Chapter 4
1058 Words
A Bride’s Nightmare
Liana couldn't sleep.
She lay in bed, staring at the dark ceiling, her mind replaying Damian’s warning over and over.
"Don’t go digging into things that don’t concern you."
The way he had said it—so calm, so controlled—sent chills down her spine.
He knew something.
And he didn’t want her finding out.
But it wasn’t just Damian she had to worry about.
Something else was lurking in this house. Watching her. Whispering to her.
The journal. The missing page. The faceless woman in the portrait.
Everything was connected.
And if she wanted to survive, she had to figure out how.
---
The Hand in the Mirror
The wind howled outside, rattling the glass of her bedroom windows. The fire in the hearth flickered weakly, casting eerie shadows along the walls.
Then—
A creak.
Liana’s eyes snapped toward the vanity mirror across the room.
Something had moved.
She sat up slowly, her heartbeat pounding in her ears.
The mirror reflected the empty room—her bed, the curtains swaying gently. But something felt off.
She swung her legs over the edge of the mattress, her bare feet touching the cold wooden floor. Carefully, she made her way toward the mirror, her breath shaky.
The closer she got, the heavier the air felt.
A whisper brushed against her ear.
"He will never let you go."
Liana froze.
The voice had come from inside the mirror.
Then, before she could react—
A pale hand shot out from the glass, fingers clawing toward her throat.
She screamed and stumbled backward, crashing into the dresser. The mirror shattered, sending shards raining to the floor.
The fire roared to life, the flames stretching toward the ceiling as if they were alive.
Liana scrambled away, her pulse hammering.
The air smelled of smoke and something rotten.
She wasn't alone.
Something was here.
And it wanted her gone.
Liana didn’t stay to find out if the spirit would return.
Heart racing, she threw on a robe and rushed out of the bedroom.
She needed to clear her mind, to think.
The west wing was silent as she crept down the corridor, the candle sconces flickering faintly against the dark wallpaper.
She made her way back to the library, her thoughts racing.
The journal had warned her.
The mirror had attacked her.
There had to be more to this house than she knew.
As she reached the end of the hallway, something caught her eye.
A c***k in the wooden paneling beside the bookshelf.
She stepped closer, running her fingers along the seam.
The wood felt loose.
Liana pushed.
A section of the wall gave way, revealing a hidden passage.
Cold air rushed out, carrying the scent of dust, mold, and something long forgotten.
Liana’s breath caught in her throat.
A hidden room.
What was Damian hiding?
---
The Room of the Forgotten
Liana stepped inside, her heart pounding.
The passage led to a small, candlelit chamber lined with old trunks, faded portraits, and stacks of yellowed documents.
A thick layer of dust covered everything, as if no one had been here for centuries.
She moved toward the nearest trunk, brushing off the cobwebs before flipping it open.
Inside were old photographs.
Women in elegant gowns. Dark eyes filled with secrets.
Liana flipped through them, a chill creeping up her spine.
These weren’t just random women.
They were brides.
Each one had been photographed in a wedding dress, standing in front of the Blackwood Manor.
And then—
Liana’s blood ran cold.
The last photograph was Eleanor Blackwood.
She was smiling. But her eyes were hollow.
And scrawled across the bottom of the photograph in smeared black ink were the words:
"I am still here."
Liana clutched the photo, her pulse hammering.
She had to confront Damian.
He was keeping secrets.
And she needed the truth.
She stormed back through the passage, retracing her steps through the dark halls of the mansion. The wind howled outside, shaking the windows as she approached Damian’s study.
She didn’t knock.
She threw the doors open.
Damian sat behind his massive mahogany desk, flipping through an old book. His silver eyes lifted to meet hers, unreadable.
"Liana," he said smoothly. "What are you doing awake at this hour?"
She threw the photograph onto his desk.
"Who is Eleanor Blackwood?" she demanded.
Damian’s gaze lowered to the image.
For the first time, she saw something flicker across his face.
Something almost like pain.
"I told you not to dig," he said quietly.
Liana's hands clenched. "She was your wife, wasn’t she?"
Silence.
She pressed forward. "What happened to her?"
Damian slowly shut the book he had been reading. He leaned back in his chair, studying her.
"You wouldn’t believe me if I told you."
"Try me."
He exhaled, running a hand through his dark hair.
Then, in a voice laced with something ancient, he said—
"I don’t age, Liana."
The room tilted.
Liana gripped the edge of the desk, feeling like she had stepped into a nightmare.
"That’s impossible."
Damian’s lips curled slightly. "Is it?"
Liana’s breath hitched.
He wasn’t lying.
She looked at the painting she had seen earlier—the Damian from 1892.
The same face. The same piercing silver eyes.
And the realization hit her like a stone.
Damian Blackwood wasn’t just cursed.
He was something else entirely.
Something not human.
---
A Deal with the Shadows
Liana’s mind spun.
She should be afraid.
She should run.
But instead, she whispered, "What are you?"
Damian’s gaze darkened. "A man who made a deal long ago."
A slow chill crept through her bones.
"A deal with who?"
His jaw clenched. "Something that doesn’t let go."
Liana’s fingers trembled.
Her mind flashed to the whispers in the mirror. The hand that had tried to pull her in.
She swallowed hard.
"What happens to your wives?" she whispered.
Damian’s expression turned haunted.
"I don’t know," he admitted. "They just… disappear."
The fire crackled.
Liana’s pulse roared in her ears.
And then—
A shadow moved in the corner of the room.
Damian’s head snapped toward it.
His silver eyes flashed. "It’s here."
Liana’s stomach dropped.
"The curse?" she whispered.
A low, inhuman whisper slithered through the air.
"You belong to us now."
The candles died.
And the room was swallowed in darkness.
- Writer
