Ethereal Manor Novels & Stories

Andres was up early the next morning, preparing for the day. He had just arrived at Quaint Hotel and finished tidying up when Cohen burst in, pale and clutching at his phone. "Andres! Something terrible has happened!" Before Cohen could continue, Andres' phone rang. He held up a finger to silence him and answered the call. As he listened, his gaze shifted to Cohen's phone, where an image stopped him cold. The once-familiar pink Cullinan was now charred black, surrounded by the smoldering remains of Eterna Haven. Smoke billowed from the scene, and a stretcher held a body covered by a white sheet nearby.

That was why he had f*cked me from the back that day. He also liked to play with aphrodisiacs and scents. “Come with me.” I walked, without indulging him in the eye, down a small flight of steps leading to some rooms and opened the door to one of the vacant rooms. I easily told which one was vacant as there was no sound coming from it, nor was it locked. When I opened the door, the first thing that I noticed was how dark and red it was. It reminded me of Lenard’s prison. My chest tightened.

Elias floated through the empty halls, a whisper of a man who had once been vibrant and full of life. Now, he was nothing more than a ghost, trapped in a realm where time held no meaning. His existence had become an endless cycle, a haunting echo of what was once real. He could feel the weight of the walls pressing down on him, suffocating his spirit with every step he took. Nina’s laughter echoed through the corridors, a sinister melody that wrapped around him like a noose. “Elias,” she called, her voice sultry and inviting, “come play with us.”

As one, the eight spoke, voices overlapping like a single soul fractured across many throats. “We are those who are shackled. We are those who fight for others. Who condemns the wrong and restores the stolen light from this world. We are called –" From behind Rhett, there were heavy footsteps echoing from the balcony, and two figures stepped forward from the staircase above, forming from the balcony, backlit by moonlight bleeding through the cracked stained glass. One wore a long dark coat with silver trimmings, his hood low, face shadowed, and moved with the silent dignity of a ghost.