The hallway in the secret room stretched endlessly before her, shrouded in eerie silence. Dust clung to every surface, and the flickering candles cast long, dancing shadows on the cracked walls. As Emma stepped forward, her eyes locked on something that made her heart skip a beat. Massive painted frames hung on the walls, each one staring back at her like ghosts from a forgotten past.
In the first frame, a painting of
herself as a child. Her wide, innocent eyes and curious smile were unmistakable.
Next to it, a grand portrait of her
grandfather, standing proud, with a
mysterious glint in his eyes.
And then, her beloved dog, Buddy, a puppy back then. His familiar collar with the rune emblem gleamed in the painting, just as it had in the attic.
Emma’s fingers trembled as she
reached out to touch the frame
“How.. how is this possible?” she
whispered.
But it was the final painting that
made her blood run cold. It showed
her grandmother, standing with
Buddy at her side. The two of them
seemed almost.. protective, but there
was something unsettling about it.
Something felt off.
Emma shook her head, trying to
dismiss the unease creeping up her
spine.
Suddenly, a rush of blurred memories flooded her mind.
She saw herself as a little girl
running through the manor’s halls.
Her parents were gone-lost in a tragic car accident. Her grandfather
had taken her in, raising her within
these very walls.
On her fifth birthday, he had gifted
her Buddy, a cute little puppy.
“He will protect you, always,” her
grandfather had said with a smile.
But then, the memories darkened.
She recalled her grandfather falling
ill, his body weakening as something
unseen drained his life. His eyes,
usually so full of wisdom, had been
filled with fear during his last days.
“You must go,”‘ he had told her one
morning. “Take Buddy and leave. Stay with my friend. You’ll be safe there.”
Emma remembered crying as she
was sent away. She and Buddy had
grown up in that friend’s house, far
away from the manor. Her memories of this place had been locked away hidden from her mind.
She recalled turning 18, moving out,
and Buddy passing away soon after.
And then-The day she met Max.
The mysterious dog had appeared out of nowhere, as if sent to her
when she needed protection the
most.
As the memories overwhelmed her,
Emma’s eyes darted back to the
paintings. They weren’t just portraits
-they were pieces of a puzzle she
had yet to solve.
A sudden chill swept through the
hallway.
Emma turned, her breath catching in her throat. A shadow was walking
toward her, shrouded in a long, dark
hood.
Her heart raced. The figure moved
with slow, deliberate steps, its
presence filling the air with a
suffocating tension.
“Who’s there?” Emma demanded, her voice trembling.
The figure stopped a few feet from
her. Slowly, it pulled back the hood,
revealing a face that Emma never
thought she’d see again.
It was her grandfather.
His eyes, tired but kind, locked onto
hers. There was sadness in them, but
also urgency.
“Grandpa?” Emma whispered, her
voice cracking.
He nodded solemnly. “I’ve been
trying to reach you, Emma.”
Her mind reeled as she tried to
comprehend what she was seeing.
“You.. you’ve been warning me? The
whispers, the messages?”
“Yes,” he said softly. “I’ve been
watching over you, trying to guide
you back here. You must understand
–there’s more at stake than you
realize.
Emma felt a surge of emotions-grief, confusion, and hope all tangled together.
“But why now? Why did you bring me back?”
Before her grandfather could answer, the shadows around them seemed to thicken. The air grew colder, and a low, guttural growl echoed through the manor.
Emma’s grandfather glanced behind
him, his expression darkening.
“They’re coming,” he said urgently,
“We don’t have much time. You must protect the protector, Emma.”
Emma’s eyes darted to Max, who
stood at her side, his golden eyes
glowing with a strange intensity.
“Max?” she asked, realizing the truth.
Her grandfather nodded. “Yes. He’s
more than just a dog. He’s the last of
his kind. And they will stop at
nothing to take him… to get to you.”
Emma’s heart pounded as the growling grew louder. Shadows twisted and writhed on the walls, moving closer.
“What do I do?” Emma asked, panic
rising in her chest.
Her grandfather’s gaze hardened,
“You fight. For Max. For yourself.
And for the legacy you carry.”
Emma glanced at Max, who stood
tall and unafraid.
As the shadows closed in, Emma
placed her hand on Max’s head.
“We’re ready,” she whispered.
But as she turned toward the
approaching darkness, her eyes darted back to the painting of her
grandmother. The unease gnawed at
her again.
There was something wrong with that painting. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She wanted the answers. She wanted to talk to her grandfather more.
But before she could dwell on it, the
shadows consumed the hallway
plunging them into darkness.
