Chapter 10

The whispers grew louder with every step Athasia took. The subterranean chamber stretched far beyond what her eyes could comprehend, the faint glow of the symbols on the walls barely illuminating the oppressive darkness around her. Her boots clicked against the cold stone floor, the sound echoing eerily in the silence.

As she ventured further, the air became heavier, carrying the metallic scent of blood mixed with the acrid stench of decay. Her sharp green eyes scanned her surroundings, every muscle in her body taut with alertness.

Her steps faltered when her foot hit something that made a hollow clattering sound. She looked down, her breath hitching. A skeleton lay at her feet, its bony fingers outstretched as if reaching for salvation it could never attain. The remains were old, the bones brittle and covered in a thin layer of dust.

But it wasn't just one skeleton. As Athasia's eyes adjusted to the dim light, she noticed more—countless skeletons scattered across the ground. Some lay in heaps, their bones broken and twisted, while others appeared unnervingly intact, as if they had simply collapsed where they stood.

She pressed forward, her expression unreadable, though her chest tightened with unease. Bloodstains, dark and dried, marred the walls and floor. The further she walked, the fresher the stains became, as if whatever horror had unfolded here was still recent.

Her boot slipped slightly on something wet, and she grimaced as she realized it was a pool of congealed blood. Beside it lay what could only be described as remnants—organs and other unidentifiable pieces of flesh scattered like discarded refuse. The sight was enough to churn the stomach of even the most hardened individual, but Athasia pressed on, her resolve unshaken.

"This place…" she muttered under her breath, her voice barely above a whisper. "What kind of hell is this?"

The whispers that had accompanied her since she entered the chamber seemed to change in tone, growing more insistent, almost urging her forward. Despite the grotesque sights around her, there was an undeniable pull—a force that compelled her to keep moving.

And then, through the haze of darkness and death, she saw it.

A mansion.

It loomed before her, an impossible structure in the heart of this abyss. The building was massive, its architecture grand yet foreboding. Twisted iron gates stood wide open, as if welcoming her, and the mansion itself was a masterpiece of gothic design. Tall spires reached into the darkness above, and intricately carved stone gargoyles adorned its edges, their grotesque faces frozen in silent screams.

The walls were blackened, as if scorched by fire, and ivy crept along its surface like veins on a dying