Story1001: Whispers from the Mausoleum (Series HS:ZE11)

The mausoleum stood where the dead forest kissed the broken earth—twisted trees arched over its crumbling stone like mourners frozen in time. Vines choked the iron gates, and something foul lingered in the fog like an exhale from the grave.

Solomon Wraith, his coat heavy with occult glyphs and ash, approached the structure, lantern dimly lit with blue ghostflame. The whispers had called to him again—same voices, same promise. A cure for the rot, hidden in the catacombs beneath. A lie, perhaps. But one too sweet to ignore.

Behind him, Talia Grimm trudged silently, her sketchbook hugged to her chest. She stopped suddenly, eyes locked on the mausoleum doors. She dropped to her knees and frantically scribbled. Solomon leaned over her shoulder and saw a crude drawing: a skeletal priest with a hollow face holding a lantern identical to his.

A warning.

He pushed the doors anyway.