Johnny's arrival in Berlin was met with a thick fog that clung to the streets like an unwelcome shadow. The city felt ancient, even though modern life thrummed all around him. The towering spires and Gothic architecture of Saint Isaac High School loomed in the distance, its blackened stone walls almost blending into the darkened sky. He pulled his coat tighter around his body, feeling the chill of both the weather and the journey that had brought him here.
As he approached the grand iron gates of the school, they creaked open on their own, as if they had been waiting for him. The courtyard beyond was eerily quiet, the sound of his footsteps the only thing breaking the silence. He could feel eyes on him, though he saw no one. The windows of the ancient building seemed to watch him as he moved forward, swallowing his unease.
Saint Isaac High School wasn't an ordinary institution; Johnny could feel that much. Something about the place vibrated with an unsettling energy, as if it had its own pulse, its own life. And now, with the black diary burning a hole in his jacket pocket, he knew this was no longer just about his hallucinations or the trauma he had endured. This was something far more sinister.
He crossed the courtyard and entered the school through a massive wooden door that groaned as it opened. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of old paper and dust, the walls lined with portraits of long-dead figures whose eyes followed him down the narrow hallway. The shadows seemed to grow darker with every step, closing in on him.
At the end of the hallway, he reached a large oak door with a brass plaque reading: *Professor Ruso*.
Johnny hesitated for a moment before knocking. His heart pounded in his chest, the sound almost louder than his thoughts. A voice, low and gravelly, called from within, "Come in."
He pushed the door open to reveal a darkened office, lit only by the flicker of a single candle on the professor's desk. Behind the desk sat Professor Ruso, an imposing figure with graying hair slicked back and piercing eyes that seemed to see through Johnny the moment he entered the room. The professor's skin was pale, his fingers long and bony as they rested on the desk, beside the black diary that Johnny had found.
"You've arrived," Ruso said in a deep, resonant voice, his accent thick but unplaceable. He gestured to the chair in front of the desk. "Sit."
Johnny swallowed hard, his throat dry as he obeyed. His mind was racing, trying to piece together the madness that had led him here. The diary. The note. Shellie. And now, this man—this stranger who seemed to know everything before Johnny had even spoken.
"I have questions," Johnny began, his voice trembling slightly despite his efforts to remain calm.
"And I have answers," Professor Ruso said, leaning forward, his eyes gleaming in the candlelight. "But first, there are things you must know—truths about your family that have been kept from you."
Johnny's stomach clenched. He didn't want to hear about his family. He didn't care. All he wanted was to understand what the diary meant, to figure out if there was any way to save Shellie—or whatever it was that had led him to believe she could be saved.
"I'm not here for family drama," Johnny said, his voice harsher than he intended. "I just want to know about the diary."
Ruso raised an eyebrow, but there was no surprise in his expression, only a cold amusement. "Ah, but the diary is intricately tied to your family. You see, Johnny, your mother, Jennifer… she was never the woman you thought she was."
Johnny clenched his fists in his lap, trying to keep his composure. "What do you mean?"
"Jennifer married William for one thing," Ruso said, his voice dripping with contempt. "Money. She never loved him, never cared for him or for you and your sister. To her, you were both burdens, obstacles in the way of her plans. After William's death, she inherited everything, and now she's living a life of luxury, far from your misery. She's enjoying every last penny of his fortune while you rot away in madness."
The words hit Johnny like a sledgehammer, but they didn't break him the way Ruso seemed to expect. His mind reeled for a moment, flashes of his mother's distant behavior surfacing, the way she had abandoned them after his father's death, the coldness she had shown in her complete lack of contact.
But Johnny didn't care. Not anymore. Jennifer's betrayal meant nothing compared to the grief that had hollowed him out after losing Shellie. He had been chasing something far darker than family secrets. He was looking for answers that could explain the madness that had swallowed his life whole. The diary was the only thing that mattered now.
"I don't care," Johnny said, his voice low and firm. "Tell me about the diary."
Ruso studied him for a long moment, his sharp eyes narrowing. "You surprise me, Johnny," he said finally. "I expected more outrage, more pain. But no matter. The diary holds the key to everything you seek."
Johnny leaned forward, his heart pounding in his chest. "What do I have to do?"
A smile crept across Ruso's face, but it wasn't one of warmth or kindness. It was a smile that chilled Johnny to the bone. "You must perform a ritual," Ruso said, standing from his chair and walking around the desk. His footsteps echoed in the small room as he approached a large, ancient-looking book on a nearby shelf.
"A ritual?" Johnny repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. The word alone sent a shiver down his spine.
Ruso pulled the book from the shelf and opened it to a page marked with a faded red ribbon. He placed it on the desk in front of Johnny. The text was in a language Johnny didn't recognize, but the illustrations—dark, twisted symbols—filled him with a deep sense of dread.
"Yes," Ruso continued, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "The ritual is to summon *Valkorath*, the Holy Satan. He is no ordinary demon. He is the one who presides over the balance between life and death. A being of unimaginable power, Valkorath can grant a single wish to those who dare to invoke his name."
Johnny's pulse quickened. "A wish?" His thoughts spun wildly. Could this really be true? Could he wish for Shellie to come back? To undo all the horror that had unfolded in his life?
But Ruso's voice cut through his thoughts like a knife. "Be warned," the professor said, his tone dark and foreboding. "The ritual is dangerous, and the price of summoning Valkorath is steep. Once you invoke him, there is no turning back. You will be bound to his will."
Johnny stared at the book, at the strange symbols and the chilling words written in a language he couldn't comprehend. His heart raced with fear and desperation. This was what the diary had led him to—this was the key to saving Shellie.
But could he really do it? Could he summon a demon, make a deal with something so dark, so evil? And if he did, what would the cost be? What would Valkorath demand of him in return for granting his wish?
Johnny's mind was a storm of conflicting emotions. He felt sick to his stomach, his body trembling with the weight of the decision before him. Everything in him screamed to walk away, to leave this place and forget the madness that had brought him here. But the thought of Shellie, the thought of her being lost forever, gnawed at him like a disease.
"What will he ask for?" Johnny's voice was barely audible, his mouth dry as the question escaped his lips.
Ruso's eyes gleamed with a sinister light as he spoke. "The price, Johnny, is always blood. Blood is the currency of the damned, and Valkorath requires a sacrifice. But not just any sacrifice. The blood of the one closest to you."
Johnny's heart stopped. His mind went blank. The words echoed in his ears, *the blood of the one closest to you*. He felt like the ground had opened up beneath him, like he was falling into an endless abyss. Shellie had already paid that price once—could he do it again? Could he bring her back, only to offer her life again to this unholy being?
He couldn't breathe. The room seemed to close in around him, the candlelight flickering wildly, casting shadows that danced and writhed on the walls.
"Johnny," Ruso's voice was like a serpent's hiss, wrapping around his thoughts, poisoning his mind. "This is your only chance. The only way to save her. Think about it—one life for another. One soul for another. You can undo everything."
Johnny's head spun. His vision blurred. He wanted to scream, to run, but his legs wouldn't move. The weight of the decision crushed him, suffocating him.
"I… I don't know…" Johnny's voice was weak, trembling. His hands shook as he stared at the book, at the ritual that could change everything.
But was it worth it?
Ruso smiled again, that same cold, cruel smile that sent a chill down Johnny's spine. "Take your time, Johnny," he said softly. "But remember, time is running out. Valkorath does not wait forever."
Johnny stood abruptly, stumbling back from the desk. His chest heaved with ragged breaths, his heart pounding in his ears.
Will Johnny step in or out? If step in, then what? If step out, then what? Only the next chapter will tell us.