The Thing Beneath Blackwood

The scream came from below them.

Not human.

Not spirit.

Something older.

The sound ripped through the manor floorboards like a living thing, low and enormous, vibrating through Eleanor’s ribs hard enough to steal her breath. Dust rained from the ceiling beams while every window in the kitchen burst outward at once.

Cold air flooded the house.

Alaric pulled Eleanor against his chest immediately.

“Do not leave my side.”

The command came sharp enough to cut.

Eleanor had heard that tone only twice before.

Once when a man threatened her in a crowded market.

And once when Alaric returned home covered in blood she knew wasn’t his.

The shadows around him had changed now.

Before, they obeyed him.

Now they seemed agitated.

Hungry.

The silver wards spinning around them flickered violently as another impact echoed from beneath the house.

Boom.

The floor trembled.

The creature Alaric had restrained was gone entirely. Not destroyed.

Escaped.

Which frightened Eleanor more.

Because spirits did not flee from prey.

They fled from predators.

And whatever had awakened beneath Blackwood Manor had terrified it.

Another deep groan rolled through the earth below.

Alaric’s jaw tightened.

“You know what that thing meant,” Eleanor whispered.

Not a question.

His silence answered her.

Fear crawled slowly up her spine.

The Hollow King remembers his son.

Alaric stepped away from her carefully, though one hand remained firmly at her waist as if he physically could not bring himself to let go completely.

“Eleanor.”

His voice lowered.

Dangerously calm.

“You need to go upstairs and lock the northern room.”

Her stomach dropped immediately.

“No.”

The word came faster than she intended.

Alaric’s eyes flashed silver.

“Now.”

“No,” she repeated, firmer this time. “You don’t get to send me away while something beneath our house calls you its son.”

The kitchen fell silent.

Even the storm outside seemed to pause.

For one brief moment, something unreadable crossed his face.

Not anger.

Worse.

Guilt.

Eleanor stared at him.

Gods.

“What are you not telling me?”

Another violent boom shook the manor.

This one directly beneath the kitchen floor.

The wood cracked sharply under their feet.

Alaric cursed under his breath and pulled her backward just as black fractures spread across the stone tiles like spiderwebs.

Something was trying to come up.

The shadows around Alaric lashed violently toward the cracks instinctively, holding them shut.

But barely.

Eleanor could feel it now too.

A presence beneath the house.

Ancient.

Immense.

Watching.

And somehow—

Familiar.

The realization made nausea twist in her stomach.

The marriage bond burned painfully between her and Alaric.

Not from fear.

Recognition.

“No…” she whispered.

Alaric closed his eyes briefly.

And that terrified her more than anything else had tonight.

Because Alaric never looked helpless.

Never.

Another scream erupted beneath the floorboards.

The cracks widened instantly.

Something black moved underneath them.

Not shadow.

Hands.

Hundreds of them.

Pressing upward beneath the stone.

Eleanor staggered backward in horror.

The hands clawed desperately against the underside of the floor like drowned bodies trapped beneath ice.

Then all at once—

They stopped moving.

Silence flooded the kitchen.

Every candle reignited simultaneously in pale blue flame.

And a voice echoed from below.

Deep.

Ancient.

Smiling.

“Alaric.”

The entire house bowed inward slightly.

Like Blackwood Manor itself feared the thing beneath it.

Alaric slowly stepped in front of Eleanor.

Shielding her completely.

The shadows around him darkened into something monstrous.

“Go back to sleep,” he said coldly.

A soft chuckle echoed beneath the house.

“You brought me a bride.”

Eleanor’s blood ran cold.

The blue flames flickered harder.

And slowly—

Very slowly—

Something began knocking from beneath the floor.

Three knocks.

Just like the front door.