28
She wanted to say something. To stand beside Lucus, and help him fight if need be. But there was something in the smith’s expression that told her she shouldn’t. A little voice inside her head, screaming for her to listen.
Slowly she backed away.
The house was barely visible now. The mist seemed to be closing in on all sides. Squinting hard Melody could just make it out, looming from a great blanket of swirling grey. She ran hard again across the soft wet earth, clutching the pendant that dangled from her neck. Resisting the urge to look back at the men squared off behind her.
She reached the Veranda, then circled around the front of the manor. The double doors were closed, but not locked. Melody swung them open and burst inside, somehow still conscious she’d be tracking dirt and mud all over the beautiful oaken floors.
One look around told her she didn’t have to worry.
The house was an absolute wreck.
Everything inside the manor was either broken or blackened. Shattered into pieces, or left in a complete state of disrepair.
Melody’s mouth dropped open in shock. The once-magnificent foyer was a mess of debris. The staircase looked absolutely treacherous; aside from shredded carpet and jagged holes in the stair risers, half the banister was missing. Melody walked the first floor, room by room. It was like being in a dream. Only it wasn’t a dream, it was reality, and the reality was exactly as Lucus had predicted it would be.
Something happened to this place.
Whatever it was, it was happening now.
Something terrible that happens again and again, and it can never be stopped…
Melody spun around, taking it all in. The inside of the manor was somehow darker than ever. Outside, through one of the windows, she could see the sun had already gone down.
“That’s impossible,” she said aloud. “It’s not even noon yet!”
Half the windows were broken. The air had taken on a humidity that made the place smell like rot. Everywhere she looked she saw swollen wood. Disjointed paneling. Wallpaper peeling away in long curls, from the darkened, moldy walls.
Voices floated in, from somewhere off to her left — people talking in low tones, speaking words she couldn’t make out. Melody willed her feet to move in that direction. Cautiously she went to them, not knowing what to expect.
The dining hall.
She peeked inside, afraid to go in. Supper was being served again, as it always had been. And just like the rest of the house, everything had changed…
The man at the head of the table was old now, his hair gone completely white. He looked positively venerable. His back was bent, his face contorted with pain. He presided over an empty table, with virtually no food at all.
The Colonel was gone. His seat sat empty. In his place, his hat rested on the table in his honor, right where his plate would be.
Anabelle and Emily’s seats were of course vacant, as was the old woman’s. But the most profound change was in the banker. Thin wisps of hair were combed over his flaky scalp, and beneath that, two dark, sunken eyes. All of his excess weight was gone. His body now appeared so thin and wasted, his suit hung off him like it was draped over a skeleton.
What little dishes there were appeared pale and wilted. Some of the entrees even looked rotten. The young boy Melody had spoken to only two nights ago was now full-grown man, picking at a small plate of shriveled potatoes. None of them spoke. They barely even looked at each other.
The only person in the room who looked the same was Miles. Still seated at the end of the table, he raised his head slowly and looked straight into Melody’s eyes. She saw nothing but despair in his two silver orbs. A profound, unending sorrow. Melody frowned sympathetically. She bit her lip in frustration, then forced herself to look away.
Upstairs. The egg…
Missing from supper, as always, was Lady Neveux. If she was still in the house — hell, if she were even still alive — now would be the time to find her.
Melody fled from the dining hall, sprinting back into the foyer and taking the staircase as fast as she dared. This time she ignored the second floor completely. Continuing onward, past the manor’s ever-blackening walls, she gained the third floor landing and stopped with her hands on her knees, huffing and puffing.
The hallways were especially dark up here. Dank and musty. Melody tread through them barefoot, trying not to step on anything sharp or painful.
She thought about Eric, and about how everything Lucus said about her companion had been true. However long he’d been here, his goal wasn’t the egg. All along, it had been her.
More specifically, her pendant.
The Heart of Isolomara had stopped glowing the moment she stepped away from the mist. She wished it glowed now. She could use the heat, and the light as well. As it was, Melody could barely see anything.
A strong odor reached her nostrils. It was a familiar scent, musky and pungent and foul.
The smell from the hallway…
She continued more slowly. Each door she passed was open, leading into virtual darkness. Barely any moonlight penetrated the chambers up here. The windows were mostly broken, the curtains flapping wildly through the jagged, glass-strewn openings.
But no people. No occupants. Only beds, and bedrooms, empty and forgotten.
The smell grew stronger, then stronger still. As she reached the last opening in the hallway, Melody found the door closed… but not locked.
Her hand shook as she turned the knob. It creaked beneath her knuckles. The sound it made was shrill and violating, even though muffled by her trembling fingers.
Slowly the door squeaked opened, revealing a darkness more absolute than anything else in the manor house. But there was something there. Something set against the opposite wall, at the far end of the chamber.
Melody’s heart pounded wildly as she stepped inside.