Chapter 3
Lenore felt her throat go dry, her breath caught in a suffocating grip. Her body felt too heavy to react, a dead weight under her cold, clammy skin.
The beats continued. Always the same rhythm. Always followed by that creeping hum inside the walls, like something squirming under the wallpaper, moving along to the masked man's touch on the glass.
She waited. She counted the seconds, wishing it was just her imagination. That whoever was there would give up, sink into the darkness of the night and disappear.
But it didn't disappear.
The knocks persisted.
Rhythmic. Cold. Like claws tearing into her mind, one by one.
Lenore had no choice. She swallowed, forcing her lungs to work. Her body was still heavy, as if it had been buried in stone. But somehow, she managed to stand up.
Every step towards the window was a challenge. She kept telling herself that it wasn't fear. No, it wasn't fear. Just... anxiety.
After that conversation, she didn't know what to expect. But it couldn't be him. No, it couldn't. He was locked up. He'd said he was locked.
Thaddeus would never leave the barrier weak enough for anything to escape.
Or would he?
She got through. So what else could have gotten through?
When her eyes finally landed on the window, she froze.
Two figures.
Tall. Thin. Dressed head to toe in black.
Masks completely concealed their faces. Only their white hair was visible, combed to one side.
Identical.
Except for one detail.
The side to which the tops were turned.
Lenore didn't move.
The two of them stood there, motionless, like statues sculpted by the darkness. The glass between them seemed too thin, too fragile, as if it couldn't really separate them.
Then one of them tilted his head. The other did the same, but in the opposite direction, like a distorted reflection in a cracked mirror.
Lenore felt her stomach turn.
Something was wrong. It wasn't just the oppressive silence, it wasn't just the suffocating presence of these things.
It was the way they looked at her.
Even without eyes visible behind the masks, she knew she was being watched.
She knew she was being devoured.
The knocking had stopped. Now all that was left was the sound of the buzzing inside the walls, crawling like a parasite, pulsating to the same rhythm as her own rapid breathing.
She wanted to move away, to close the curtains and pretend that nothing was there. But something in their presence held her in place, as if an invisible weight were pulling her forward.
Then one of them raised his hand.
Lenore held her breath.
The fingers bent slowly, forming an almost casual gesture. A nod.
Not a call.
A greeting.
As if they already knew her. As if they were already expecting her.
And then the figure on the right pointed at her.
Slowly. Deliberately.
The gesture was clear, direct.
You.
Lenore felt something squirm inside her, as if her soul was shrinking, trying to escape.
And that's when they spoke.
The voice didn't come from outside, but from inside her head.
Low. Unison. Disconnected from time and space.
"He chose her, she doesn't look like much..."
And the glass... collapsed.
The sound of the glass breaking was not a dry crack, but a sigh. As if reality itself was exhaling its last breath before giving way.
Lenore stepped back, her heart hammering against her chest, but her feet seemed stuck to the ground. Sharp shards slid through the air like black petals, falling without haste, dissolving before they even touched the ground.
The two masked men were still there. Untouched. Untouchable.
They hadn't moved.
But they were closer.
Much closer.
The distance between them was now almost non-existent. Only a remnant of space separated Lenore from those distorted figures, and the air around them became dense, heavy, impregnated with a smell that shouldn't be there - warm, something old and forgotten, something long dead.
She wanted to run. She wanted to scream. But she knew that none of that would matter.
Because they were inside.
Inside the house. Inside the room.
Inside her.
A whisper dripped into her ear like an icy poison:
"He chose you. But will you survive it?"
One of them held out his hand.
Lenore blinked.
And everything fell apart.
The room, the house, the walls, the night.
She was somewhere else. A space without form, without color, where time dissolved like melted wax.
And in the middle of that nameless void, the two masked men were still there.
Waiting.
Even standing on a clothesline, Lenore felt a strong pressure of magic, black magic. Whoever these men were... they weren't normal.
For a moment, Lenore thought about doing something, but it would be useless. Even though she was a prodigy, she was still a child learning. Besides, if it was black magic, any attempt on her part would be in vain.
Black magic was forbidden for many reasons. It was dangerous, too powerful for an ordinary living being to bear. Well, all the more reason not to do anything against the men - they weren't normal for being able to do it and endure it for so long.
One of the men laughed.
"Don't judge her so much, Trauern. Even though she's only a child, Krähe wouldn't choose just anyone as her successor. He's too proud for that."
He approached Lenore, slowly and controlled. He walked around the girl as if she were the prey of a great predator. Even with the mask, his smile was obvious in his voice, which made Lenore uncomfortable. What was so funny?
"I don't know, Fröhlich, she doesn't seem like a good choice. Too young, too weak, too insecure... Apart from the fact that she's the daughter of that arrogant brat."
The other man spoke with disgust at the mention of Thaddeus. He was more serious, his voice too calm.
Lenore tried, but she couldn't move. The space around her was empty and immense, like an endless abyss. The sensation of floating aimlessly consumed her, and her mind slowly disintegrated, as if every thought had been erased by the silent, relentless pressure of those masked men.
They didn't speak, but their presence was more suffocating than any words. Their invisible eyes penetrated every bit of Lenore's soul, as if they were devouring her from the inside out. She could feel their icy fingers touching her being, touching her memories, her insecurities, every bit of her fragility.
“He chose her.” The voice came back, still there, resonating in her mind like a distant echo. "But do you know what it really means to be chosen? What does he expect of you?"
Lenore wanted to scream, but there was no sound. She wanted to move away, but her feet were frozen in the void, as if gravity itself had been nullified, leaving her suspended in a space that didn't exist.
The air around her became thicker, denser. A growing pressure, as if the void was being filled with something that shouldn't be there. Something impure. Something ancient.
The smell of hot iron increased, and she realized that it wasn't just the environment that was changing. Something inside her was also moving, twisting, awakening. Her body shuddered, a dull ache began to form in the depths of her bones.
She didn't know how, but she knew that this was the beginning. The beginning of something she could never fully understand. Something she could no longer ignore.
“You can't run away, child.” The voice was softer now, but with a sense of inevitability that made Lenore's stomach turn. “He chose you, but you still don't know who you really are.”
Before she could process the words, one of them moved, making a gesture that seemed simple, but its impact was devastating. The emptiness around her distorted, as if space were tearing apart, and Lenore felt a force pulling her, shaping her, as if she were a puppet being controlled by invisible wires.
She tried to resist, tried to scream, but her words wouldn't come out. Her body wouldn't respond. The only thing left was the sound of her accelerated breathing, echoing inside her own mind.
The masked men were moving, closer now, but Lenore felt a new strength welling up inside her. Something inside her that was beginning to understand what was happening, as if it was part of her nature to be one step ahead. If someone chose her and she couldn't falter, well, not in front of them, at least. They expected something from her, and it was familiar, the expectation of someone stronger than her.
“What do you want from me?” Lenore finally said, her voice firm and laden with something new, something she hadn't known she possessed until now.
The masked men were silent for a moment, but then one of them spoke, his voice filled with a strange satisfaction.
“What he expects from you... is only the beginning.”