The devil's conspiracy

THE DEVIL'S CONSPIRACY Chapter 6: The Man Beneath the Floor

THE DEVIL'S CONSPIRACY

Chapter 6: The Man Beneath the Floor

The voice beneath the floor whispered again.

“Michael…”

He stood completely still.

The tunnel was silent except for the sound of his breathing.

Then came three knocks.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Michael stepped backward.

“Who are you?”

For several seconds, there was no answer.

Then the voice spoke.

“I am the reason your family survived.”

Michael's heart pounded.

“What does that mean?”

A quiet laugh came from beneath the floor.

“You are asking the wrong question.”

A crack suddenly appeared between the stones beneath his feet.

Michael jumped away.

Cold air rose from the opening.

The black key in his hand began to vibrate.

Then it slipped from his fingers and fell onto the floor.

The moment the key touched the stone, the crack stopped spreading.

Silence returned.

Michael stared at it.

He slowly picked it up.

A strange symbol appeared on his palm.

It was the same symbol he had seen on the black door.

“What are you doing to me?” he whispered.

The voice answered:

“Nothing.”

A pause.

“You were already chosen.”

Michael felt a chill move through him.

Before he could ask another question, one of the stones moved.

It slid aside, revealing a narrow staircase leading downward.

Michael stared into the darkness.

A single candle suddenly appeared at the bottom.

Then another.

Then another.

One by one, candles lit along the staircase.

Something wanted him to go down.

Michael knew it.

And yet, he couldn't stop himself.

He stepped onto the first stair.

The moment his foot touched it, every candle went out.

Michael froze.

A voice whispered beside his ear.

“Don't look behind you.”

It was his grandmother.

Michael closed his eyes.

“Grandma?”

“Keep walking.”

He almost turned.

Then he remembered her warning.

If he calls your name, don't answer.

So Michael continued.

The staircase seemed endless.

The deeper he went, the colder the air became.

Then he heard footsteps behind him.

Slow.

Heavy.

Following his every movement.

Michael kept walking.

The footsteps became louder.

He wanted to look.

He didn't.

Suddenly, he reached the bottom.

The footsteps stopped.

Michael turned.

There was nobody there.

He looked ahead.

A large underground chamber stretched before him.

In the center stood an old wooden table.

On the table was a leather diary.

Michael recognized it immediately.

His grandmother's diary.

He approached cautiously.

“How did you get here?”

The diary opened by itself.

The pages turned rapidly before stopping.

Fresh black ink appeared on the page.

MICHAEL, IF YOU HAVE FOUND THIS, THEN I FAILED.

Michael swallowed.

Another sentence appeared.

DO NOT BELIEVE THE MAN BENEATH THE FLOOR.

Michael stepped back.

“What man?”

The answer came from behind a wooden door at the other end of the chamber.

“You.”

Michael turned sharply.

The voice was his own.

His heart began racing.

The wooden door shook.

“Open the door,” the voice said.

Michael shook his head.

“No.”

A quiet laugh came from behind it.

“You already opened the first door.”

Michael gripped the black key.

“What are you?”

The voice became softer.

“I am what your family created.”

Michael stared at the door.

“How?”

A long silence followed.

Then the voice answered.

“Your great-grandfather wanted his family to live forever.”

Michael remembered the diary.

The bargain.

The promise.

The wealth.

The protection.

“What did he give Malachar?”

The voice laughed.

“Malachar?”

The door shook again.

“Malachar was only the messenger.”

Michael's blood ran cold.

“Then who made the bargain?”

“The thing behind the black door.”

Michael remembered the ancient presence he had encountered.

The creature that had made Malachar afraid.

“What did my family promise?”

“One life.”

Michael frowned.

“For every generation?”

“No.”

The voice became darker.

“One life to create another.”

Michael didn't understand.

“What does that mean?”

The door slowly opened.

A man stepped out.

Michael stopped breathing.

The man looked exactly like him.

Same face.

Same height.

Same eyes.

Even the same scar.

Michael stumbled backward.

“Who are you?”

The man looked at him sadly.

“You.”

“No.”

“You've said that before.”

“When?”

The man's expression changed.

“Before they killed you.”

Michael's face went pale.

“What?”

The stranger stepped closer.

“Your family has been doing this for generations.”

Michael shook his head.

“They sacrificed people.”

“No.”

The stranger pointed at him.

“They created vessels.”

Michael looked down at his hands.

“What kind of vessels?”

The stranger whispered:

“For the thing beneath the house.”

Michael remembered the black door.

The ancient voice.

The darkness.

“You're lying.”

“Am I?”

The stranger pointed toward the wall.

A large mirror appeared.

Michael looked into it.

At first, he saw himself.

Then his reflection smiled.

Michael didn't.

He stepped backward.

The reflection raised its hand.

Michael's hand remained at his side.

Then the reflection whispered:

“You died three times.”

Michael felt dizzy.

“What?”

The stranger watched him carefully.

“You don't remember, do you?”

Michael tried to think.

The night his grandmother called.

The house.

The basement.

Sarah.

Everything seemed real.

But there were gaps in his memory.

Large empty spaces.

“What happened to me?”

The stranger answered:

“Your grandmother brought you here when you were a child.”

Michael shook his head.

“I've never been here.”

“You don't remember.”

“Why?”

“Because she made you forget.”

Michael's anger grew.

“Why would she do that?”

The stranger looked away.

“Because she was afraid of what you would become.”

The room suddenly shook.

Dust fell from the ceiling.

The stranger looked upward.

“He knows we're here.”

“Who?”

The stranger whispered:

“Malachar.”

A deep growl echoed through the chamber.

Then a voice called from somewhere above.

“Michael.”

The stranger grabbed his arm.

“Don't answer.”

The voice came again.

“Michael!”

Michael stayed silent.

The stranger pulled him toward a narrow passage behind the chamber.

“Run.”

They hurried through the passage.

Michael looked back once.

The wooden door slammed shut behind them.

Something hit it from the other side.

BOOM!

Michael jumped.

“What is that?”

“Something that should have remained asleep.”

They kept moving.

Finally, they reached a small room.

Inside was an old bed, a wooden chair and several drawings on the wall.

Michael stopped.

One drawing showed a little boy standing beside an old woman.

Behind them stood a tall black figure.

Underneath it were four words:

MICHAEL AND HIS SHADOW.

Michael touched the drawing.

Pain suddenly exploded through his head.

Memories flooded into his mind.

A little boy crying.

His grandmother holding his hand.

A dark room.

A black door.

A voice whispering:

You belong to me.

Then his grandmother screaming.

Michael collapsed.

When he opened his eyes, the stranger was standing over him.

“You remembered.”

Michael struggled to breathe.

“She brought me here.”

“Yes.”

“She knew about this place.”

“Yes.”

“She knew about you.”

“Yes.”

Michael stared at him.

“Why did she choose me?”

The stranger hesitated.

“Because you weren't the first.”

Michael's heart stopped.

“What?”

The stranger pointed toward the wall.

Behind the drawings were photographs.

Michael wiped away the dust.

There were dozens.

Children.

Teenagers.

Adults.

Every generation of his family.

Then he saw one photograph that made him freeze.

It showed the stranger.

Beneath it was a date.

1954.

Michael looked at him.

“You were here in 1954.”

The stranger nodded.

“I was the first.”

Michael's voice trembled.

“Then how are you alive?”

The stranger's eyes became empty.

“I didn't survive.”

Michael stepped backward.

“Then what are you?”

The stranger looked at him.

“The part of me they couldn't kill.”

Suddenly, the black key became burning hot.

Michael dropped it.

A black symbol appeared on the floor.

The stranger immediately stepped away.

“No.”

“What?”

“You have to leave.”

Michael looked at the symbol.

“Why?”

The stranger's face filled with terror.

“Because the door isn't opening for me.”

Michael looked at him.

“Then who is it opening for?”

The stranger slowly pointed at Michael.

“You.”

The chamber went dark.

Two red eyes appeared in the darkness.

Michael couldn't move.

A deep voice whispered:

“You finally remember.”

Something cold touched the back of his neck.

Michael screamed.

And suddenly—

he remembered.

His first death.

Then everything went black.

---

Michael opened his eyes.

He was lying on the chamber floor.

The stranger was gone.

The photographs were gone.

The door was gone.

Only the black key remained.

Michael picked it up.

A message was carved into the wall.

FIND SARAH.

Then another line appeared.

SHE KNOWS WHY YOU WERE CHOSEN.

Michael stared at the words.

Footsteps came from behind him.

He slowly turned.

Sarah stood at the entrance.

She looked frightened.

“Michael,” she whispered.

He stared at her.

“Who are you?”

Sarah's eyes filled with tears.

“You're not supposed to remember yet.”

“Remember what?”

She stepped closer.

“The night you died.”

Michael's phone suddenly rang.

He looked at the screen.

The caller ID read:

MICHAEL.

Sarah's face turned pale.

“Don't answer.”

Michael stared at the phone.

“Why?”

Sarah whispered:

“Because the person calling you…”

The ringing stopped.

A message appeared.

I'M ALREADY OUTSIDE.

Michael slowly looked toward the doorway.

A figure stood in the darkness.

It had his face.

His voice whispered:

“Michael…”

Sarah grabbed his arm.

“Run.”

The lights went out.

And somewhere beneath the house, something laughed.