Ares moved with determined steps through the dark hallway, his heart still pounding with the rage flowing through his veins. The house was silent, the shadows of the empty rooms stretching like silent spectators of his path. He had decided not to enter through the front door, but there were other ways, more discreet, more secure.
He stopped in front of the kitchen, a route he knew would let him enter without being noticed. The door was well-known, used by the staff to carry supplies, never watched. He approached cautiously and tried the handle, but the door was locked. A flash of frustration crossed his face, and with a quick motion, he looked around the hallway, but there was no one in sight. His mind raced, searching for another solution.
"Locked," he muttered under his breath, a hint of irritation in his voice. His plan had just hit a snag, but it wouldn't be an obstacle. He knew the cellar was his only other option. The kitchen might come in handy later, but for now, he had to move forward.
After casting one last glance at the locked door, he turned and headed toward the stairs leading down to the basement, where the cellar awaited. Every step seemed amplified in the silence of the house. Every shadow, every sound seemed more menacing in the rainy night.
He reached the basement, where he knew he could enter without being seen.
He took the key ring that had always belonged to the butler and approached the door. To his surprise, it was already open. His eyes narrowed as he wondered if someone was inside.
Opening the door, he descended the stairs with small, cautious steps, making as little noise as possible. The air was cold and damp, with the sharp scent of aged wine that for a moment made his head spin. Suddenly, he heard noises coming from the darkest corner of the cellar. Ares quickly hid behind a shaky shelf full of wine bottles.
"Are you sure no one will notice?" a low, nervous voice broke the silence.
"Relax," answered another voice, casual and dismissive. "I've worked here for ten years and steal a bottle every night. The master knows all the night guards take something, but as long as we don't overdo it, he turns a blind eye."
Ares remained still behind the shelf, holding his breath. His heart beat so loudly he feared it would betray him. The two guards continued talking for a moment, then climbed the stairs and left the cellar, leaving only silence, broken by the sound of rain hitting outside.
When their footsteps faded, Ares stepped out of hiding. His body felt stiff, but his movements were steady. He approached the stairs leading to the storage room door. After leaving, he made his way to the staircase leading to the upper floor. Every step was slow, almost measured, accompanied by the constant rhythm of the rain.
He stopped in front of the room where, an hour earlier, the butler and Mr. Asteris had been talking. Hearing no sounds, he cautiously opened the door. The room was empty. Indifferently, Ares began searching the other rooms, one by one. He inspected seven of them without finding anyone.
Only one door remained at the end of the hall. It was slightly open, and a faint light filtered through the crack. Ares approached with uncertain steps, but his mind was resolute. "Looks like I've found them," he whispered, with a calmness surprising for an eight-year-old who had just learned of his mother's death, only an hour before.
Stopping in front of the door, he paused. The voices inside were indistinct, overlapping in a disordered rhythm. He moved closer, his breath heavy. Then, a sudden, screeching sound hit him, making him jump. He froze, mouth open, unable to fully grasp what he had just heard.