Whispers of Hollow Manor...
The days blurred into restless nights. Clara barely slept anymore, not with the house whispering in every corner, not with Eliza's presence coiling through her dreams. When she did drift into slumber, she always woke with the taste of cold air in her lungs, as if she had been walking the corridors in her sleep.
Adrian came to her less and less. His form was weaker now, as though the manor itself was tearing him apart, unraveling what was left of him. Each time she saw him, his eyes carried the weight of centuries, but also a sorrow so raw that Clara's heart broke anew.
One evening, when the storm had finally quieted and the moonlight stretched silver across the broken windows, Adrian appeared at her side in the great hall. He looked tired, more shadow than man, yet he stood tall as though clinging to his last fragments of strength.
Clara touched the space near his arm, wishing she could anchor him. Tell me the truth, Adrian. All of it. What curse holds you here?
His gaze lifted to the painted ceiling, cracked and faded with time. I was heir to this manor, Clara. Hollow Manor was once alive with laughter, with music, with love. But I broke a vow. A vow made in blood. Eliza and I… we were bound not only by marriage but by a pact with forces we should never have touched. I betrayed her heart, and in her rage she bound me to this house. Bound us both. She could not forgive, and the house took her bitterness and grew fat upon it. It feeds on longing, on sorrow, on the ache of unfinished love.
His voice trembled. I have endured it for centuries. Watching. Waiting. Hoping for an end. And now you… you have given the house new strength. It wants you, Clara. It whispers because it knows your heart leans toward me. And that is the cruelest trap of all.
Clara felt the sting of tears. Then let it take me. If it means I can be with you, I don't care what becomes of me.
Adrian turned on her, his form flaring briefly with anger, or perhaps desperation. No. You cannot speak such words. To give yourself to the house is to lose your soul, to become another whisper in these halls, another shadow clawing at the living. That is no love, Clara. That is damnation.
Her chest ached at the distance between them, the impossibility of their bond. She stepped closer, defying the chill that radiated from him. Then tell me what must be done. Tell me how to free you. Even if it costs me everything, I would rather fight than stand idle while you fade into nothing.
For the first time, Adrian looked away, his jaw tight with conflict. Then, with a sigh that seemed to come from the depths of the earth itself, he spoke. The only way to end this curse is through release. One of us must sever the bond. If you speak the final vow… you could set me free. But it will mean I pass beyond this world forever. You will never see me again.
The words struck like knives. Clara staggered, gripping the crumbling railing of the staircase. To free him was to lose him. To keep him was to condemn herself. The house seemed to listen, the walls groaning with hunger, eager for her decision.
Adrian stepped closer, his fading hand brushing the air near her face. I would rather know you lived, Clara. That you walked beneath the sun, that you laughed, that you loved again. Even if not with me. That is the only gift left I can give you.
Her heart shattered at the tenderness in his words. But what of us? What of what we feel? Is love not worth defying even death itself?
Adrian's form flickered, his voice a whisper now. Love is not possession, Clara. It is sacrifice. And if you love me, truly, you will let me go.
Tears slid down her cheeks as the manor around them sighed, its whispers thickening like a chorus pressing against her mind. Stay… stay… stay…
Her voice broke. And if I cannot?
Adrian's gaze met hers, soft as dusk. Then the house will have you. And you will never leave Hollow Manor again.
The candles in the hall snuffed out, plunging them into darkness. The choice was upon her.