The air inside the abandoned mansion was thick with tension, shadows stretching across the crumbling walls like specters of the past.
Alaric's sharp eyes scanned the room, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his blade.
"There's someone here," he announced cautiously.
Salviana clutched his arm, her gaze darting around nervously. "Alaric," she whispered, the fear in her voice palpable.
He turned toward her, but before he could respond, his eyes locked on a figure crouching in the darkness, their movements deliberate yet eerie.
The person appeared to be kneeling, hands moving as if performing some sort of ritual.
"Who are you?" Alaric demanded, his voice firm as they stepped closer.
The mysterious figure, dressed in black from head to toe, jolted upright with a startled gasp, spinning around to face them.
Alaric and Salviana froze, their eyes widening in disbelief as recognition hit them like a tidal wave. "Jean?" they gasped in unison.
The young woman, pale and trembling, immediately dropped to her knees and bowed low before them. "Your Graces," she said, her voice quivering with fear and respect.
Alaric's gaze hardened as he scanned the room. "What are you doing here?"
Before Jean could answer, a deep, disembodied voice echoed through the hall, dripping with disdain. "No, what are you doing here, Alaric?"
Alaric stiffened, his expression darkening as he recognized the voice. "Lucius?"
The voice scoffed, seemingly amused. "Do you know another invisible presence that follows you around?"
Rolling his eyes, Alaric muttered, "I know no other ghost but you. Why did you bring Jean here?"
"Did you follow her?" Lucius's voice demanded, a hint of mockery in his tone.
"Why would I follow Miss Goliath?" Alaric snapped, glaring at the empty space where he assumed Lucius was lingering.
"Pumpkin, sit up. Let's continue this," Lucius said, ignoring Alaric's frustration.
Alaric scowled. "Lucius, answer me."
"This is my house!" Lucius bellowed suddenly, his voice rattling the walls.
Alaric reeled back slightly, his brow furrowing. "What?"
Salviana's fiery red hair swayed as she whipped her head toward the invisible presence. "This is your house?!" she screeched, her disbelief echoing through the ruined mansion.
Manni, who had been standing quietly to the side, finally spoke up, his voice a hushed whisper. "But this is your Grace's father's house." His wide eyes darted around, searching for the source of the voice. "Who—what—is the ghost?"
Jean remained on the floor, pale and silent, while Lucius's voice faltered. "I don't understand," he confessed.
"We came for his father—Alaric's actual father," Salviana clarified, her tone sharper now as she tried to piece together the chaos around her.
Lucius's voice wavered. "But… this place has to be mine. I was buried here."
A horrible realization began to dawn on Salviana. Her voice was barely a whisper as she asked, "He couldn't… he can't be your father, can he?"
Alaric's face darkened, his jaw clenching. "Lucius!" he growled, anger simmering beneath the surface. "Have you been playing me this whole time?"
"Alaric, I swear, I don't know or remember anything! I would never lie to you!" Lucius's voice was desperate now, pleading.
Alaric glared at the void. "You were there when I was born! Why were you there?"
"I felt summoned," Lucius shot back defensively.
Alaric's hand twitched toward his blade as frustration boiled over. "Summoned by what, Lucius? That stupid guilt you've always carried around?"
"Oh, Alaric, boy, I can't believe this—" Lucius began, but Alaric cut him off with a sharp command.
"No, shut up! You can't be my father. That's absurd!"
"I mean, I do feel old enough to be," Lucius retorted, his voice tinged with dry humor.
Alaric groaned, disgusted. "Lucius Drake!" he wailed, his voice filled with a mix of anger and incredulity.
"Stop arguing, both of you!" Salviana snapped, her voice firm as she stepped between them.
The ground beneath them rumbled suddenly, the walls creaking ominously as dust and debris began to rain down.
Lucius's voice took on a note of genuine fear. "Princess, don't agitate the ruins!"
Alaric looked around, his sharp gaze scanning the trembling building. "I don't think this has anything to do with her voice."
"The ritual!" Jean screamed, her voice cutting through the chaos as she finally regained her composure. She sat upright, her eyes wild.
Alaric's head snapped toward her. "You were performing a ritual?" he demanded.
"Can't you see the lines and the candles?" she shot back, gesturing to the intricate markings etched into the floor.
"But we crossed the line already," Salviana pointed out, her voice trembling.
Jean nodded grimly, her black hair whipping around her face. "I know. And I'm sorry to tell you this, but you're now a part of it."
"A part of what?" Salviana screeched, panic evident in her voice. "I don't want to die!"
"Silence, please! I need to continue," Jean countered, her voice steady despite the shaking ground.
Alaric glared down at her. "You're not even a witch."
"I have clear instructions in front of me," Jean retorted, her bravery shining through the fear.
"She knows what she's doing," Lucius said with uncharacteristic seriousness.
Jean whispered under her breath, trembling, "No, I don't," as she leaned closer to the markings, her hands moving quickly to complete the ritual.
The tension in the air grew heavier as the ground shook harder, the mansion itself seeming to hold its breath, waiting for the outcome of whatever dark force had been unleashed.
The air inside the decrepit chamber felt heavier, thick with anticipation and dust.
Salviana blinked, her fiery hair catching the faint light of the flickering candles. "You found the tomb?" she asked Jean, her voice edged with uncertainty.
"This is the tomb," Jean said confidently, though her tone betrayed a hint of doubt.
"This is just—" Alaric began, but Salviana cut him off, her emerald eyes narrowing.
"This isn't the tomb I saw," she insisted, her voice firm.
"We should search for it," Manni interjected, his enthusiasm for the arcane sparking to life