Ace's POV
My head throbbed with frustration, the confusion twisting my stomach into knots. Nothing made sense. It was like every clue we found just added another layer of chaos to the already tangled mess. Was the little boy lying? No… Spirits didn't lie—they couldn't. But their memories could be fragmented, warped by trauma. Or worse, maybe someone had manipulated the truth even in death.
I took a shaky breath, running a hand through my hair. My hands were still bleeding from the glass shards earlier, but I barely felt the pain—too wrapped up in the spiral of thoughts. I glanced at Phoenix, who was just as pale and shaken as I was, though he was trying to keep it together.
"Phoenix," I muttered, almost like I was talking to myself. "If the boy's telling the truth, then why did that vision show something else? Was it even real? Or did the spirit make it up? Or… hell, are we being played here?"
He looked at me with uncertainty, clearly as lost as I was. "Maybe… maybe the father did hurt the mother, but someone else took advantage of the situation? Framed him for the murders after he lost control?"
I didn't get the chance to reply because suddenly, the door—our only way out—slammed shut with a deafening bang. My heart leapt into my throat, and I bolted toward it, yanking the handle. It didn't budge.
"What the actual fuck?" I cursed under my breath, kicking at it out of pure frustration. "No, no, no—don't do this to me now!"
Phoenix rushed over, trying to help me push it open, but it wouldn't move an inch. Panic gnawed at the edges of my mind, but I forced it down. We couldn't afford to freak out now.
"It's like something's locking us in," Phoenix whispered, glancing around with wide, fearful eyes. "What if the spirits are angry? Or trying to trap us?"
I clenched my jaw. "Damn it! This is ridiculous. What do they want from us? We're trying to help them!"
A sudden cold breeze swept through the hall, and I could hear faint whispering—like a thousand distorted voices overlapping, clawing at my mind. I couldn't make out the words, but the malice was palpable, suffocating.
Phoenix gripped my sleeve. "Ace… we need to stay calm. Panicking will just make things worse."
I took a shaky breath, forcing myself to think rationally. "You're right. Let's look for another way out. There has to be a window or something we can break through."
We moved cautiously through the corridors, the oppressive energy thickening with every step. I felt like I was wading through tar, my senses on high alert for any sudden movements or hostile spirits. The mansion wasn't just haunted—it was alive, breathing with anger and pain. And right now, it seemed hell-bent on keeping us from leaving.
I couldn't help but curse under my breath, feeling trapped and powerless. All I knew was that whatever was keeping us here wasn't done playing with us yet—and we had no choice but to face it head-on.
To my surprise, Phoenix seemed calmer than me, his breathing steady despite the panic swirling in the air. It was odd seeing him like that—usually, I was the one keeping it together while he freaked out. But right now, his composure was the only thing keeping me grounded.
I forced myself to take a breath and glanced around, searching for any sign of movement or an exit we might've missed earlier. The room felt colder, the air thick with tension and something else—grief, maybe? Pain? It was suffocating.
Then suddenly, without warning, a figure flickered into existence right in front of us. I froze, my instincts screaming at me to move, but my feet wouldn't budge. Phoenix stiffened beside me, his eyes widening as recognition dawned on his face.
It was her—the girl he saw in his dream. The one who had been running for her life before it was brutally cut short. She stood there, translucent and shimmering with a faint, ethereal glow. Her eyes looked hollow, a deep sadness etched into her pale, ghostly features. Blood stained the front of her dress, and her hair hung in tangled, messy strands over her shoulders.
Phoenix swallowed hard, taking a hesitant step forward. "You… you're the girl from the dream," he whispered, his voice trembling but resolute.
Her gaze flickered between us, almost like she was trying to remember who we were or why we were there. I could see the confusion and pain in her expression, like she was caught between wanting to reach out and wanting to vanish completely.
I nudged Phoenix gently, signaling for him to stay cautious. I didn't know what she wanted—or if she'd even recognize us as allies. Spirits like hers were unpredictable, especially when driven by pain and anger.
"What do you want?" I asked cautiously, keeping my voice steady. "Why are you showing yourself now?"
Her lips moved, but no sound came out. She looked desperate, like she was trying to tell us something important but couldn't find the words. I glanced at Phoenix, and he gave me a worried look, clearly unsure of how to proceed.
"Is there something you need us to know?" Phoenix asked softly, stepping just a little closer. "We're here to help. Please, tell us what happened."
Her expression twisted in agony, and for a brief moment, her hands moved to her throat, as if she was trying to choke back a scream. Then, just as quickly as she appeared, she started fading again, her form flickering like a dying flame.
"No, wait!" Phoenix called out, but it was too late—she was gone, leaving behind nothing but the chilling silence.
I clenched my fists, feeling frustration boil up inside me. We were so close—so damn close to getting something out of her. But now she was gone, and we were back to square one. I could sense Phoenix's disappointment too, but there wasn't time to dwell on it. We needed to figure out what she was trying to convey—and fast.
"Damn it," I muttered under my breath, rubbing the back of my neck. "Why did she come now? And why couldn't she speak?"
Phoenix looked down, his face etched with guilt. "Maybe… maybe she's not allowed to. Like something's stopping her from telling the truth."
I let out a harsh sigh, trying to piece it all together. "Or someone doesn't want her to. Someone who's still holding control even after death."
Phoenix shivered at that thought, and I couldn't blame him. Whatever was going on here was more twisted than I initially thought, and it seemed like the mansion itself was hell-bent on keeping its secrets buried.
We didn't waste another second. I grabbed Phoenix's arm, and we made a break for one of the windows, shoving it open just enough to slip through. The air outside felt colder than before, prickling against my skin as I helped Phoenix through and climbed out myself.
A chill ran down my spine, and instinct screamed that something was following us—something dark and angry. I didn't dare look back. We sprinted toward my bike, my heart pounding like a war drum in my chest. Phoenix kept glancing over his shoulder, his breath shaky and uneven.
"Get on!" I ordered, practically shoving the helmet into his hands before straddling the bike. He hopped on behind me, gripping my waist tightly as I kicked the engine to life. Without wasting a single moment, I revved the throttle and tore out of there, gravel crunching beneath the tires as we sped down the desolate road.
The ride back felt longer than it should have, paranoia gnawing at my thoughts as if whatever was after us would leap out at any second. Phoenix didn't say a word, just buried his face against my back, his hold never loosening. I pushed the bike faster, desperate to put as much distance between us and that cursed mansion as possible.