THE DEVIL'S CONSPIRACY Chapter 5: The First Death
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THE DEVIL'S CONSPIRACY
Chapter 5: The First Death
Michael opened his eyes.
He was lying on the cold floor.
The room was empty.
No Sarah.
No copy of himself.
No grandmother.
Only the photographs remained on the walls.
Michael slowly sat up.
His head hurt.
He couldn't remember how long he had been unconscious.
He touched his face.
Then his chest.
His heart was beating.
He was alive.
At least, he thought he was.
He stood and looked around.
The wooden door was still open.
Beyond it was the dark tunnel.
“Sarah?”
His voice sounded strange.
It echoed through the room.
No answer.
Michael pulled out his phone.
The screen was cracked, but it still worked.
There were no messages.
No signal.
Only one notification.
1 NEW VOICEMAIL.
He pressed play.
For several seconds, there was nothing.
Then he heard breathing.
His own breathing.
Michael frowned.
The recording continued.
Then his own voice whispered:
“Don't go downstairs.”
The message ended.
Michael stared at the phone.
He played it again.
This time, he noticed something underneath his voice.
A second voice.
Very faint.
A woman's voice.
Sarah.
“Michael… you already did.”
He dropped the phone.
Something moved behind him.
He turned quickly.
Nothing.
But one of the photographs had changed.
Michael stepped closer.
It was the photograph of his great-grandfather from 1954.
The people standing beside him were different.
There were now six.
The sixth person was Michael.
He stared at the photograph in disbelief.
Then he noticed something worse.
His great-grandfather wasn't looking at the camera.
He was looking directly at Michael.
And written beneath the photograph were three new words:
ONE MUST DIE.
Michael stepped backward.
The photograph fell from the wall.
Behind it was a small opening.
Inside the opening was an old metal box.
Michael pulled it out.
There was no lock.
Inside was a single piece of paper.
He unfolded it.
Only one sentence had been written on it.
THE FIRST DEATH WAS NOT YOURS.
Michael read it twice.
Then a sound came from the tunnel.
A woman crying.
“Sarah?”
He moved toward the door.
He stopped.
Something about the crying felt wrong.
He remembered what Sarah had told him.
Don't trust me.
Michael stayed where he was.
The crying stopped.
Then Sarah's voice whispered from the darkness.
“Michael, please.”
He closed his eyes.
“Where are you?”
No answer.
He opened his eyes.
A figure was standing at the end of the tunnel.
Sarah.
She looked exactly as she had before.
But something was different.
She wasn't moving.
Michael took one step forward.
“Sarah?”
Her head slowly turned.
Too far.
Farther than a human neck should turn.
Michael froze.
Sarah smiled.
Then the lights in the room came back on.
The tunnel was empty.
Michael's phone vibrated.
A message appeared.
YOU HAVE UNTIL MIDNIGHT.
He looked at the time.
11:47 PM.
Thirteen minutes.
Then another message arrived.
FIND THE FIRST BODY.
Michael looked toward the tunnel.
For the first time, he realized something.
There had been no bodies in the house.
No remains.
No evidence that anyone had ever died there.
If the first death wasn't his...
Whose was it?
He picked up the black key from the floor.
It was warm.
Almost like it had been held by someone moments earlier.
Michael walked into the tunnel.
Behind him, the wooden door slowly closed.
Before it completely shut, he heard a whisper.
Not from Sarah.
Not from his grandmother.
Not from Malachar.
A voice he had never heard before.
“Your family buried the first body where nobody would ever look.”
The door slammed.
Michael stood alone in the darkness.
Then something beneath his feet knocked three times.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Michael looked down.
The floor was moving.
And beneath the stone...
something knocked again.
Knock.
This time, Michael heard a voice from underneath.
His own voice.
“Help me.”
He stepped backward.
The voice whispered again.
“Michael…”
Then came the final words:
“I'm the first one.”
Michael stared at the floor.
He suddenly understood.
The first death hadn't happened twelve years ago.
It hadn't happened in 1954.
It had happened much earlier.
And somehow...
the dead man beneath the floor was him.
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