Whispers From The Other Side

The house breathed.

Elara felt it in the walls, in the floor beneath her feet—a living, pulsing thing. The whisper of Asmodiel's name had changed something.

A low hum vibrated through the air, like an ancient mechanism waking from centuries of slumber.

Elara bolted.

She didn't care where she was running, only that she needed to move. The hallway twisted around her, stretching and shrinking in unnatural ways, but she didn't stop.

Then, suddenly—

A door appeared at the end of the hall.

It wasn't there before.

The wood was old, the handle rusted, but a cold certainty gripped Elara's spine.

"This is it."

She had no idea what waited beyond it, but she had to go through.

Her fingers wrapped around the handle—

And a hand covered in decay shot out from the darkness, grabbing her wrist.

A choked scream ripped from her throat.

She twisted, fought, but the grip was unyielding. A figure emerged, its face hollowed, skin stretched thin over jagged bone. A woman—long dead, yet not at rest.

Her lips parted.

And she spoke.

"You must not wake him."

Elara's pulse pounded in her ears.

"Who?" she whispered, barely able to breathe.

The woman's grip tightened.

"The one beneath."

Elara yanked herself free, heart slamming against her ribs. She didn't wait for more warnings—she threw open the door and lunged inside.

The room beyond was nothing like the rest of the house.

It was pristine. Untouched by time, untouched by decay. A library of sorts—shelves lined the walls, filled with books bound in black leather.

And in the center of the room, on a pedestal of stone—

A single book lay open.

Elara approached slowly. The pages were yellowed, the ink faded. Symbols she didn't understand lined the parchment, twisting and curling like something alive.

But it was the drawing that made her stomach drop.

A circle, carved with symbols identical to the ones on the key she carried. And at its center—

A figure with hollow eyes and a grin that split its face.

A name was scrawled beneath it.

Asmodiel.

A gust of wind roared through the room, and the shadows lunged.

Elara barely had time to scream.

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