Ellison followed the glowing symbols on the corridor walls, his flashlight now unnecessary. The faint blue light pulsed rhythmically, like the heartbeat of the mansion itself.
"Okay, glowing symbols? That's... new," he muttered into the camera, trying to maintain a veneer of humor to keep his fear at bay.
The red key in his pocket felt heavier with every step. He didn't dare look back; he didn't need another glimpse of those fleeting shadows.
The corridor led him to a massive iron door, just like the one he'd seen on the television screen earlier. Its surface was engraved with an intricate pattern of roses, vines, and thorns, similar to the puzzle box. The air around it was cold, sending chills up his spine.
Ellison pulled out the red key, holding it up to the camera. "Alright, here we go. Key number one. Let's see what's behind door number one."
The key slid into the lock smoothly, and with a heavy clunk, the door creaked open, revealing a room bathed in a dim, crimson light.
The space inside was vast and circular, with walls lined by towering bookcases that seemed to stretch infinitely upward. A single table sat in the center of the room, and on it was another note, handwritten in the same elegant script:
"Only the worthy will unlock the path. Knowledge is your light in the dark."
Beside the note was a stack of books, all with unmarked spines. Ellison tilted his head, filming the strange assortment. "This place just keeps getting weirder. What kind of mansion hides cryptic notes in glowing rooms?"
He picked up one of the books and flipped through it. The pages were filled with random words, disjointed phrases, and scrambled letters.
A low hum filled the room.
Ellison froze, his heart pounding. He turned to see the shadows again—this time more defined. They swirled along the edges of the room, almost human in shape, but with no faces, no features. They watched him, or at least it felt like they did.
"Okay," Ellison said, his voice shaky, "we're officially in horror movie territory now."
He turned back to the table, scanning the books and the note for a clue. His eyes landed on the phrase "Knowledge is your light in the dark." He aimed his flashlight at the books, hoping for something—anything—to make sense.
That's when he noticed it: faint symbols etched into the covers of the books, only visible under the beam of his flashlight.
"Of course," he whispered, picking up a book marked with a glowing triangle. He flipped to the first page and found a string of letters: T-R-U-S-T.
"What does that mean?" he muttered. Then, a memory surfaced—Kaylee's old scavenger hunt videos, where viewers had to find hidden messages in her livestreams. She often repeated the phrase: "Trust the process."
Ellison scanned the rest of the books, finding more symbols—circles, stars, and squares. Each one contained a word, but none of them seemed to make sense on their own.
As he pieced through the books, the shadows in the room grew restless, their forms flickering closer. Ellison's pulse quickened.
"Okay, okay, think, Ellison," he said, flipping pages faster. "Knowledge, light, trust... what am I missing?"
He grabbed the flashlight and swept it across the table. A subtle pattern appeared on its surface—lines and shapes matching the symbols on the books.
He placed the books with matching symbols onto the pattern. One by one, they clicked into place, the hum in the room growing louder with each correct placement.
The final book snapped into position, and the room shuddered. The crimson light shifted to a brilliant white, and the shadows recoiled, melting into the walls.
In the center of the table, a compartment opened, revealing a small, ornate key—this one silver, with a sapphire embedded in its handle.
Ellison picked it up, breathing heavily. "Another key. Fantastic. At this rate, I'll be the mansion's official locksmith."
But before he could pocket it, a low growl echoed through the room.
Ellison whipped around, shining his flashlight into the darkness. This time, the shadows didn't disappear—they loomed at the edges of the light, larger and more menacing than before.
"Time to go," Ellison muttered, grabbing the camera and running back to the iron door.
As he slammed the door shut behind him, the glowing symbols on the walls dimmed, leaving him in near-total darkness.
He leaned against the door, catching his breath. The silver key felt ice-cold in his hand. "What the heck have I gotten myself into?"
But deep down, he already knew—Kaylee's disappearance wasn't just a mystery. It was a trap.