Chapter Four: The Basement Door
When Lian opened her eyes, she was on the floor.
The candle had gone out, and the air was cold enough to make her bones tremble.
She tried to stand, but felt something beneath her hand…
It was the notebook—open to a new page that hadn't been there before.
On the page, written in dark, hurried strokes, were the words:
> "If you hear the footsteps again, do not open the basement door."
Before she could even process the warning, the sound of a lock turning echoed through the house.
She looked toward the bottom of the stairs—toward the dark cellar.
The basement door… was opening by itself.
The creak of its hinges tore through the silence, followed by a cold draft rising from below, as if the earth itself exhaled.
Lian stepped closer, holding the notebook like a weapon.
The darkness below was thick, but deep inside… a faint light pulsed, slow and steady, like a heartbeat.
> "Lian…"
The voice called her again—this time, sorrowful.
"You locked me down here yourself."
She descended the first step, then the second…
With every step, the walls seemed to close in, the air growing heavier.
At the bottom, she reached an old wooden door, half open, leading into a small room.
Inside, there was a mirror covered with a black cloth.
On the table before it lay another notebook—an exact copy of the one in her hands.
But this one's cover read:
> "Lian Omar Al-Sabbah — Journals Before the Beginning."
She reached out to pull the cloth away from the mirror…
But before her hand touched it, the cloth fell on its own.
In the mirror, she saw herself—yet it wasn't her.
The face was slightly tilted, the eyes deeper, and the smile… wicked.
Then, a whisper came from within the glass:
> "Now you remember… who the real one is?"