The Cursed Sonata

The old clock struck midnight, its chime echoing through Blackthorn Manor like a dying heartbeat. Aarav and Maya moved silently up the west wing staircase, their candlelight flickering against the cracked walls. Every step made the floor groan, as if the house disapproved of their presence.

The air felt heavier here — not just with dust, but with something unseen, like the shadow of a memory that refused to die.

Maya's voice cut through the silence, low and steady.

"The second mirror is in the music room. I think it belonged to Lucien Blackthorn."

Aarav shot her a glance.

"Ambrose's son?"

She nodded. "Yes. He was brilliant, but… he drowned in his own mind. Music and madness became one for him."

The door to the music room groaned open as if resisting their intrusion.

Aarav froze on the threshold.

Once, the room must have been exquisite — polished wood floors, red velvet curtains, gold filigree on the walls. But time had eaten its beauty. The ceiling sagged, and mold clawed at the corners. Sheet music lay scattered across the ground, the notes fading like forgotten words.

At the center stood a grand piano, black as obsidian, its lid cracked. Behind it, leaning against the wall, was the mirror — tall, its silver surface faintly rippling, as if it were a pool of liquid mercury.

Maya's voice dropped to a whisper.

"That's it. The second mirror."

Aarav stepped forward.

CREAK.

The instant his foot hit the floorboards, the piano keys slammed down on their own.

Three notes.

Then silence.

Then — a scream.

A freezing gust swept through the room, slamming the door shut behind them. The candle went out with a hiss. Pale moonlight spilled through a shattered window, bathing the piano in silver light.

And that's when Aarav saw him.

Lucien Blackthorn.

He sat hunched over the piano, his hands resting on the keys. His back was to them, but the way his shoulders jerked unnaturally — as if something inside him was broken — sent a chill through Aarav's bones.

Then Lucien turned.

Half of his face looked like melting wax, sagging and deformed. The other half was pale and sharp, his lips crudely sewn together with black thread. His eyes, though, burned with a kind of frenzied sorrow.

Maya gasped.

"The Whisper Curse… They stitched his mouth shut to silence the voices. He must have been hearing them even after death."

Lucien rose from the piano without moving his feet. He hovered an inch above the ground, gliding toward them. In one hand, he clutched a rusted violin bow, dragging it across the piano keys, producing a sound that wasn't music — just a distorted, wailing noise.

Maya's voice trembled.

"Don't let him touch you. If he does, you'll never hear the living again — only the dead"

The spirit lunged.

Aarav stumbled backward, narrowly avoiding the touch of Lucien's hand. A deafening screech erupted from the mirror behind the piano, its surface vibrating violently. The sound wasn't heard with ears — it was felt, crawling inside their skulls. Aarav's nose began to bleed.

"Maya, do something!" he shouted.

Maya had already dropped to her knees, chalk in hand, sketching a glowing sigil onto the floor.

"Keep him back! I just need thirty seconds!"

Aarav grabbed a heavy brass candle stand and swung it through Lucien's form — but the weapon passed through harmlessly, only stirring the cold air.

Lucien glided closer, tilting his head unnaturally, as though listening to something no one else could hear. His stitched mouth trembled as if he were trying to scream.

Aarav's mind raced. Something told him to speak. He blurted out the first name that came to him:

"Eleanor!"

Lucien froze mid-air. His head jerked to one side so violently it looked like his neck might snap.

"You knew her, didn't you?" Aarav shouted, grasping for anything. "She betrayed you!"

Lucien's entire form convulsed. A sound, like the strings of a violin snapping, tore through the room. Then, with a burst of speed, he lunged for Aarav.

The ward flared to life.

A shockwave burst outward, knocking Aarav back. Lucien let out a final note — not a scream, but a violin chord so piercingly beautiful and mournful that tears welled in Aarav's eyes.

The mirror's surface flared white — then Lucien was gone.

On the mirror, glowing letters slowly formed:

"Lucien Blackthorn – The Silent One."

Aarav stood shakily, wiping the blood from his face.

"Two mirrors, two souls freed. What happens if we… fail?"

Maya stared at the name for a long time before answering.

"Then every soul in these mirrors will awaken — not as people, but as Wailers. And they'll come for us first."

Maya touched the surface of the mirror, her hand trembling.

"Two down. Five more to go."

But something else burned in her expression now — urgency, and a kind of fear Aarav hadn't seen before.

She turned to him.

"Aarav… we need to talk. If you really are part of Ambrose's bloodline, this ritual doesn't just need your blood… it needs your consent."

Aarav's heart thudded.

"Consent? What does that mean? I'm not giving them anything."

The mirror behind him cracked slightly, a thin line splintering through the silver surface as if warning them both.

Maya's voice lowered.

"It means you're not just the key to breaking this curse… you might also be the one who can complete it."