Violet and Emely descended the stairs in silence, still buzzing with adrenaline. The grand main hall greeted them with its oppressive atmosphere: the portrait of the rampant lion that seemed to watch over them and the clock frozen at 3:27.
There was no sign of Simon.
Violet tried the communicator one more time.
"Simon, this is Violet. Do you copy? We're in the main hall."
Only static answered.
Emely leaned against the wall, clutching her bandaged hand.
"What now?" she asked quietly. "He's not responding. Neither is Falcon."
Violet put away the communicator and stared into the darkness of the hallway.
"We should stay here and wait for them. This hall is the meeting point we agreed on. It's the safest option."
Emely nodded, but her expression showed doubt.
"I know… it's the most logical choice. But after what we saw upstairs… that creature… we can't guarantee we're safe here. Or that Simon and Falcon are safe. And if there are any other survivors from the research team, every minute counts."
Violet ran a hand over her braid, thinking. She knew Emely was right. Staying put could mean condemning their teammates… or themselves.
"It's clear this place is far more dangerous than we thought," she said finally. "If there are more creatures like that one, or worse, we're not getting out of here unscathed."
Emely took a step forward, her voice low but urgent:
"Violet… listen to me. If we stay here together, we're just two people watching the same spot. But if we split up, we can cover more ground at the same time. You're better at tracking outdoors and I'm faster at clearing closed rooms. Plus…" she glanced down briefly at her bandaged hand, "if something attacks us here, it'll catch both of us at once and we won't have a way out. If we're separated, at least one of us can go for help or cover the other. It's the only way not to waste time… and not to lose Simon and Falcon."
Violet remained silent, staring into the darkness of the hallway. She knew Emely was right. Staying together made them an easy, slow target.
Emely spoke softly:
"Agreed?"
Violet let out a deep sigh, clearly reluctant, but she accepted.
"Fine… but only the ground floor and the adjacent rooms for you. Don't go upstairs alone. I'll head out to the courtyard and the back garden."
Emely stood still in the center of the main hall, watching as Violet headed toward one of the side windows. The young woman wrapped her elbow with a piece of her coat, took a swing, and smashed the glass with force.
CRASH!
The panes exploded into a shower of sharp fragments. Violet brushed aside the remains with her forearm and slipped nimbly through the opening, disappearing into the dark night of the back garden.
Emely was left alone in the hall.
She ran her good hand over her face, trying to calm herself.
"Okay…" she whispered to herself. "You've got this. Just check the hall and the rooms next door. Don't go upstairs. Don't do anything stupid."
She took a deep breath and began to move. First she checked behind the furniture covered with dusty sheets, then she approached the fireplace and ran her fingers over the eight carved marks on the mantelpiece. Her mind kept replaying the image of the creature from the upper floor: that bloody smile, those yellow eyes…
Suddenly, a soft noise came from one of the side rooms.
clic…
Emely tensed, revolver in hand.
"Hello…?" she called quietly.
No one answered.
She took a step toward the half-open door of the adjacent room, her heart pounding.
Meanwhile, outside the mansion, Violet advanced with her revolver ready and her senses on high alert. The night was cold, and the wind moved the branches as if the mansion itself were breathing.
Violet began exploring the surroundings of the great mansion, first circling the entire front area. The garden, which must once have been magnificent, was now a controlled chaos of wild nature. Abundant white and violet flowers swayed in the wind, their petals glowing faintly under the moonlight. Some climbing vines had scaled the stone walls, covering them almost completely, as if the mansion were slowly being devoured by the vegetation.
Violet walked with firm but cautious steps, her boots sinking into the damp grass.
"What a beautiful place… and so fucking sinister at the same time," she muttered to herself, never lowering her revolver. "Who would've thought something so pretty could hide so much rot."
She stopped for a moment and looked up at the mansion. From the outside, its size was even more impressive. Three stories of imposing Victorian architecture, with turrets on the corners, tall narrow windows, and a partially collapsed gabled roof. The stone gargoyles adorning the eaves seemed to watch her from above, their faces eroded by time and rain.
Violet frowned, studying every detail.
"Who the hell built this?" she wondered quietly. "And more importantly… who really owned this house? No one builds something like this in the middle of nowhere without a very specific reason."
She continued toward the side, circling the mansion. The wind blew stronger, making the flowers and leaves whisper around her. Every now and then she stopped, listening carefully for any sound that didn't belong to the wind.
Suddenly, as she reached the back area, something caught her attention among the thick undergrowth and the black ivy covering the ground. An old, rusted iron trapdoor, almost completely hidden beneath a layer of vegetation.
Violet approached cautiously, brushing aside the branches with her free hand. The trapdoor was slightly ajar, as if someone had left it that way recently.
"Wow…" she whispered, crouching to examine it better. "So this is how you get down."
She looked back at the mansion once more, then at the trapdoor. Her mind worked quickly: if any of their companions—Simon, Falcon, or the remaining members of the research team—were in danger, it was very possible they had gone down there.
Violet pressed her lips together, made a decision, and began to lift the trapdoor carefully. The metal creaked softly.
CREEEAK…
The darkness of the basement greeted her like an open mouth.
"Here I go," she murmured with determination.
And she began to descend.
Violet lifted the trapdoor fully and slipped down carefully, using the edges to control her descent. The moment her boots touched the basement floor, a terrible smell hit her like an invisible wall.
It was a nauseating mix of rancid dampness, mold, rotten earth, and old blood. The stench was so thick it clung to the back of her throat.
"God… that's disgusting," she muttered, wrinkling her nose.
She reached for her belt and activated the small flashlight integrated into the grip of her revolver. A cold white beam cut through the darkness, revealing a large and gloomy basement. The stone walls were covered in black moss and damp stains that seemed to bleed downward. Rusty chains hung from the ceiling like old bones, and rotten wooden crates were stacked haphazardly in the corners.
Violet advanced with her revolver raised, the beam of light sweeping slowly from left to right.
clic… clic… The sound of her boots on the damp stone echoed loudly in the silence.
Suddenly, the beam illuminated something on the floor.
A body.
Violet stopped dead. It was the creature Falcon had faced: the monster with the destroyed face and a knife still deeply embedded in its side. Dark blood had spread in an irregular pool around the corpse. Its head was twisted at an impossible angle, and its yellow eyes remained open, staring at nothing.
Violet approached cautiously, her heart pounding.
"So there are more of these things down here too…" she whispered.
She crouched a little to observe it better. The bullet wound in the head was clear and deep. The knife in its side looked like it had been driven in with great force.
"Who did this to you?" she murmured, more to herself than expecting an answer.
The oppressive silence was her only reply.
Violet stood up and continued forward, the beam of light trembling slightly in her hand. The passageway narrowed ahead, and the smell of rot grew even stronger.
ploc… ploc… ploc…
The sound of water dripping somewhere made her skin crawl.
Suddenly, she heard a faint metallic noise in the distance.
clank…
Violet froze, aiming her revolver into the darkness.
"Simon?" she called softly but clearly. "Falcon? It's Violet. Are you there?"
Only the echo of her own voice answered.
She took another step forward, her finger tense on the trigger.
"Come on… don't do this to me. If you're hurt, say something."
The beam continued sweeping the hallway. More iron cells appeared on both sides. Some were empty. In others, motionless silhouettes could be seen on the floor.
Violet swallowed hard.
"It can't be… how many more are down here?"
She kept advancing, growing more tense with every step. The smell of fresh blood now mixed with the rot, creating a combination that turned her stomach.
Violet moved through the basement hallway, the beam from her revolver cutting the darkness like a cold knife. The smell of rot and old blood grew increasingly intense.
Suddenly, the beam illuminated something on the floor.
Falcon's blunderbuss lay abandoned on the damp stone.
Violet felt a knot in her throat.
"Falcon…" she whispered.
She moved quickly, holstering her revolver and crouching to pick up the weapon. Her fingers were just brushing the stock when, right beside one of the cells, she heard a low, broken murmur.
ssssshhh… hhnnn…
Violet froze, still crouched, her hand on the blunderbuss. Slowly, she turned her head toward the cell.
Inside was a man.
He had an athletic build and medium-tall stature. His platinum-blond hair, medium length, fell in soft, tousled layers over his forehead and the sides of his face. His narrow, penetrating eyes were an intense golden-amber color that gleamed with a cold, calculating light even in the gloom. He wore a neat, light goatee that accentuated his sharp, defined jawline.
He was dressed in a long white coat, open and slightly worn at the lower edges, that fell almost to his ankles. Underneath he wore a dark green military jacket on the sleeves and shoulders, combined with a dark gray turtleneck sweater. Orange-lensed protective goggles hung from his neck, and at his waist he carried a black tactical belt with a holster visible. His outfit was completed with olive-green military-style pants and black lace-up shoes.
The man was leaning against the cell wall, one leg bent and his arm resting on his knee.
Violet gripped the blunderbuss tighter, still crouched.
"Who are you?" she asked, her voice low but firm. "Are you hurt?"
The man slowly raised his head. His golden-amber eyes locked onto her. There was fear in his gaze, but also a tense calm, as if he were struggling not to break down.
"Help me… please…" he said in a hoarse voice.
He said nothing more. He simply stared at her, breathing with difficulty.
Violet looked away from him and let her gaze wander inside the cell. Her eyes first stopped on the rusty bed, where a girl lay motionless on her back with an unsettling stillness. Then they fixed on the chair beside it.
Seated there, head slumped forward and apparently unconscious, was Falcon.
Violet felt a sharp jolt in her chest.
"Falcon!" she exclaimed, standing up abruptly and gripping the weapon with both hands.
At that moment, the man on the floor stood up with difficulty. His long white coat opened slightly as he moved, revealing on his back the silver-embroidered rampant lion and, beneath it, the letters L.I.O.N.
Violet realized instantly.
"You're from the research team…"
The man approached the bars. His voice came out hoarse and trembling:
"Help me… please… get us out of here… I don't know how much longer we can hold on…"
Violet looked at him carefully, never lowering the weapon even a millimeter.
"How do I open these cells?" she asked directly.
The man swallowed hard. His hand trembled visibly as he gripped the bars.
"To open the cells you have to find the switch… it's somewhere in the basement, but I don't know exactly where… it could be anywhere."
Violet processed the information quickly.
"And the girl?" she asked, nodding toward the bed. "Who is she?"
The man lowered his gaze. The hand holding the bars shook even more. When he spoke, his voice truly broke, heavy with guilt and pain:
"She's my teammate… Alice Valentine. We were investigating the basement when… everything turned into a nightmare. We found one of our own companions injured. At first we thought he was just badly hurt… but he was acting very strange. He wasn't saying anything. His eyes… his eyes were no longer normal. Suddenly he attacked us like an animal. He bit Alice on the arm… so hard he tore out a piece. She was screaming… she screamed so much… We had to… we had to kill him. There was no other choice."
Violet clenched her jaw.
"How did you end up locked in here?"
Victor Bonnet took a deep breath, his voice still shaky.
"After we finished off our companion… a man appeared out of nowhere. He locked us in here. We tried to escape, but it was impossible. The cells closed by themselves."
Violet frowned.
"And Falcon?"
"He found us some time later. He was talking to us when… suddenly the same individual appeared and knocked him out. He put him in here with us."
Violet glanced at the unconscious Falcon for a second, then turned back to the man.
"One last thing… why is your coat white and not black like the others?"
The man gave a tired, broken smile.
"Because I'm the team's doctor. White is so I can be easily identified in a medical emergency."
Violet nodded once.
"Alright, stay here, Victor. I'm going to find that panel. Don't move."
The man let out a bitter, broken laugh.
"Good luck with that… it's not like I can go anywhere."
Violet didn't reply. She turned around and began moving down the dark hallway, the beam from her revolver cutting through the blackness.
The distant dripping of water continued.
ploc… ploc… ploc…