The wind howled through the thick trees of Beckton Isle, tugging at the cloaks of Raphael and his companions as they trekked through the dense forest. The rain had come suddenly, heavy sheets of water drenching them in moments. Raphael's sword, a long and flexible weapon strapped to his back, swayed with each step, the hilt digging into his shoulder uncomfortably. He wasn't one to complain—his friends could handle a minor discomfort—but something about this night felt off, like the island itself was holding its breath.
"I swear this rain might be cursed," Raphael muttered, pulling his cloak tighter around his shoulders. His eyes darted nervously around the darkened woods. There was a heaviness in the air, as if the trees themselves were watching.
Beside him, Luca kept his usual calm, his olive eyes scanning their surroundings with unnerving focus. "You're just spooked by the mist," he replied, not missing a beat. His voice was soft, but firm, a wizard's confidence that Raphael could never quite shake. "We'll make it to the village in no time."
But the village of Beckton felt like a distant memory now, swallowed up by the dense forest. The path was treacherous, the flickering lights of the distant manor a beacon on the horizon. It was their only hope.
Lucia, with her fiery red hair and freckles, moved ahead, her carefree laughter echoing through the trees. "It's not so bad! At least we have encountered no creatures!" Lucia said.
Raphael couldn't bring himself to agree. There were rumors—whispers that spoke of strange things within that manor. Vampires, they said. Creatures who dwelled in the shadows and did not welcome guests. But he trusted Atalia and the others. They had their reasons to find shelter, just as they had no choice but to keep moving..
"That place looks... ominous," Raphael murmured, glancing at Atalia. The smoke from her cigarette swirled around her face, her calm expression betraying none of the unease he felt.
"Exactly," Atalia replied with a grin, flicking ash onto the ground. "Ominous is better than wet and cold. You're too serious, Raphael. You worry too much. What's the worst that could happen?"
Raphael's eyes narrowed, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. "You know the stories."
"Stories are stories. Besides, what's an old mansion on an island if not an adventure?" She shrugged and started walking toward the manor, ignoring Raphael's hesitation.
The others followed quickly, clearly unfazed by the tales of bloodsuckers and cursed lands that Raphael couldn't shake from his thoughts. Even Luca, the ever-serene wizard, didn't seem concerned. They were used to the strange and dangerous.
"Come on," Lucia called back to Raphael with a grin. "You're not scared of a little old house, are you?"
"Not scared," Raphael muttered, pushing forward. "Just cautious."
The moment they stepped onto the estate's grounds, a shift in the air greeted them. It was thicker, denser—an unsettling presence that seemed to emanate from the walls of the manor itself. The stone structure loomed over them, its windows dark and uninviting. But they were too far in now to turn back.
"Let's just get inside," Luca suggested, his voice quiet.
As they reached the grand entrance, the heavy wooden doors creaked open before them, as if welcoming them into the shadows. Atalia stepped in first, her smile lingering as she turned to look at Raphael, mischief dancing in her eyes. "Told you it'd be fine."
With a last, hesitant glance at the thick mist swirling behind them, Raphael followed, his senses alert, the weight of the night pressing heavily on his shoulders. He couldn't shake the feeling that this place was more than it appeared.
And as the doors closed behind them, sealing them in with whatever lay inside, Raphael couldn't help but wonder if they had just stepped into something far darker than they could have imagined.