The stairs spiraled downward without mercy—one tight curve after another—each step groaning beneath their weight like old bones protesting a disturbance long overdue.
Crrreeeak… crrrk…
Above them, the gas lamps died one by one.
Not exploded.
Not blown out.
They chose to go dark.
By the time Zhang realized it, the last flicker vanished behind them, swallowed whole. The building wanted no witnesses.
Now there was only the faint glow of Merlina's ward-stone—an anemic blue pulse cradled in her palm, beating softly like a nervous heart. It barely pushed back the darkness, only carving out a fragile bubble of light as they descended.
Thrum… thrum… thrum…
The pipes sang.
Merlina walked close behind him, boots nearly brushing his heels. Her breath came fast, shallow, misting the cold air.
"Leo…" Her voice trembled. "Are you sure about this? The pipes are louder than in my dream."
Zhang glanced back, forcing a half-smile he hoped read confident instead of terrified improvisation.
"Sure? No," he said. "But staying upstairs felt like waiting for the plot to knock again. Literally."
And if Mom's calling from down here, he thought grimly, maybe she'll finally stop with cryptic notes and give us a proper lore dump.
His hand throbbed.
Earlier—during their frantic preparation—he'd nicked it on a jagged pipe edge. Nothing serious. Still, blood had smeared across the rabbit pin on his chest.
Now the pain pulsed warmly.
Too warmly.
Like a second heartbeat.
The air grew colder. Damp. Each breath tasted metallic. The hum from the pipes deepened, vibrations crawling through the walls until patterns emerged—almost words, if you listened the wrong way.
They reached the basement landing.
A heavy iron door stood ajar.
Rusted chains dangled from it like dead vines.
Clink… clack…
Beyond lay a labyrinth of pipes—thick iron veins twisting overhead, dripping condensation that struck the stone floor in rhythmic echoes.
Plip… plop… plip…
Faint red light seeped from cracks in the stone beneath their feet.
Embers under ash.
Merlina shivered. "This is it. The old pump room's through there." She pointed left—toward a narrow corridor where tree roots punched through the ceiling like skeletal fingers grasping downward.
Zhang nodded. "Lead the way, dream expert. I'll handle the comic relief."
She managed a weak laugh, though her grip tightened on the ward-stone until her knuckles went white.
They moved carefully.
Water pooled in shallow depressions, reflecting the red flickers in warped, unnatural patterns. Zhang's shoes—Leonard's polished leather—squished softly with each step.
Great, he thought. Ruining the funeral suit one cursed basement at a time.
Then—
"Merlina…"
The whisper slid through the pipes ahead, smooth and intimate.
She froze. "Did you hear that?"
Zhang's skin prickled.
The voice was their mother's.
Soft. Loving. Perfectly captured—just like in Merlina's sketches.
And utterly wrong.
Too hollow. Too empty.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "Ignore it. Fake news from the veil."
He forced a breath. "If Mom's really calling, she'll use your full name and nag about cleaning your room."
Merlina exhaled shakily. "You're awful."
"Effective, though."
He scooped up a loose stone, weighing it in his hand. "Come on. Eyes forward."
The whisper returned—closer now.
"Children… come closer…"
Shadow seeped from a side pipe.
Not smoke—something worse.
Wispy black tendrils crawled outward, coalescing into vague shapes that reached, yearning.
"H—!" Merlina whimpered.
Zhang didn't hesitate.
He hurled the stone down the corridor.
CRASH—SPLASH!
The echo ricocheted wildly through the chamber. The tendrils shuddered, splitting toward the sound like confused serpents.
"Run!" he hissed.
They bolted.
Merlina's ward-stone flared bright blue, light screaming against the dark. The tendrils recoiled with a hiss, retreating from the glow.
Score one for distraction tactics, Zhang thought as his lungs burned.
No powers needed. Just basic misdirection.
Take that, god-mode protagonists.
They burst into the pump room.
A circular chamber opened before them, dominated by an ancient iron pump—its valves crusted with rust and age. In the center stood a stone door sealed with faded runes.
He recognized the handwriting instantly.
Mother's.
Merlina dropped to her knees, tracing the symbols with trembling fingers. "It's warded. But… weak. The tear's breaking it."
Zhang studied the runes. Leonard's memories stirred—logic puzzles, sequence locks, arcane mechanics that favored intelligence over brute force.
"No brute magic," he murmured. "Good."
He crouched. "See the pattern? Outer ring rotates to match the inner."
He smirked faintly. "Like a combination lock. But pretentious."
Click.
Shift.
Align.
The stones responded with reluctant obedience.
Merlina stared. "How do you—"
"Read Mom's notes more than you think."
And played way too many puzzle games in another life.
The door groaned open.
Inside: a small altar chamber.
A dried blood circle stained the floor. Papers lay scattered. A broken staff fragment rested against the wall.
And at the center—
A pedestal.
Upon it sat a cracked red crystal, pulsing faintly like a dying heart.
Merlina gasped. "Her orb shard… she used it to seal—"
Zhang approached slowly.
A letter lay atop the pedestal, sealed with wax.
To my children—or whoever wears their faces.
His stomach twisted.
Subtle, Mom. Real subtle.
He pocketed the letter and the shard.
The chamber shuddered.
Red light flooded the fissures, blazing brighter. Pipes burst around them—
BOOM—HISSSSS!
Liquid sprayed outward—not water, but something thick and whispering. Voices overlapped within it: names, dates, half-lives that weren't theirs.
"The tear's widening!" Merlina cried.
Tendrils surged back in—thicker, angrier.
One lashed toward her.
Zhang shoved her aside.
The strike caught his arm.
Pain exploded—burning cold, bone-deep.
"Leo!"
"I'm fine—go!"
He seized a pipe wrench from the debris and swung.
CLANG!
The tendrils recoiled from the metal.
Physics for the win. Again.
Above them, a main pipe groaned—pressure screaming for release.
Zhang's mind raced. "That burst—aim it!"
He wedged the wrench into a valve and twisted with everything he had. Merlina added her weight.
SNAP—BOOOOM!
The pipe detonated, blasting the tendrils backward in a violent spray.
They ran.
Red light chased them. His arm throbbed, blood dripping onto the rabbit pin.
It flared—crimson ribbons briefly shielding them before sputtering out.
Just a teaser trailer, Zhang thought bitterly. For power I'll never control.
They slammed the apartment door shut, barricading it as dawn's gray light filtered weakly through the cracks.
Merlina cleaned his wounds with trembling hands. "You saved me. Again."
She swallowed. "You're… the best brother."
The words hit harder than the tendrils ever could.
Zhang ruffled her hair. "Don't get sappy. Someone has to stop you from dying dramatically."
She smiled through tears and curled beside him.
Exhaustion claimed him.
The basement dissolved.
Stars wheeled overhead—cold, endless.
Black water mirrored the sky at his feet, rippling infinity. Twisted trees clawed upward, roots inverted, grasping at nothing.
A silhouette emerged.
Tall. Robed in star-speckled black. Silver chains draped her form. A veiled headpiece hid her face.
In her hand—
a pulsing red orb, bright as a blood moon.
She approached, staff dragging soundlessly. Blue moonlight bled from her aura.
Zhang's breath caught.
"Let me guess," he muttered. "Family reunion? Because the timing's awful."
A faint smile curved beneath the veil.
She leaned close, frost brushing his ear.
"I know the name you hide, outsider," she whispered. "And the price of wearing my son's skin."
The orb pulsed with his rabbit pin.
"Fix the tear," she murmured. "Or become the echo forever."
She vanished.
Zhang woke gasping.
Dawn filled the room.
The shard was real—warm in his fist.
The letter lay open.
The outsider's arrival has torn the veil wider…
Below—
BANG! BANG! BANG!
"Open in the name of the Dark Castle! Anomalous flow detected!"
Merlina's eyes flew open. "Leo…"
Zhang stood, dry humor gone thin. "Round two."
He grabbed the shard and journal.
"No more hiding."