Weeks had passed since Elric awakened the house and became its new keeper. By day, he explored its many rooms—each more peculiar than the last. There were libraries where books whispered their contents aloud, staircases that shifted direction, and a greenhouse that grew herbs which glowed, sang, or tried to bite your fingers.
At night, he dreamed of Alara.
She never spoke, only watched him from across vast fields of stars or walked through firelit corridors he had yet to discover. Her eyes held sorrow—and warning.
One evening, as the sun dipped below the hills, casting long shadows over Eldermire, Elric noticed something strange. The flowers around the house—so vibrant since the restoration—began to wilt. Birds stopped singing. The air grew cold.
Then, from beneath the floorboards of the house, came a sound: a low whisper, like wind dragging across broken glass.
Elric descended into the basement, lantern in hand, following the noise. The cellar now stretched further than before, with new doors and hidden passages that hadn't existed a week ago. The house was changing again.
He paused before an arched door of black stone, etched with symbols that shifted when stared at too long. A warning hung above:
"Speak not to the shadows, or the house shall remember its pain."
But the door was slightly open.
Inside was a room of mirrors, each reflecting not Elric, but other versions of him—some older, some cruel-eyed, some broken and weeping. In the center stood a cracked mirror shrouded in smoke.
A voice rose from it: "You woke the light… but not all was light within."
The mirror shattered. Smoke poured into the chamber, forming a tall figure cloaked in shadow, its face hidden beneath a cracked porcelain mask.
"Who are you?" Elric demanded, stepping back.
"I am what Alara locked away," it hissed. "The other half. The cursed magic. Her final mistake."
It surged forward, but the room blazed with golden light. A protective barrier flared up, repelling the creature. The figure shrieked and vanished into the walls like mist.
Elric ran upstairs, heart pounding. Books flew open as he passed, pages fluttering, warning him in forgotten tongues. At the hearth, the fire roared on its own, and from the flames stepped a flicker of Alara's spirit.
"You have opened the Shadow Room," she said, her voice like wind through chimes.
"I didn't mean to!" Elric cried.
"But now it is awake," Alara whispered. "That which I could not destroy… only seal."
Elric knelt before her. "Tell me what I must do."
She touched his forehead, and a vision poured into his mind: a hidden tower beneath the house, buried deep within the earth. A final lock. A chamber of balance.
"There lies the key," she said. "But only one with a heart unclouded by fear can reach it."
The vision faded.
Elric knew what had to be done. He packed what he needed—spell scrolls, the silver dagger from the garden vault, and a vial of Phoenix sap from the singing tree. As the house groaned around him, he descended once more.
Beneath the house, the shadows stirred. They knew he was coming.
And they were hungry.
But Elric, keeper of the forbidden house, would not run. Not anymore.
To be continued…