But there’s already a monster hunting me in that direction.
Swallowing, I follow the tug.
It’s easy enough to recognize the cell doors, and I shudder at the memory of getting far too acquaintedwith them. I pass by countless cells without feeling a thing.
Still, I’m not dissuaded. I start opening doors.
Disappointingly, the first two are empty stone rooms. The next is filled with objects covered in old white sheets, and the idea of walking around in there has me shutting the door and moving on.
No thanks.
I have every confidence that if I go poking around in that room, one of those sheets will move.
It doesn’t matter how many years I’ve spent hunting broken souls. Jump scares are still off limits.
I’m relieved when something tugs on my hand again, pulling me further into the hall. This time, the accompanying whispered static is louder.
The sound tickles something in the back of my mind. I’ve heard this before.
Recognition hits me like a ton of bricks.
Ghosts.
It’s the sound that ghosts make when they speak.
Could this be where Need is hiding the spirits? That’s not what I was hoping to find down here, but still, there’s no turning back now. I still have hours to go before darkness falls.
The tugging on my hand grows more insistent, and I follow it to a smaller, inconspicuous-looking door. It isn’t locked.
The static grows louder and more excited when I touch the latch. This is the place.
Opening the door, I find yet another staircase. This one is even narrower and spirals down further than my light can reach. Instantly, my body locks up.
Absolutely not. Zero stars. I’ll take the room with the jump scares instead.
The tugging comes again, followed by the thud of a door slamming open, somewhere in the distance.
My blood turns to ice.
Leon’s voice echoes through the gloom, “Little mouse, little mouse, come out, come out wherever you are.”
Cassandra’s memory kicks in, her urgency pushing my legs to move.‘Get on the stairs! Shut the door, but keep the handle turned so it doesn’t make a sound. Go, faster! Two at a time! Move it!’
It turns out that spending countless hours obeying the disembodied orders of your past life has far-reaching benefits.
Do I want to go down the stairs?
No.
But my body jumps into action, following Cassandra’s orders.
I sprint down the steps, my feet almost bouncing as they hit the stone to minimize the sound. The whispers grow louder the further down I go. I don’t slow my pace, worried my fear paralysis will kick in if I do.
The steps end abruptly, but I don’t have time to slow my momentum. I barrel into another closed door and drop the orb.
My stomach plummets, and I barely catch it before it shatters.
The whispered static is reverberating now, bouncing around the small space. The volume has reached a crescendo, loud enough to mask the sound of my breathing.
