Chapter 9: The Truth Revealed.
671 Words
Mia's breath came in short, shallow gasps as she pressed herself against the cold brick wall. The flickering lantern cast jagged shadows across the hidden chamber, illuminating the dust-covered floor and the eerie remnants of the past.
A single wooden table stood in the center, covered in scattered papers, wax-sealed letters, and faded documents. But it was the wall ahead that sent ice down her spine.
Photographs.
Dozens of them.
Each one tacked to the stone surface with rusted pins, their edges curled with age. Black-and-white images, sepia-toned portraits, some more recent, others decades old. Men in tuxedos, women in elegant gowns. All standing in the grand hall of Ravenwood Manor.
All marked Missing.
Mia’s stomach lurched.
She stepped closer, pulse hammering against her ribs. Some of the faces looked eerily familiar—people she had seen earlier in the night, mingling among the masked guests.
Her fingers trembled as she traced the ink scrawled beneath each photograph.
Eleanor Price, 1952—Missing
Thomas Blackwood, 1967—Missing
Isabelle Reed, 1983—Missing
Daniel Harper, 2001—Missing
The names stretched on and on. A timeline of disappearances, spanning decades.
A shudder ran through Mia as her gaze landed on the most recent photograph—one taken just days ago.
It was of a man in a silver fox mask.
The very same man who had welcomed her tonight.
Except beneath his picture, there was no name.
Only two words, hastily scribbled in dark ink:
The Host.
Mia stumbled back, her mind reeling.
This wasn’t just a party. It wasn’t some elaborate mystery game.
It was a trap.
And the people running it had done this before.
A soft creak echoed behind her.
Mia whipped around, heart leaping into her throat.
A shadow loomed in the passageway.
The dim lantern light caught the edge of a mask—sleek, silver, gleaming like a predator’s grin.
The Host.
Mia’s breath hitched.
He stepped forward, unhurried, his polished shoes clicking against the stone.
“You weren’t supposed to find this.” His voice was smooth, as if he were merely commenting on the weather.
Mia clenched her fists, forcing herself to stand tall. “Who are you?”
He tilted his head slightly. “Does it matter?”
Her pulse roared in her ears. “You’ve done this before.” She gestured at the wall, at the dozens of victims. “All of these people… you lured them here. You—”
“Chose them.” His tone was calm, as if stating a simple fact. “The house requires balance. A sacrifice.”
Mia shook her head. “That’s insane.”
“Is it?” He took another step forward. “Tell me, Mia—have you ever wondered why you were invited tonight?”
A chill ran through her.
She had.
She barely knew the person who had sent the invitation. It had arrived mysteriously, with no sender, only the elegant script promising an unforgettable evening.
She had thought it was a mistake.
Now she understood.
It was never a mistake.
She was chosen.
Just like the others.
Mia’s eyes darted around the chamber, searching for an escape. The passage was too narrow to run past him. The only other way out was—
She turned sharply, grabbing the nearest candleholder from the table and flinging it at the photographs.
The flame caught instantly.
Fire spread across the brittle paper, consuming the evidence of decades of disappearances. Smoke curled upward, filling the small space with the acrid scent of burning ink.
The Host’s calm demeanor cracked.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” he murmured.
Mia didn’t wait for his next move.
She lunged, shoving the table into his path, sending documents and candles scattering. Then she turned and ran, sprinting down the passage as fast as her legs would carry her.
Behind her, the fire roared to life.
The manor had kept its secrets for years.
Tonight, she would escape.
And she would make sure its horrors were never forgotten.
- Writer
