CHAPTER 37: Into The Fire

“Victor, wait!”

But he was already moving.

Straight through the smoke.

Straight toward the burning east wing while rain poured across the cliffs in violent silver sheets.

“Damn it,” Ethan muttered.

Then he ran after him.

Aria stared for half a second before instinct dragged her forward too.

Daniel caught her arm immediately.

“Absolutely not.”

“There’s someone inside!”

“There’s a collapsing mansion inside.”

Another scream echoed faintly through the storm.

Closer this time.

Female.

Pain-filled.

Aria felt her pulse spike violently.

“That’s her.”

Daniel swore under his breath.

The firefighters were shouting now, trying to force everyone back from the unstable section of the estate, but Victor had already disappeared through the smoke-covered entrance.

Ethan followed seconds behind him.

And somehow that frightened Aria even more.

Because Ethan never moved recklessly unless something truly mattered.

She pulled free from Daniel’s grip.

“I’m going.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Before he could stop her again, Aria ran toward the mansion.

Rain soaked her instantly while smoke clawed through the air around her.

The closer she got to Blackwater House, the stranger the feeling became.

Not fear.

Recognition.

Fragments of memory flickered violently now.

A marble staircase.

Soft piano music drifting through hallways.

Isabella laughing somewhere upstairs.

A woman whispering:

Never go into the lower rooms alone.

Aria stumbled slightly as the memory vanished.

The front entrance stood shattered from heat and age, flames crawling hungrily across the ceiling beams overhead.

Smoke choked the air.

Somewhere deeper inside the mansion, wood cracked loudly.

“Ethan!” she shouted.

No response.

Only the roar of fire.

Aria wrapped part of her soaked sleeve over her mouth and pushed further inside.

The heat hit immediately.

Thick.

Violent.

The once-grand entrance hall looked like a dying cathedral now, shadows and firelight twisting across ruined walls while rain poured through holes in the collapsing roof above.

Then suddenly another memory struck her.

Small hands gripping Isabella’s wrist while running down this same hallway.

Hidden laughter.

Footsteps behind them.

Fear.

Aria stopped breathing for a second.

This wasn’t just familiarity anymore.

She remembered this place.

Actually remembered it.

A crash thundered somewhere upstairs.

Then a voice cut through the smoke.

“Aria!”

Ethan.

Relief slammed through her instantly.

She followed the sound deeper into the mansion until she finally saw him near the remains of the east corridor.

Victor stood nearby, both men partially obscured by smoke and falling ash.

And between them—

A hidden door hung open behind a collapsed bookshelf.

Daniel reached her moments later, furious and breathless.

“I swear to God—”

He stopped when he saw the doorway.

“What is that?”

Victor answered without looking away from it.

“The lower level.”

The hidden staircase beyond the door disappeared into darkness beneath the estate.

Cold darkness.

Completely untouched by the fire above.

Aria’s stomach tightened.

A strange instinctive dread crept through her immediately.

As though some part of her already knew what waited below.

Ethan looked toward her sharply.

“You should be outside.”

“You say that every five minutes.”

“This isn’t a joke.”

“I know.”

The softness in her voice surprised even her.

Because beneath the fear, something else had appeared.

Determination.

She was done running from pieces of herself.

Victor grabbed a flashlight from one of the emergency responders nearby and moved toward the staircase.

Ethan blocked him instantly.

“You don’t go first.”

Victor’s gaze hardened.

“You think I’m afraid?”

“No,” Ethan replied coldly. “I think you’re desperate.”

The tension between them had become something dangerous now.

Old.

Personal.

Like years of hatred finally surfacing openly.

Another groan rippled through the mansion overhead.

The structure was weakening fast.

Daniel looked upward grimly.

“We don’t have long.”

Victor descended the staircase anyway.

Ethan swore quietly before following him.

Aria went next before either man could argue.

The underground corridor below felt impossibly cold compared to the burning mansion above.

Stone walls.

Narrow passageways.

The air smelled like dust, mildew… and something older.

Forgotten.

Flashlights cut through darkness while distant cracks echoed faintly overhead.

“What is this place?” Aria whispered.

Nobody answered immediately.

Then Victor finally said:

“My wife built it.”

Aria frowned slightly.

“For what?”

Victor’s voice lowered strangely.

“To hide things from me.”

Silence followed.

Even Ethan looked unsettled by that answer.

The corridor eventually opened into a large underground chamber lined with shelves, cabinets, and old storage trunks covered in dust.

A hidden archive.

Daniel swept his flashlight slowly across the room.

“This is insane.”

No one disagreed.

Aria moved carefully through the chamber while fragments of memory pressed harder against her mind now.

She knew this room.

Not fully.

But enough.

A small table near the corner.

A broken lantern.

A faded mural of crescent moons painted near the ceiling.

Then suddenly she stopped.

There.

Against the far wall.

A piano.

Old and dust-covered.

Her breathing caught sharply.

Another memory slammed into place.

Tiny fingers pressing piano keys while Isabella sat beside her laughing softly.

Wrong note again, Rory.

Aria staggered slightly.

Ethan reached for her immediately.

“What happened?”

Tears burned unexpectedly behind her eyes.

“I remember her.”

The room went still.

Victor stared at her intensely now.

“What do you remember?”

“She used to bring me down here.”

Her voice trembled.

“We played here.”

A dangerous emotion crossed Victor’s face.

Grief.

Real grief.

Before anyone could speak again, a noise echoed deeper in the chamber.

Not fire.

Not collapsing wood.

Footsteps.

Everyone froze instantly.

Ethan’s weapon appeared immediately.

Daniel turned toward the darkness sharply.

Another step echoed.

Slow.

Uneven.

Then from the shadows beyond the shelves, a woman’s voice emerged quietly:

“You shouldn’t have come back here.”