stop running, my feet pounding against the overgrown path, my breath ragged in my throat.
I didn't dare look back. I ran until my lungs burned and my legs ached, until the house was a distant silhouette against the dark horizon.
I found myself on a deserted road, the only sound the rustling of leaves and the frantic pounding of my heart. I leaned against a gnarled oak tree, gasping for air, my eyes scanning the darkness.
I had escaped, but I knew the shadow was still out there, waiting. I had found a lead, the Crimson Theatre, but now I had to find it, and find out what had happened to Elara, before the shadow found me.
I pulled the photograph from my bag, the image of Elara's melancholic smile a haunting reminder of the danger I was in. The Crimson Theatre. I had to find it. I had to find the truth, even if it meant facing the darkness again.