The drip of water echoed through the attic. Suddenly, a girl's scream pierced the silence — "Ahhh!!"
A creepy smile spread across the face of the figure dragging a lifeless body.
Just then, people gathered at the stairs leading to the attic. They saw a trail of blood being dragged but couldn't see where it led.
As daylight broke, whispers filled the air. Rumors spread that a murderer lurked within the Marquis mansion, and suspicion fell on the young lady abandoned in the west wing—Lady Vyonne.
Lady Vyonne sat alone in the dimly lit west wing, her fingers trembling as she listened to the distant murmurs echoing through the mansion's halls. The rumors clawed at her mind like restless shadows, painting her as a villain in a tale she didn't understand.
She had always been an outcast, left to the cold silence of the west wing, but now the fear and suspicion threatened to trap her in a cage far worse than loneliness.
Determined to clear her name, Vyonne rose, her eyes sharp with resolve. If the truth was hidden in the darkness of the mansion, she would find it—no matter the cost.
She waited until midnight, then made her move. As she crept through the attic of the main mansion, her earlier confidence wavered. Now, hesitation crept in—this was the dark place no one dared to enter.
She steeled herself and opened the door leading deeper into the attic. From the other side, a faint sound echoed—soft, almost whispering.
The shadows seemed to stretch and twist around her, and every creak of the floorboards echoed like a warning. But she steeled herself; if she was to uncover the truth, she had to face the darkness.
Just then, she felt eyes on her. She glanced around, but no one was there—only dust, abandoned belongings, and forgotten remnants of the past.
Her gaze settled on a strange doll standing against the far wall. It was beautiful, with its eyes closed and dressed in an elegant gown. The doll was almost as tall as she was.
A chill ran down her spine as she wondered why something so exquisite was left to gather dust in the attic.
Just as she was about to explore further, a creak echoed through the attic. Her instincts screamed at her as the sound grew closer. Heart pounding, she quickly hid behind a tall wardrobe across from the doll, holding her breath in the suffocating silence.
She caught sight of a shadow, but it was blurred as thick smoke suddenly filled the attic. The air grew heavy, making it hard to breathe. Struggling to steady her breath, she glanced back toward where the doll had stood—only to find it was gone.
Panic surged through her veins as she scanned the smoky attic, heart racing. Where had the doll gone? The silence pressed in, broken only by the faint crackle of the lingering smoke.
She took a cautious step forward, eyes straining to pierce the haze. Something about the air felt wrong—like the attic itself was holding its breath, waiting.
Suddenly, a soft whisper brushed past her ear, sending chills down her spine.
The whisper came again, barely audible but unmistakable—a soft, almost childlike voice calling her name. She spun around, searching the shadows, but saw nothing.
"Vyonne…" the voice breathed, echoing faintly through the attic.
Her heart pounded louder, but curiosity pushed her forward. "Who's there?" she called, voice trembling.
Only silence answered, but somewhere deeper in the darkness, she sensed something watching—waiting.
From the swirling shadows, a faint silhouette began to take shape—a young girl, pale and ethereal, her eyes shimmering with an otherworldly glow. She stepped forward slowly, her gaze fixed on Vyonne.
"I've been waiting for you," the girl whispered, her voice both haunting and gentle.
Vyonne's breath caught in her throat. "Who… who are you?"
The girl smiled sadly. "I'm the key to the truth you seek. But beware—the answers you want may come at a price."
Vyonne took a cautious step closer, eyes locked on the mysterious girl. "What truth? What price?"
The girl's gaze darkened. "This mansion holds secrets buried deep—secrets that have cursed us all. To uncover them, you must face what lies hidden in the shadows of your own past."
A cold breeze swept through the attic, and the walls seemed to close in. Vyonne swallowed hard, determination flickering in her eyes. "I'm ready. Tell me what I must do."
The girl's smile faded into a serious expression. "Then follow me. But remember, once the path is taken, there's no turning back."
The girl turned and glided silently through the thickening shadows, her form flickering like a candle flame. Vyonne hesitated only a moment before following, each step heavier than the last as the air grew colder.
They descended a narrow, winding staircase hidden behind a tattered curtain, the walls closing in with every step. The faint sound of dripping water echoed from below, mingling with distant whispers that seemed both warning and invitation.
Vyonne's heart pounded fiercely. The deeper they went, the more she felt the weight of the mansion's dark past pressing down on her. Yet, beneath the fear, a spark of hope burned—perhaps here lay the answers she desperately sought.
As they moved further into the mansion's depths, Vyonne's mind drifted back to fragmented memories—whispers from her childhood, moments she had tried to forget. Faces blurred by time, shadows of betrayal and loss.
A cold knot tightened in her stomach. Was this journey meant to unearth those painful truths? The girl beside her seemed to sense her turmoil, her ethereal presence a silent reassurance.
"Don't be afraid," the girl whispered. "Sometimes, the darkest memories hold the key to freedom."
Vyonne nodded, steeling herself. Whatever awaited below, she was ready to face it.
At the bottom of the staircase, they arrived at a heavy, ancient door, its surface cracked and worn by time. The girl reached out, her fingers passing through the wood as if it were mist, and the door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit chamber beyond.
The air inside was thick with dust and secrets. Faint symbols adorned the walls, their meaning lost to time but pulsing with an eerie energy. In the center lay a small, ornate box, its surface etched with delicate patterns that seemed to shimmer in the flickering light.
Vyonne stepped forward, heart pounding. This was the moment—the truth she had been chasing for so long.
Vyonne reached out with trembling hands and slowly lifted the lid of the ornate box. Inside lay a collection of faded letters, a delicate locket, and a small, intricately carved key.
She unfolded the top letter, its fragile paper revealing a confession—a secret long buried within the walls of the mansion. The words spoke of betrayal, lost love, and a curse that had haunted her family for generations.
Her breath caught as she realized the weight of the truth. The locket, she noticed, bore a portrait of a woman who looked hauntingly familiar—her mother.
Tears welled in Vyonne's eyes. The mystery was no longer just whispers and shadows—it was her past, her pain, and perhaps, the key to breaking the curse.
Vyonne clutched the locket tightly, the cold metal grounding her amid the storm of emotions swirling inside. For so long, she had been lost in suspicion and fear, but now, the fragments of her past were beginning to fit together.
Determined, she folded the letters carefully and tucked them into her dress. The key gleamed faintly in the dim light, a silent promise of answers yet to come.
She took a deep breath, wiping away the tears. "I have to end this," she whispered to herself. "For my family, and for myself."
With renewed resolve, Vyonne stepped out of the chamber, ready to face whatever awaited in the shadows of the Marquis mansion.