Chapter 27

Mark opened his eyes to the all-too-familiar sight of the crumbling grandeur that is the mansion, an involuntary destination that haunts his dreams without warning.

Fuck me, not again.

The familiar, oppressive silence of the decaying mansion pressed down on him, the moonlight filtering through broken windows casting weird shadows across the dusty floor.

He’d hoped for answers, for some clue to the meaning of these goddamn dreams, to the secrets this place held.

But nothing.

Just more questions, more creepy hallways, more portraits of people staring at him with those empty eyes.

Strolling through the foyer, memories from his initial visit rushed back – the eerie rune that shimmered, the maze-like corridors, that weird-ass room filled with creepy items.

Gone was the initial wonder.

Now, a weary sense of déjà vu settled over him.

Endless hallways, rooms falling apart, mysteries teasing him from the shadows – he’d seen it all before. And every time, it left him with more questions than answers, a gnawing irritation, and a bone-deep weariness.

He walked the familiar paths, searching for anything he might have missed. The library, its shelves lined with ancient books. The dining hall, its long table set for a feast that had never happened. The observatory, its telescope pointed at a sky he couldn’t see. It was all the same.

Nothing had changed.

It’s like this place is playing games with me. At first, he embarked on these dreamy jaunts with a flicker of hope, thinking he could crack the mystery, that he could understand the connection between this place and him.

But now? It was like hitting a brick wall with a neon sign saying “Game over.”

“What the fuck do you want?” he shouted, his voice bouncing through the empty space.

The silence of the mansion felt heavier after his outburst as if it was absorbing his frustration, feeding on it.

Why am I even here? What am I supposed to do?

He’d lost count of how many times he’d been pulled back here, each visit as involuntary, as bewildering, as the last. It felt like a never-ending cycle of confusion and frustration, and he couldn’t break free.

The lack of guidance, the absence of any clear purpose, was seriously messing with his head.

He gripped the talisman around his neck, the cool metal a stark contrast to the restless energy thrumming beneath his skin. Is this thing the key? Is it what’s dragging me back here?

He was tired of this. Sick of wandering through these never-ending hallways, the rooms that felt like they were mocking him with their emptiness, and those darn cryptic hints that just didn’t amount to anything.

Maybe there’s no answer. Maybe I’m just supposed to keep wandering these weird ass place.

His gaze swept over the foyer one last time. The moonlight painted the scene in a ghostly glow. It was beautiful, haunting, but the beauty couldn’t mask the underlying sense of dread, the feeling of unseen eyes watching him.

I’m being watched. The feeling was always there, a prickling sensation at the back of his neck, as if someone, or something, was right behind him.

This place ... it never made him feel like he was alone, not really.

The air crackled with unseen energy, the whispers of the past clinging to the faded tapestries, the dusty furniture, the cracked portraits that seemed to follow him with their hollow eyes.

The weight of their unseen scrutiny bore down on him, but his insatiable curiosity drove him forward, desperate for some semblance of understanding amidst the madness.

He paused in front of a massive mirror, its surface fogged with time, his reflection a pale ghost in the dim light. He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit. I feel like I’m in a horror movie. The one dude who somehow makes it to the end, but he’s never really the same.

For a split second, he caught a glimpse of movement behind him, a quick shadow in the reflection. Whipping around, heart racing, hands crackling, but there was nothing there.

Damn it. His nerves were all over the place, the way this place seemed to toy with his sanity.

He kept moving, that creepy sensation of eyes on him, a shadow he just couldn’t shake.

It felt like they were playing a twisted game of cat and mouse, but he was clueless about his role in it.

Room after room, he searched, desperately looking for anything that could give him a hint, a sign, or some solid lead.

Moving from one doorway to the next, he felt his hope for a breakthrough fading. It hit him hard that, like all the times before, this visit could be a bust.

Frustrated, he slammed his fist into the nearby wall, gritting his teeth against the sharp pain that shot up his arm. But damn, it felt good to let out some steam.

“Story of my freaking life,” he growled, irritation simmering right under the skin.

So many questions, so few answers.

For thirteen long years, he’d been on a wild goose chase, trying to unravel the mystery behind his parents’ deaths. Following leads that turned into dead ends, trusting shady sources, it had been a rollercoaster of secrets and sketchy alliances.

He’d bonded with Ria, discovered his own hidden abilities, faced down terrifying enemies, but the core questions remained unanswered, the puzzle pieces scattered, the picture incomplete.

Sick of all the cloak-and-dagger crap, tired of being kept in the dark. He craved answers - needed them like air - but it seemed fate had other twisted plans for him.

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the dream began to unravel. The solid forms of the mansion – the towering columns, the sweeping staircases, the endless corridors – shimmered, their edges blurring, dissolving into a hazy mist, like a painting left out in the rain.

He sighed, the sound a mix of resignation and disappointment.

Another dead end.

He was used to it by now, the familiar sting of unanswered questions, the fading hope of discovery. He’d walked these halls countless times, searching for truth, for some meaning in this endless cycle of dreams.

But the mansion remained stubbornly silent, its secrets locked away, its mysteries deepening with each passing visit. He was no closer to understanding its purpose, its connection to him than he had been on his first journey into this strange, unsettling place.

The mansion disappeared before his eyes, melting into a whirlwind of light and shadow that twisted his surroundings into a dizzying mix of colors.

The place had a weird hold on him.

The real question was: would it even make a difference?

Will I ever find the answers I’m looking for?

▲▼▲—∞—▼▲▼

“UGHH.”

Mark groaned, his eyes fluttering open, his body heavy with exhaustion that sleep hadn’t touched. Damn that place.

Every time he dreamt of that place, he woke up feeling like he’d run a marathon, his mind a jumbled mess, his body screaming for a week-long nap. He rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off the lingering fog, the echoes of crumbling hallways and whispering voices.

Pale moonlight filtered through the tent’s fabric, casting everything in a soft bluish glow.

He glanced down to see Ria sprawled on top of him, her naked body warm and comforting against his, her chestnut hair a tangled mess across his chest. Cute. He carefully disentangled himself from her sleeping form, his movements slow and deliberate, not wanting to wake her.

Slipping on a t-shirt and pants, Mark ducked out of the tent into the crisp night air.

He took a deep breath, the cool air filling his lungs, clearing his head, grounding him in the present. Much better.

The forest was silent, the trees standing tall and dark against the star-studded sky, the only sound was the gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze. The air was crisp and clean, carrying the scent of pine needles and damp earth.

Four months.

Four long months had slipped by since the showdown at the mansion, bringing with them a surprising stretch of peace and quiet.

College was busy, but manageable, his days filled with classes, study sessions, and the occasional night out with friends – a semblance of normalcy that had surprised him. He’d half-expected everything to come crashing down on them, but so far, things had been surprisingly calm.

Crescent had remained ominously quiet. Ria has been handling her responsibilities there, dealing with her people in her own way. He trusted her strength, her ability to navigate the intricate web of coven alliances and feuds.

This camping trip had been in the works for weeks, a much-needed escape from their hectic schedules. They’d finally managed to sync their calendars, a rare opportunity for them to disconnect, to recharge, to just... be.

Life had settled into a comfortable routine, the chaos of those first few weeks fading into a distant memory.

Except for the mansion. That damn place kept popping up in his dreams. What does it want from me?