Old Secrets

The secret room lay shrouded in a perpetual gloom.

Countless candles, imbued with holy silver, dotted the floor, yet only a handful flickered with a faint, pea-sized glow.

The rest had long since extinguished, their waxen tears defying gravity.

Twisted by an unknown force, the melted wax climbed upward, forming grotesque lines that resembled slender tentacles, desperately reaching for an unseen something.

Eerie and grotesque Gothic reliefs adorned the walls.

Their terrifying, black-painted hues seemed infused with a maddening delirium, making them impossible to behold directly.

A burnt, putrid stench permeated the turbid, icy air.

The once expensive crimson carpet was now marred by dried brown stains.

Bookshelves lay toppled, murals were scorched beyond recognition, leaving a landscape of utter devastation.

No light, no order, no life remained in this place.

Only the deathly stillness that followed a catastrophic sweep, and the chaotic horror that lurked, crawling and peeking, within the shadows.

From the encroaching darkness, a grotesque and terrifying cackle echoed.

It sliced through the air like fingernails raking across a blackboard, utterly unbearable and soul-crushingly maddening.

“Annelise, ah, Annelise, my lovely little Annelise, what are you resisting now? I’ve bestowed upon you an immortal body, and I’ve protected your castle~~ Let us become o-o-one~”

The dreadful voice delivered its words in a grotesque aria, punctuated by a supernatural ticking.

It effortlessly conjured images of a greedy maw, dripping with viscous slime, lurking in the profound darkness.

“Shut up! Had I known I was summoning you, I would never have dared to use the holy artifact! And your idea of ‘protection’—was it turning everyone within this castle into monsters?!”

Her voice, once magnetic, charming, and brimming with confidence, was now reduced to a dry, hoarse rasp, laced with agonizing endurance.

It was like a pitiful duck whose throat had been stuffed with straw.

The Bloodline’s female Archduchess sat upon the central throne, suffering both physical oppression and mental torment.

The grotesque cackle resounded once more, brimming with an air of overwhelming smugness and pure malice.

“Heheheheheh, you spoke so much, yet you still summoned me, didn’t you? Ah! I absolutely adore your look of utter despair…

…To bestow hope, only to then personally shatter it—that feeling is truly magnificent!! Ah ha ha ha…”

“SHUT UP!!!”

A hysterical roar, laced with the clang of metal, reverberated through the sealed confines of the secret room.

As the figure swayed, the meager candlelight at last illuminated the woman who had cried out.

It was the silhouette of a slender, tall lady, adorned in a magnificent wine-red gown.

Yet, remarkably, her head—crowned with lustrous silver-white hair—was entirely obscured by a sealed silver helmet, intricately patterned.

“Heheheheh, don’t be angry, little Annelise. You should feel honored. I, the great Star-Prowler, have taken a liking to this vessel of yours.

And surely you don’t believe this shoddy Habak helmet can contain me indefinitely, do you? Be a good girl and let me consume you~~~”

That grotesque and terrifying voice, a sound capable of driving any ordinary person to madness, emanated from within the helmet itself!

“You… monster!”

The next instant, a dry, gritting voice, laced with a subtle despair and helplessness, similarly issued forth from the helmet.

These two utterly disparate wills were, astonishingly, sharing the same physical vessel!

“Monster? No, no, no. I am a sublime, great, invincible deity—a god incomprehensible to mere mortals—I am the Star-Prowler!”

“You liar…”

Under the weight of this unspeakable horror, the once majestic Bloodline Queen could only manage a feeble curse.

“But you were willing, weren’t you~~? I descended contentedly, fulfilling your very will, so what’s the problem?

It was merely a slight indulgence in gluttony… However, your defiant stance, preferring death to submission, reminds me of a distant past… Your grandmother, that wretched hussy who sealed me in that chamber pot! That madwoman!”

For the first time, the ‘great’ being, calling itself the Star-Prowler, infused its tone with a palpable hint of angry embarrassment.

“My grandmother? Grace Floralis Hearst?”

“Exactly! That madwoman… But what does it matter? In the end, wasn’t her soul shredded and devoured by me, leaving barely a trace? Ah ha ha ha ha…”

“My grandmother? The one branded ‘Traitor to the Bloodline,’ ‘Dotard’? How could that be?!”

“…Oh, so that’s the tale? Oh! My poor old Grace! You sacrificed everything for your lineage, only to be bestowed with such ignoble titles.

This is truly… utterly hilarious! Ha ha ha ha! Ha ha ha ha! Ah ha ha ha ha!!”

In the profound darkness, a series of breathless, twisted, and utterly joyful maniacal laughter erupted.

“Damn you, monster! You’re sifting through my memories again!!”

“Heheheh, it’s quite alright! After all, we shall eventually merge into one~~ so what difference does it make?

How does it feel? Are you surprised? Ashamed? Utterly disbelieving? Let me whisper another shocking secret to you~~ Your mother, that little girl named Faye, actually bore no kinship to Grace whatsoever.

That old woman, Grace, remained a virgin until her very last breath~~ It’s true!”

The voice, deliberately lowered, dripped with unbridled mockery and the gleeful excitement of witnessing the Archduchess’s incredulity.

“H-how… how is that possible?!”

“Oh, little Annelise! Your expression is simply divine! This bittersweet blend of ‘heart in turmoil’ and ‘utter disbelief’ is truly too delectable~~ I desire to devour you even more!”

Annelise felt as though a wet, slimy tongue had licked her soul through a pane of glass.

The icy, nauseating sensation made her stomach clench, sending her into a fit of violent dry heaves.

“Tsk, this helmet is truly bothersome… However, slowly witnessing your descent into collapse is a rather delightful game.

Devouring you in a single bite would simply lack this exquisite flavor! Oh! Star-Prowler! You truly are a genius!”

The exaggerated, narcissistic tone, far from being mere self-admiration, felt more like a malicious coercion aimed directly at its listener.

“Keep going! Be strong, my girl! I’m rooting for you, you know!

Because if you can’t bear it any longer… I shall simply swallow you whole! So be careful, be very, very careful indeed~~”

“That’s enough for today. The Star-Prowler shall now take its rest. There’ll be delightful Evil God music to savor at midnight~~

My little Annelise, my soon-to-be acquired earthly vessel…”

“But when my other companions, soon to awaken, behold me possessing such a magnificent physical form, what expressions will grace their faces? I truly cannot wait! Ah ha ha ha…”

With one last burst of malicious, maniacal laughter, the Evil God’s frantic and grotesque voice finally began to fade into silence.

Stillness reclaimed the secret room, broken only by the faint, exhausted gasps that resonated through the air.

“DAMN IT!!!”

In the oppressive darkness, the dull thud of flesh against metal resounded.

The fallen Gothic reliefs were smeared with blood and gore.

A severed, eerie head, characteristic of the style, lay staring like a corpse with eyes frozen open in death.

It seemed to fix its gaze upon the approaching puppet, as if to warn her of the desperate horror lurking within this crumbling, sinister edifice.

The great scythe, wreathed in grey-white mist, swept forth with a gentle sigh.

The surge of magic instantly conjured a fierce gale, tearing the shattered relief blocking the doorway from its foundations!

Boom!

A thunderous crash echoed as the black wooden door, situated just beyond, was kicked inward.

A chill, decaying wind howled through the newly formed opening, causing the puppet’s robes to flutter violently.

At last, the nightmarish scene unfolded before their very eyes.

Gold-threaded decorations were choked with dust and bloodstains.

Vengeful spirits ceaselessly circled in the air and beneath the vaulted ceilings, emitting bone-chilling, malevolent wails.

The ground was awash with blood and dismembered corpses.

Towering, dense bookshelves and crystal chandeliers suspended from above were entombed in thick cobwebs.

An aura of sinister decay, ruin, and arcane mystery permeated the air.

The puppet once again caught the putrid stench, a smell born of history’s lingering remnants.

Roar…

It was the guttural cry of a crawling, deformed creature.

The puppet turned, admonishing the two figures huddled behind her to keep pace.

“Protect yourselves, and follow me. Let’s go!”

With the nightmare scythe held before her, the puppet stepped into the castle, a true domain of ghouls.