That Night

Chapter 8: The Secret Passage.

Mia’s pulse thundered in her ears as the room erupted into chaos. Guests murmured in frantic voices, some stepping away from the body, others demanding answers. But something else caught her attention.

Near the far wall, a single candle flickered oddly, its flame bending toward the massive bookshelf as if caught in a hidden draft.

Mia narrowed her eyes.

There shouldn’t be a breeze. The windows were sealed shut. The doors locked.

Her breath hitched as a realization struck her.

There was a space behind that bookshelf.

A passage.

Heart pounding, she took a slow step toward it, careful not to draw attention. With all eyes on the woman in crimson, no one noticed as she reached out and pressed against the heavy wood.

At first, nothing happened.

Then—

A soft click.

The bookshelf groaned as it shifted slightly. Dust cascaded from the edges as the wood creaked open just enough to reveal a narrow, dark passageway.

Mia inhaled sharply.

A hidden door.

She glanced back at the guests. No one had noticed yet.

This could be her chance.

With one final glance over her shoulder, she slipped inside, pulling the bookshelf shut behind her.

The Hidden Hallway

Darkness swallowed her whole.

The air inside the passage was thick, stale, untouched for years. The scent of aged wood and something faintly metallic filled her nose. She exhaled carefully, pressing a hand against the cool stone wall to steady herself.

A single lantern, its glass cracked, hung from a rusted metal bracket a few feet ahead. The dim glow barely illuminated the space, but it was enough.

Mia took a cautious step forward. Then another.

The passage was narrow, lined with crumbling brick. Dust clung to every surface, undisturbed—except for the faintest hint of footprints leading deeper inside.

She wasn’t the first to come this way.

The realization sent a chill down her spine.

Was this where the so-called “traitor” had gone?

Or had someone else used this passage before—someone who was never meant to be found?

Mia swallowed hard and kept moving.

The hallway twisted, turning sharply before opening into a small chamber. A wooden table stood at the center, its surface littered with faded papers and wax-sealed letters.

Mia’s fingers trembled as she reached for the nearest one. The edges were brittle, but the ink was still legible.

A single sentence stood out:

“The house remembers. The house chooses. And once chosen, there is no escape.”

Mia’s stomach clenched.

A creak echoed behind her.

She spun.

A shadow moved at the end of the passageway.

Someone else was here.

Mia’s breath caught as the candlelight flickered—revealing a silhouette stepping toward her.

Slow. Deliberate.

She had found the passage.

But she wasn’t alone.