Sebastian stood still for a moment after the old woman finished talking, his gaze distant, calculating the threads of the story weaving together behind his eyes.
Then he spoke.
"If she had the boy brought here… and truly killed him," he said slowly, "then that is very likely the source of all of this."
The Count looked at him as though the words themselves were knives.
"The specter. Her 'sickness.' The deaths in this estate… all of it could trace back to that single act and if that's the case," Seb continued, "then there is a strong chance the boy never left this place."
The Count's expression faltered.
"…What do you mean… he is here?"
Sebastian met his gaze directly.
"His remains," he said plainly. "If it was never removed, then it's somewhere on this estate. Hidden or simply forgotten or deliberately concealed by your wife, the specter..." Seb added, quieter now. "It could be him, or something born from what was done to him. Either way… finding him is the priority now."
Vesemir nodded once, then turned to the old lady.
"The scream you heard," he said, "You said it came from inside the house?"
The woman nodded quickly.
"Yes, master witcher. Inside. I remember it clear as day. It came from below… from the wine cellars. I never went down there again after that night."
The Count blinked, as if dragged back into the conversation.
"The cellars…?" he murmured.
He shook his head faintly.
"I go there… from time to time. Lately more often than I should," he admitted hollowly. "But there was nothing. Nothing out of place…"
Sebastian glanced at him briefly.
"Because you didn't look closely enough."
The Count flinched slightly at that.
Sebastian turned back to the old woman.
"Take us there."
She hesitated only a moment before nodding.
"Yes… yes, of course. This way."
They moved quickly through the estate, the remaining two servants kept their distance as the group passed, their eyes lingering nervously on the witchers, and on their master.
The descent to the cellar was narrow, stone steps worn smooth with age. The deeper they went, the air became cool, damper, carrying the rich scent of aged wine.
When they reached the bottom, the space opened.
The cellar was vast.
Rows upon rows of wooden barrels lined the walls, stacked with care, each marked and sealed. Bottles rested in carved racks along the stone, dust gathering thick over some, untouched for years. The scent was strong, oak, fermentation, time itself captured in liquid. And despite everything, the place was immaculate.
Vesemir gave a low whistle under his breath.
"Quite the collection."
The Count barely looked around.
"This used to matter to me," he said quietly. "Once."
His gaze drifted across the barrels without truly seeing them.
"…It doesn't anymore."
He gestured vaguely.
"As you can see… everything is in order."
Sebastian didn't respond immediately.
He was listening.
Then, after a moment, he tilted his head slightly.
"…Not quite."
The count glanced at him.
"What?"
Seb's eyes shifted toward one side of the cellar.
"I hear something."
The Count frowned.
"…You hear.. what?"
"Wind."
The Count shook his head.
"I hear nothing."
Vesemir stepped closer to Seb, pausing as he focused.
A moment later, his expression changed.
"…He's right," he said quietly. "Faint… but it's there."
Sebastian was already moving.
He walked toward the far wall of the cellar, where several large barrels were stacked tightly together. He stopped in front of them, listening again.
The sound was subtle. a whisper, air moving where it shouldn't.
He glanced back at the Count.
"…I'm sorry about the wine."
The Count barely had time to react.
Sebastian raised his hand.
Aard.
The force exploded outward.
Barrels shattered, wood splintering as they were thrown aside like toys. Wine burst across the stone floor in a dark flood, the scent intensifying instantly. The impact didn't stop there, the hidden weakness in the wall gave way under the blast.
Stone cracked then broke.
Dust filled the air as a section of the wall collapsed inward, revealing darkness beyond.
Vesemir stepped forward, peering into the newly exposed space.
"…Hidden room, of course." he muttered.
Then he glanced at the Count, one brow lifting slightly.
"I assume you didn't know about this either."
The Count stood frozen, one arm half-raised where he had instinctively shielded his face from the blast.
Slowly, he lowered it.
His eyes were fixed on the broken wall… on the darkness beyond it.
"…No. I did not.." he whispered.
The dust had barely settled when they stepped through the broken wall.
What lay beyond could not truly be called a room.
It stretched deeper than it should have, the stone giving way to rough, uneven rock, as though this place had been carved out long before the estate above it ever existed. The air changed the moment they crossed the threshold, it no longer smelled of wine, this was a foul smell.
The smell hit first, rot, old and clinging, buried deep into the stone itself. The kind of stench of slowly decaying corpses, forgotten in the dark.
Rats scattered at the intrusion of light, their tiny bodies slipping between cracks and bones alike.
And bones… there were many.
Sebastian stopped just inside, his jaw tightening as his eyes adjusted.
"…Fucking hell," he muttered under his breath. "Something seriously messed up happened here."
Vesemir said nothing at first. His gaze swept the cavern slowly, taking in every detail, the rusted iron fixtures bolted into the walls, the chains, the hooks… the unmistakable shapes of devices that had no purpose other than to inflict pain and suffering.
His eyes narrowed.
The Count stepped in last, for a moment, he didn't understand what he was looking at.
Then he did and whatever strength he had left simply gave out beneath him.
He dropped on all four, a broken breath escaping his lips.
"…Gods…"
Sebastian moved forward cautiously, stepping over scattered bones and debris. His eyes flicked from one skeleton to another, some larger, some smaller, some little more than fragments.
"…That's a lot of them, most be 'the caretakers' he hired." he said quietly.
Then he saw it, his steps slowed.
There, set apart from the others, was a smaller frame, laid out on what remained of a crude torture device. Iron restraints still held what was left of its limbs in place, long since eaten away by time. the skeleton was incomplete, fragile.
But enough remained, scraps of fabric, burned, darkened, barely holding together. A few strands of dark hair still clung to the skull.
Sebastian crouched beside it.
Vesemir didn't move closer. He didn't need to, this was more than enough.
He folded his arms, his expression hardening the moment he understood.
Sebastian leaned in slightly, examining what little remained with an angry look.
"…Small," he murmured. "Five years old… maybe a little younger."
His gaze shifted over the bones.
"Fractures everywhere, Broken ribs, broken skull too, he was beaten constantly before death."
He paused for a moment.
"…Tortured."
Behind him, the Count made a strangled sound.
"Stop…" he whispered. "Stop… please…"
Sebastian didn't continue.
The Count's composure shattered completely. He sank fully to the ground, his hands trembling as they pressed against the cold stone, as if he could anchor himself to something, anything that made sense.
But there was nothing as his voice broke.
"I can't… I can't believe this..."
His gaze fixed on the small, ruined remains.
"My son…" he whispered, the words barely forming. "My boy… suffered like this…"
His breath hitched violently.
"Under my own roof… in my own home…"
His hands clenched.
"…At the hands of my own wife…"
The words dissolved, fractured beyond coherence. Grief overtook him entirely, no anger left, no denial, just the crushing weight of a terrifying truth.
Sebastian stood slowly, his expression unreadable for a moment, then he spoke,
"Your wife committed something unforgivable."
The Count didn't respond, as he had no energy to talk.
Sebastian's gaze shifted across the cavern, the chains, the bones, the darkness itself.
"And what haunts her now… it feeds on that."
Vesemir nodded faintly.
"A parasite," he muttered. "Drawn to guilt... which is what surprises me the most, that your wife could feel something like 'guilt.'"
Sebastian continued.
"This… thing saw what she did. Or sensed it. And it latched onto her."
He glanced back at the small skeleton briefly.
"Your son isn't the specter," he added. "I doubt he even understood what was happening to him. I'm not sure if the child could even understand what hatred is, all he felt was just…" he paused, "…pain."
The Count was simply crying both hands over his head trying to make sense of everything.
Sebastian raised his hand and flame blossomed to life, steady and controlled, casting flickering light across the cavern.
Shadows shifted.
And then,
Both witchers saw it.
A shape on the far wall.
A distortion in the darkness, stretching unnaturally long.
Vesemir's eyes narrowed sharply.
Sebastian's gaze locked onto it.
"…There it is," he said quietly.
The flame in his hand flared slightly, pushing the darkness back just enough to reveal the thing more clearly, something attached to the very idea of guilt itself.
"The Hym."
/-\
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