Lord of the Manor

After several hours of going through random doors, Lorelei and I stop and take a moment to rest inside a study. There is a fireplace on one wall, a desk flanked by windows and bookshelves on another, a pair of couches in a corner, and two doors. There is a painting above the fireplace of a man and woman together. I sit on the edge of the desk as Lorelei plops down on the couch with her feet up, and sighs. 

“Let me ask you another question,” she says. “Why did my arm hurt when that big guy showed up?” 

“The black marks on your arm are curse marks. The wraiths cause them. Curses can have all kinds of effects – this curse paralyzes victims through pain whenever the ghost is nearby. I think this spirit is probably trying to absorb the life energy of people who become trapped in here, so the curse is designed to make victims unable to run or flee so he can drain them. It’s probably why the wraiths haven’t tried to kill us.” 

She sits up and studies my expression for a moment. It’s dark in the room, with only a dim fire from the fireplace illuminating us. The shadows dance across the walls, and the flame reflects in her eyes. “What does the ghost get out of this?” 

I gesture around the room. “This. The magical power to do this. He’s probably been at this for a very long time if he’s gotten this powerful. If he absorbs the latent magic left in me by Yukiko, he’ll likely become … a dragon.” 

“Like a fire-breathing lizard?” Lorelei asks, standing up. 

“Sort of, this is more like the origin of the myth. You see, life and death do not mix well. A ghost is a powerful emotion left behind by someone who has died, and when they absorb a lot of life energy, they react,” I explain. I can remember studying dragons with Yukiko many years ago, but I never thought I’d encounter one. It’s all I can do to relay what I remember reading with her. “The energy gives them power, but it mutates them as well, turning them into a feral, destructive monster that is fueled by anger and hatred. That is a dragon.” 

“What do you think he’d do if he became a dragon then?” She asks. 

I look over my shoulder out the window. It must be about dawn by now, but storm clouds are covering the area and it’s still dark. Time is still warped inside the manor as well. “There are people out there who handle things like this. A creature that powerful would undoubtedly attract the attention of the Witch of the Sun. I’m sure she would find it quite ironic if I died here. But I imagine the ghost will have plenty of time to destroy the town before that happens.”

“We can’t let that happen!” She shouts. “How do we stop it?” 

“I have the spells to exorcise it, but I’d need to understand what caused him to exist in the first place, and then I’d have to destroy that mutated form that has developed around it. But he’s very powerful, I might not be able to beat him on my own. And if I get close, the curse will kick in too. Plus, I doubt he’d allow us to reach him so easily. I imagine the warped manor is designed to prevent us from reaching him.” 

Lorelei walks over to the fireplace and inspects the painting. “Hey, this painting is a little strange. Do you recall seeing any other paintings of people on the walls here?” 

I shrug. “Not really, why do you ask?” 

She points to the painting. “So what makes these people so special? You know, I’ve been thinking this whole place feels like an Ikea showroom – it’s nice and all, but there’s nothing personal in this whole manor, except this.” 

“Come to think of it, yeah,” I reply. Taking another look at the painting, the man is wearing a lordly early-19th-century suit, and the woman has a simple gown and chocolate-brown eyes. He has his hand on her bare shoulder, and they look very much in love. His calming blue eyes seem to follow me as I move from the desk and come closer. 

“Well, it’s a clue anyway,” she says. 

“Let’s keep exploring,” I tell her. We open the door and enter the infinite hallway once again. 

I try to focus my senses so I can guide us through the maze, but I can’t pinpoint anything. The magical presence of the ghost is all around us; it is oppressive and suffocating, and it completely overwhelms my senses. I can’t tell where he is anymore, but I can feel him moving. 

Lorelei picks another door at random, and it leads us into the dining room. She covers her mouth as she steps inside. The room appears frozen in time, with places set and food on the table, and around the table are skeletons – some lie slumped in their chairs, others are collapsed against the ground. 

“What is this?” Lorelei asks, cautiously walking around the table. 

I open my grimoire to a particular page with an earthy design in the center, and I hold my hand out over one of the cups, still half-full of wine. 

“Poison. The ghost was probably created by one of these people,” I remark. “I wouldn’t touch anything if I were you, the room is preserved by magic, so the poison is probably still as potent today as it was 150 years ago.” 

As I pull my hand away, the skeleton springs to life and clamps down around my wrist. Lorelei shrieks, and I try to pull away, but the grip is like a vice. 

“One should not disturb a corpse so casually,” a raspy voice echoes from within the skull of the skeleton. 

Another skeleton starts to rise to its feet. “We see your pain laid bare.”

“Abandoned by your family,” A third skeleton says. 

A fourth stands on a twisted ankle bone. “Tormented by guilt.” 

“For the lives you took.” “For the girl you left behind.” “Swallowed by grief for the love you lost.”

The skeleton holding my wrist climbs from his chair. “Allow us to liberate your wilting spirit.” 

All ten of the skeletons let out a banshee scream that sends a searing pain through my head so intense that I almost lose focus. I release a shockwave of cold wind from my sigil hand, blasting all of the skeletons back and freeing my wrist, but they all recover easily. 

Lorelei runs behind my back. 

“No wind is as cold as the embrace of death,” the skeletons taunt. “No night as dark as our eternal slumber. The magic of the moon is powerless here.” 

“Thanks for the tip!” I bellow, and as two skeletons lunge, I repel them with a wave of fire from one of the spells in my grimoire. 

I bring out my ice claws and flip the table, charging at the skeletons. These mere undead puppets will not beat me. I still have my pride, after all. 

I slash through them with my claws. They punch and kick and scratch and bite, savagely throwing themselves at me, but despite their supernatural strength, I can handle them. 

But every time I smash one of the skeletons, they reassemble themselves moments later and rejoin the fray. They are fragile but determined to bring me down. I need to figure out how to permanently finish them off. 

Just at that moment, Lorelei screams, “Look out!” and as I turn on my heels, the ringleader of the skeletons sinks a knife into my gut, just below my ribs. 

I howl and shatter their bony hand, then I kick them back. The knife slips out and drops to the floor, and my blood flows freely from my body. The skeletons all begin picking up knives from the scattered dinnerware. 

“We have no life to take,” “No blood to lose,” “No heart to pierce,” “No pain to feel.” “We are death,” “And we cannot be stopped.” 

The bones I shattered in the ringleader’s hand haven’t reassembled. A grin crosses my lips. “I can still break you.” 

As several skeletons lunge with knives, I clamp my claws around the skull of the ringleader and squeeze until the bone shatters. With the skull destroyed, the rest of the skeleton collapses, the magic holding it together gone. 

I avoid the incoming knives and target the skulls. My bicep is slashed, but I crush two more. I get stabbed in my thigh, but I crush another three. As I smash the next skull, one of the skeletons jumps on my back and begins stabbing me repeatedly. I slam my back against the wall and reach up, pulling its skull free and slamming it on the ground. I stomp it into pieces and charge at the two remaining skeletons to destroy them too. 

Blood drips from my wounds, and I start to feel weak. As I start to falter, Lorelei rushes over and throws my arm around her shoulder, acting as my crutch. 

“Hang in there!” She squeals. 

She helps me to lean against the wall, and she begins to take a look at all my cuts. 

“I don’t know what to do,” She says in a panicky voice. “I’m not a doctor! I don’t even know the first thing about first aid.” 

With magic, I make the grimoire flip to the healing spell, which I invoke to close the cuts and stop the bleeding. I groan and slide down the wall to the floor, my breathing weak and shallow. 

“That spell should make sure I don’t bleed to death at least,” I mutter as Lorelei crouches in front of me. 

“Are you going to be okay?” She says, tears welling in her eyes. 

I nod slowly. “I just need a minute to catch my breath. I promise you, I’m too proud to let something like this finish me off.”

“Is there something I could do to help you?” She asks. “Is there a spell or something?” 

“I don’t have the time to teach you,” I reply. “It’s going to be fine, okay?” 

“Okay,” She says, wiping her face. 

After a moment, I start to drag myself up using the wall. Lorelei tries to help me, and finally I am back on my feet. 

She walks over to the door and opens it, stepping through the threshold and holding it open for me. But as I limp toward the doorway, it suddenly slams shut with her on the other side. 

“Lorelei?” I call, rushing to the door. I throw it open and find myself back in the hallway, but she’s not there anymore. “Lorelei!” 

No answer. The door slams shut behind me, and when I try to go back the way I came, it just leads to a different room. 

She’s gone.