[Author] - Quick note, I took some liberties with few parts of the mansion specifically with the layout and design of these areas. I wanted them to feel more realistic rather then game design logic so hope you enjoy it. Photos in the comments.
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The team gathered towards the middle of the small cemetery. Surrounding the strange grave with engraved symbols the team shared what they had found. The Angel statue with praying hand symbol, and the statue 'women emptying pot' with the crescent moon symbol.
"They have to be related to this." Rebecca said pointing to the grave.
"We think it's a puzzle. We tried multiple combinations with the symbols on the grave, but nothing happened."
Chris informed the team.
"We're missing one symbol, the sun." Jill mentioned.
Soren catching Jill's meaning scanned the surroundings for another statue.
"There!"
He pointed behind a set of large tombstones.
"Finally." Barry said as he started walking towards the last statue. That prompted everyone else to follow.
When they reached the statue, the team saw a man with a crown holding up the sun with both hands, high in the air.
At the base of the statue was a symbol of the sun.
Unlike the others, this statue had a faded black plaque. On it the words were barely legible. Rebecca stepped forward and started reading it aloud.
------------------------------
> The Watchers' Edict <
The crowned one greets the breaking dawn,
For birth begins where light is drawn.
Lift high the fire that ends the night,
And mark the world with newborn light.
Kneel in faith beneath the sky,
For love must stand before it dies.
Let humble hearts in silence bend,
For devotion bridges start and end.
When pale moon drinks the dying sun,
The final breath of day is done.
In silver hush the shadows grow,
And all returns to earth below.
Three stand guard and bear the sign,
Of rise and vow and last decline.
Honor each in sacred turn,
And let the ancient order burn.
Repeat the path where watchers stand,
Then seal the cycle by your hand.
Only then shall stone unseal the land.
------------------------------
As she finished the final line, Rebecca felt goosebumps crawl up her arms.
The air felt colder.
"Okay," Frost said, pointing dramatically. "That's creepy."
Barry leaned in closer, rereading the plaque.
A few minutes of discussion followed — quiet, focused. They read it again. Broke it down. Turned the lines over in their heads.
"So," Frost said slowly, scratching his head, "Sun… then praying hands… then crescent moon?"
"Yes, I think—"
"The statues first?" Jill and Soren said at the same time.
They paused.
Looked at each other.
Soren's expression softened. "Exactly."
Rebecca noticed the warmth in his eyes — and the way Jill didn't look away this time. Something unspoken passed between them.
Chris didn't comment. He was already moving.
He reached the sun statue and pressed the symbol.
A low mechanical click echoed through the stone.
Jill walked to the angel statue and pressed the praying hands.
Another click.
Soren approached the crescent moon statue last.
For half a second, he hesitated.
Then he pressed it.
Click.
All three symbols glowed faintly — then dimmed.
Barry moved to the grave and pressed the symbols in the same order.
Sun.
Praying hands.
Crescent moon.
The cemetery fell silent.
Nothing happened.
Frost frowned. "You've got to be kidding me."
Wind whispered through the iron fencing.
Then—
The ground trembled.
Stone scraped against stone as the grave shifted. Dust fell from the surrounding headstones. The slab atop the grave slowly slid aside, revealing a dark passage descending into the earth.
Cold air rushed upward.
Carrying the scent of something old.
They descended the ancient path. The walls here were rough — packed earth and old clay reinforced by uneven stonework. This place hadn't been built for elegance.
It had been buried.
At the bottom of the steps, between two rusted iron sconces, stood a heavy wooden door swollen with age.
Chris stepped forward and pulled.
The hinges groaned in protest.
For a moment, it resisted.
Then it gave.
The passage beyond was pitch black — narrow, oppressive — as if they were about to step into the maw of something waiting.
Jill moved quickly, grabbing one of the torches mounted beside the doorway.
"Chris. Light."
Chris flipped open his Zippo — the one his grandfather had given him — and struck it.
The flame flickered, steady.
He held it to the torch.
Fire caught slowly at first, then bloomed.
Light spilled forward into the tunnel, pushing back the darkness inch by inch.
Jill handed the lit torch to Barry and took the second, igniting it the same way. She moved toward the rear of the formation without comment.
Chris stepped forward into the passage.
As always, he took point.
Barry followed close behind.
Soren and Frost moved next — silent, alert.
Rebecca and Jill brought up the rear, firelight casting long, shifting shadows along the walls.
The air grew colder the deeper they went.
And the darkness ahead did not retreat.
It only waited.
They moved slowly.
The tunnel narrowed as it twisted deeper beneath the estate. The air grew stale, heavy with damp earth and the faint metallic scent of rust.
The torchlight flickered against uneven walls, throwing distorted shadows that stretched and recoiled like living things.
Chris raised a hand.
"Hold."
Everyone froze.
Ahead, the floor changed.
Stone gave way to a section of darker slate, cut cleaner than the surrounding ground.
Barry lowered the torch, angling it.
Thin seams.
Almost invisible.
"Pressure plates," Soren murmured.
Frost crouched low, running a gloved finger along the crack between stones. "Old ones."
Rebecca swallowed. "How old?"
"Old enough to still work," Jill replied.
Chris scanned the walls.
There.
Small circular holes — barely noticeable unless you were looking for them.
"Darts," he said quietly.
Barry shifted his weight back. "Poison?"
"Probably," Soren answered. "Or worse."
The tunnel was too narrow to go around.
They had to go through.
Chris tested the first stone with the barrel of his pistol.
It sank half an inch.
Click.
A sharp thwip split the air as three darts shot from the wall, embedding in the opposite stone with enough force to splinter it.
Rebecca flinched.
Chris exhaled slowly. "Okay. They still work."
Soren stepped forward carefully, studying the spacing between the plates.
"They're not random," he muttered. "There's a pattern."
He traced the floor with his eyes — calculating weight distribution, spacing, rhythm.
"Step where I step."
"Comforting," Frost muttered.
Soren moved first.
Light-footed. Controlled.
He avoided the darker stones, stepping only on the slightly raised ones between.
Chris followed.
Then Barry.
Then Frost.
Rebecca hesitated for half a second.
Jill squeezed her shoulder.
"I've got you."
They moved as one.
Not a single click.
They made it across.
The tunnel curved sharply.
And this time the threat wasn't on the floor.
It was above.
Jill spotted it first.
"Stop."
Thin wires stretched across the passage at knee height — nearly invisible against the clay walls.
Connected to iron brackets along the ceiling.
Barry lifted the torch higher.
Suspended overhead — a massive stone slab balanced precariously between two grooves in the wall.
Frost looked up. "Well that's subtle."
"Trip wire triggers the drop," Chris said.
"And we'd be paste," Rebecca added quietly.
Soren crouched, examining the wire.
"It's brittle."
"So don't touch it," Frost said.
Soren ignored him.
Instead, he scanned the walls again.
There — two shallow indentations in the stone near shoulder height.
Counterweight release points.
He reached slowly, carefully pressing both at the same time.
For a breathless second—
Nothing.
Then a dull internal shift echoed inside the walls.
The stone slab lowered half an inch and locked into place.
Safe.
Barry let out a slow whistle. "You just guessing?"
"No," Soren said. "I've seen worse."
That line lingered longer than it should have.
They stepped over the wire carefully and continued.
The final trap came without warning.
Rebecca stepped forward—
Click
The stone under her foot shifted as the wall beside her snapped open.
A rusted blade swung out in a horizontal arc.
Jill grabbed the back of her collar and yanked her down just in time.
The blade sliced through torchlight where her neck had been a second earlier.
The blade embedded itself back into the wall.
Frost stared at it. "That would've ruined the day."
Rebecca nodded silently, shaken.
Chris examined the mechanism.
"Timed reset."
They didn't wait.
They moved on, before the trap could reset.
Silence followed.
Long.
Unbroken.
Until the tunnel finally widened.
And then—
It ended.
A flat stone wall blocked their path.
Frost exhaled sharply. "You've got to be kidding me."
Barry frowned, lifting the torch.
The flame bent.
Subtly.
Toward the wall.
He blinked.
Held it still.
The flame shifted again — drawn forward by a faint current of air.
Barry's eyes narrowed.
"Hold on."
He stepped closer.
The wall wasn't perfectly flush.
There was a seam.
Barely visible.
"Chris," Barry said slowly. "Push."
Chris stepped forward and placed both hands against the stone.
He shoved.
At first, nothing happened.
Then—
Stone scraped against stone.
Dust fell from above as the section of wall swung inwards.
A stale rush of trapped air poured into the tunnel.
Beyond it—
The hidden crypt.
The one they had tried to enter before.
The one that had collapsed.
The chamber stood intact from this side.
And at its center—
A pedestal.
Upon it rested a single book.
Firelight flickered across its worn leather cover, revealing embossed lettering darkened by age.
~THE LAST BOOK – Vol. I~
Chris stepped forward slightly. "Is that it?"
"Yeah." Soren moved toward the pedestal and lifted the book carefully. Dust shifted from its edges. He turned it toward Jill. "And it's locked. You said to ask."
He tilted it toward her.
Jill rolled her eyes, though the corner of her mouth twitched. She placed the book back on the pedestal and opened the small pouch on her belt. The faint metallic clink of tools followed.
Within moments, the quiet click of a defeated lock echoed in the crypt.
She stood and handed the book back to Soren, a satisfied smirk on her face.
Her expression said, 'Told you so' without words.
"Very impressive," Soren admitted.
As he took the book, his hand overlapped hers.
Neither of them pulled away immediately.
For a brief second, the torchlight caught in Jill's eyes — steady, no longer fractured like before.
"Ahem."
Chris cleared his throat.
"Is the medallion in it?"
Jill let go first and stepped back toward Rebecca.
Soren opened the book.
Its pages had been hollowed out with careful precision. Nestled within was an intricate golden medallion, polished despite its age. At its center was a finely engraved eagle — wings spread wide, talons extended.
"One down," Soren said quietly. "One to go."
He extended the medallion toward Jill.
A gesture.
Not command.
Jill hesitated only a fraction of a second before taking it.
The weight of it settled in her palm.
The gesture meant more to her than Soren understood.
She met his gaze and gave a small nod.
Understood.
"Now we have to go back the same way," Soren said.
Frost exhaled. "Man, I'm started to feel claustrophobic in that tunnel."
"Suck it up, buttercup," Barry shot back.
The team turned toward the passage.
And streamed back into the dark.
They moved back through the tunnel in tighter formation.
No one joked this time.
The traps were behind them now, but the earth still pressed in from all sides. The torches crackled softly. Boots echoed against stone.
The grave opening was only a few yards ahead. Faint gray light filtered down from above.
And then—
Soren stopped.
Not hesitation.
Stillness.
Barry nearly collided with him.
"What—"
"Don't."
Soren's voice came low. Tight.
Shaky.
The tunnel exit framed the night sky like the mouth of a well.
And at the lip—
Two yellow, slitted eyes.
Unblinking.
Watching.
Rebecca's breath caught.
The silhouette above them was barely visible — a darker shape against darker sky. Long limbs folded. Shoulders hunched. Perched.
Waiting.
The torchlight flickered.
The eyes narrowed.
Jill raised her handgun instinctively.
Soren's hand snapped out and closed over her wrist.
"No."
His voice trembled — not from fear.
From calculation.
"If we fire in here," he whispered, eyes never leaving the creature, "the rounds will ricochet off the stone. It's too tight. We'll hit each other."
Chris's jaw tightened.
Soren swallowed.
"And there's only one way out."
The Hunter shifted slightly.
Talons scraped stone.
It knew.
The tunnel favored it.
Confined space.
Limited maneuvering.
Nowhere to flank.
The creature wasn't charging.
It was studying.
Waiting for panic.
Waiting for the first mistake.
Frost adjusted his grip on the shotgun but didn't raise it.
Because Soren was right.
One blast in this corridor and the pellets would bounce like shrapnel.
They would kill themselves before the Hunter did.
The air felt thinner.
The Hunter inhaled.
Slow.
Measured.
A chittering vibration hummed in its throat.
Jill's pulse thundered beneath Soren's fingers.
"Then what?" she whispered.
Soren didn't answer immediately.
Instead—
He let go and stepped forward.
Out of formation.
Just one pace.
Barry hissed quietly. "Soren—"
The Hunter's posture changed instantly.
The predatory stillness shifted into alert recognition.
Its head tilted.
Those yellow eyes locked onto Soren.
Something passed between them.
Not familiarity.
Recognition.
The torchlight caught Soren's face — the sharp lines, the calm expression, the faint unnatural intensity behind his own eyes.
The Hunter's arm twitched once.
Testing.
Measuring.
Soren took another step.
Slow.
Deliberate.
No weapon raised.
The Hunter flexed its claws.
Then—
It straightened to full height.
Tall.
Longer than they remembered.
Its gaze never left Soren.
Not Jill.
Not Chris.
Not the others.
Only him.
A low rumble vibrated in its chest.
Then the creature stepped backward.
One step.
Then another.
Never breaking eye contact.
It wasn't retreating in fear.
It was disengaging.
The Hunter backed into the fog.
And vanished.
Silence crashed down into the tunnel.
No one moved.
Several seconds passed in silence.
Rebecca exhaled first.
Frost swallowed.
"That… wasn't normal."
"No," Soren said quietly.
"It knew."
Chris's eyes shifted toward him. "Knew what?"
Soren didn't answer.
Because he wasn't entirely sure.
But the way the Hunter had looked at him—
It hadn't seen prey.
It had seen something else.
And that felt worse.
The climb up the stone steps felt longer than before.
No one spoke.
No one relaxed.
Every footstep echoed too loudly in the narrow throat of the tunnel.
The grave opening grew closer with each step — a square of pale night framed in stone.
Chris reached the top first.
He didn't rush out.
He paused just below the lip, listening.
The wind moved softly above.
No scraping claws.
No shifting gravel.
Still—
He didn't move.
Barry lifted the torch slightly higher, letting the flame lick toward the open air.
The fire bent sideways in the breeze.
Normal.
Soren stepped up beside Chris.
Slowly.
Carefully.
He looked to where the Hunter had been perched.
The stone edge of the grave was empty.
But the marks remained.
Deep grooves carved into the stone lip.
Talons.
Not imagined.
Not a trick of the dark.
Real.
Jill emerged next, handgun already drawn this time. She scanned the cemetery in a slow arc — tombstones, iron fence, tree line, cabin on the hill.
Nothing moved.
Frost climbed out and turned immediately, covering the tunnel entrance.
Rebecca followed last, her breath shallow despite her effort to steady it.
The small cemetery felt different now.
Quieter.
Like something had passed through it and unsettled the air.
The fog hung lower than before, rolling between the headstones in thin, slow currents.
Chris stepped fully out of the grave and extended a hand to help Rebecca.
No one sheathed a weapon.
Soren remained near the edge for a moment longer.
His gaze swept the perimeter.
Tree line.
Cabin window.
Fence.
The darker stretch beyond the outer gate.
Nothing.
But the silence wasn't empty.
It felt observed.
Jill noticed him lingering.
"You think it's still here?" she asked quietly.
Soren didn't answer immediately.
Then—
"Yes."
Not close.
But not far either.
Barry shifted uneasily. "You think it's going to try again?"
"No," Soren said, eyes still scanning the fog. "Not yet."
That was worse.
The wind stirred again, brushing through the cemetery grass.
A distant branch snapped somewhere beyond the stone wall.
Frost turned toward the sound instantly.
Shotgun raised.
Nothing followed.
No charge.
No scream.
Just the oppressive awareness that something was watching, tracking.
Chris finally broke the silence.
"Move. We're not standing around in the open."
They reformed automatically.
Chris at point.
Barry close behind.
Soren and Frost in the middle.
Jill and Rebecca taking rear.
But the formation felt different now.
Tighter.
Weapons higher.
Breaths quieter.
As they stepped away from the grave, the fog shifted again — curling slowly over the stone lip as if something unseen had brushed past it.
Soren didn't look back.
But he felt it.
The Hunter hadn't retreated.
It had yielded.
And that meant it was thinking.
The small cemetery gate creaked softly as Barry pulled it open. The iron groaned louder than it had before, the sound scraping against already frayed nerves.
Chris stepped through first.
The larger graveyard stretched ahead in dim moonlight, rows of headstones dissolving into drifting fog.
The snake's corpse lay where it had fallen.
Or what remained of it.
The massive body had collapsed inward even further. Flesh sloughed off bone in slow, wet folds. Blackened ichor pooled beneath it, seeping into cracks between stone slabs.
The smell hit harder this time.
Not fresh death.
Decay.
Something breaking down too fast.
Rebecca covered her nose again, but this time it wasn't just the stench that made her uneasy.
The corpse looked… disturbed.
Not moved.
But altered.
As if something had been feeding.
Barry noticed it too. "That wasn't like that before."
No one answered.
Soren didn't slow down.
But his eyes lingered on the edges of the carcass.
Claw marks cut through softened flesh.
Deep.
Deliberate.
The fog shifted low across the ground, wrapping around their boots as they moved.
Every step away from the grave felt like crossing open ground under a sniper's gaze.
No sound followed them.
No pursuit.
That was worse.
They reached the outer steps of the estate.
The mansion loomed above them, its windows dark and unwelcoming. From a distance it had once looked grand.
Now it looked hollow.
Watching.
Chris paused at the entrance.
He listened.
Nothing.
Not even the usual distant shuffling.
The silence inside the mansion felt heavier than the silence outside.
He pushed the door open.
The hinges echoed through the main hall like a gunshot.
They stepped inside.
The air felt stale immediately.
The chandelier above swayed faintly — though no wind had entered with them.
Jill scanned the balcony.
Rebecca scanned the staircase.
Frost checked the corners.
Barry shut the door behind them, the heavy steel sealing with a final, resonant thud.
The sound reverberated.
And then—
Stillness.
Too complete.
Chris exhaled slowly. "We move. This library's passed the chemical room, right?"
Soren nodded.
They descended the small set of steps heading back to the dining hall.
But as they crossed the main hall floor, Soren slowed.
Just slightly.
His gaze lifted to the upper railing.
For half a second—
He thought he saw movement.
A shadow slipping out of sight.
Gone before he could focus on it.
He didn't mention it.
Because he wasn't sure.
And because the Hunter wasn't the only predator in this house anymore.
They reached the double doors leading to the dining room.
Weapons ready.
Formation tight.
And the mansion remained quiet.
Waiting.
Chris and Barry pushed the double doors open.
The dining room swallowed them.
Tik…
Tik…
Tik…
The old grandfather clock echoed through the marble chamber, each second too loud in the stillness.
The long rectangular table stood exactly as they had left it. Plates overturned. Silverware scattered. Wine glasses shattered and dried. Candle wax hardened into crooked stalagmites across tarnished holders.
Nothing had moved.
Which somehow felt worse.
The team spread out without needing instruction.
Barry checked the far wall and fireplace.
Frost swept the corners.
Jill's eyes lifted instinctively toward the second-floor balcony that overlooked the dining room. Empty.
Moonlight spilled through the tall windows, casting long skeletal shadows across the floor and up the walls. The room looked frozen in time.
Chris moved toward the side door leading to the hallway.
He paused only a second.
Then pushed it open.
The hinge gave a soft, tired groan.
They stepped through.
Kenneth's body lay exactly where it had fallen.
Still.
Unmoved.
The dried blood around him had darkened to a near-black stain against the floorboards.
Rebecca's steps slowed.
This time, she didn't look away.
She made herself look.
A reminder.
Three other shapes lay farther down the hall along the walls.
The Crimson Heads Barry and Chris had put down earlier.
They hadn't decomposed normally.
Their bodies looked tighter now.
Drawn.
Skin stretched thin over bone.
Muscle fibers rigid beneath pale flesh, as if something inside them refused to surrender.
Frost stared at them a second too long.
Barry noticed.
"Keep moving," he said quietly.
The staircase groaned beneath their weight.
Each step seemed louder than the last.
Chris reached the landing first.
The single door ahead stood closed.
Waiting.
He turned the knob.
It opened without resistance.
A narrow hallway stretched forward.
Halfway down, a branching corridor opened to the right leading back to the chemical room.
Chris didn't hesitate.
Straight.
They passed the side hall without comment.
Boots whispering over carpet worn thin with age.
At the end of the hall—
Another door.
Chris opened it.
Cold air greeted them.
The hallway beyond was long.
Stone floor.
Stone walls.
And lining both sides—
Knights.
Full suits of ancient armor stood shoulder to shoulder, each resting on a stone base.
Helmets lowered.
Visors dark.
Polearms clasped in metal hands.
Moonlight from high slit windows struck the armor at angles, creating narrow streaks of silver across dented breastplates.
Shadows pooled between them.
The suits were positioned too precisely.
Too evenly spaced.
As if guarding something.
Barry's grip tightened around his magnum.
"Don't touch anything," he muttered.
No one intended to.
They walked the center line of the corridor.
Metal faintly clicked somewhere behind them.
Everyone froze.
Nothing moved.
The armor remained still.
Soren didn't look back.
But his senses stayed sharp.
At the end of the hall—
The library door.
Large.
Wooden.
Carved with faded designs of vines and script.
Chris reached it first.
He didn't hesitate.
He opened it.
They all stepped inside.
The door closed behind them with a low, final sound.
The initial entryway was narrow — a short corridor on the left.
Visible shafts of moonlight filtering through unseen windows deeper inside.
They walked forward a few feet rounded the corner.
Then—
The space opened to a small room.
Old windows covered the left wall as small bookshelves lined the right side.
It was a small reading room with old leather chairs and small coffee tables placed below the windows.
The small reading room led to an old yet elegant balcony.
They crossed the reading room and stepped onto the balcony as the library revealed itself.
It was massive.
The largest room they had seen in the mansion.
Rows of towering bookshelves filled the lower level, stretching like a forest of dark spines.
Moonlight poured in through the enormous windowed dome — more than anywhere else in the estate.
Tall, arched panes lined the outer wall.
Silver light flooded the room.
Dust drifted in the beams like falling ash.
The balcony wrapped around the upper perimeter, wrought-iron railing cold beneath their hands.
From here—
They still couldn't see the entire lower floor.
Bookshelves blocked direct sightlines.
Deep shadows pooled between them.
The air felt different here.
Older.
Heavier.
Rebecca swallowed.
"This place…"
Her voice barely rose above a whisper.
Then they heard it.
Low.
Wet.
Gurgling.
And rising.
"AAAAAAHHHHHHH!"
The howl tore through the library.
Not the shriek of a Hunter.
Not the feral scream they had heard before.
This was deeper.
Older.
Layered with rot.
It began below.
Echoed against stone.
Rose toward the vaulted ceiling.
Then fractured into a distorted roar that shook the shelves.
Windows trembled.
Dust fell.
The sound carried authority.
A command.
Somewhere below—
Something moved.
Books shifted.
Shadows slid between shelves.
Then—
From the lower floor—
Other sounds answered.
Scraping.
Dragging.
Multiple.
The first howl had not been alone.
It had called.
And something had obeyed.
Chris raised his weapon.
Barry stepped to the railing.
Frost swallowed.
Rebecca's breath hitched.
Jill's jaw tightened.
And Soren—
Soren felt it.
That presence.
Stronger.
Older.
Watching.
A second howl rose.
Shorter.
Closer.
Directly beneath them.
Wood splintered.
Something heavy struck the underside of the balcony.
Claws dug into the wood.
And began to climb.