House Of The Trembling Madness の小説・ストーリー

The man’s voice who had broken me out of my trance seemed to growl so loudly and with such power, the entire house I was stood inside of seemed to wobble and shake. Staring off to the door which was still wide open and led out into the street, I force my trembling body with the help of the wall down the corridor as fast as I could, my mind so consumed with all I’d seen that the entire world began to spin so quickly, I worried I’d land on the floor of this house before I could escape.

Bertha Mason had been a woman with no options, no voice, no path to freedom except through destruction. My body swayed as I staggered back to the bed, collapsing onto the thin, damp mattress. The ceiling spun above me, water stains twisting into grotesque shapes that seemed to watch me with hollow eyes. I closed my own eyes, preferring the darkness to those accusing stares. Sleep came in fragments, disjointed and shallow. Each time I drifted off, I was jolted awake by the house shifting above me—the creaks and groans of the old mansion stretching its bones. My heart began to synchronize with these sounds, as if the house and I were becoming one organism.

The smell was sour and thick, and my features were unrecognizable. My limbs were locked in a twisted position that made the stomach turn, and the inside of the fridge was streaked with rust-colored, dried blood. Nathan sat on the floor, shaking his head slowly, as if he were arguing with himself. "That's not her. That's not Sherry. It can't be her. She can't be dead!" He stared at my body for a long time—long enough that I lost track of how much time had passed. Then something shifted in his expression, hardening into a cold, thin smile.

Zela! My heart hammered like a furious drum against my ribs as I stared into the fiery abyss, the gruesome image of those burning forms searing itself into my mind. The world tilted violently on its axis, threatening to plunge me into an endless darkness. A cold sweat beaded on my forehead, despite the radiating heat. My hands clenched into fists, my nails digging into my palms, trying to ground myself against the rising tide of despair. The visual evidence contradicted everything my wolf had told me, everything my soul screamed. Was I going mad? Was this the madness that came with the death of a mate, even if I hadn't felt the severing?

The tension in the room grew palpable, each line of the pentacle bringing them closer to whatever dark forces awaited. As Tomoya connected the last line, the house trembled even more violently, dust cascading from the ceiling in ominous clouds. Each thud reverberated through the floors, mimicking the heartbeat of an unseen giant. Kathleen clutched the nearby shelf, her knuckles white with fear. Jay and Ruby huddled together, their eyes darting around the room as if expecting it to collapse at any moment. Amidst the chaos, Takumi's voice cut through, calm and commanding, urging them to focus.

Chapter One The phone buzzes against my ear, and I already know what's coming. Sally's voice cuts through the morning air like a knife through butter. "Dabe, are you sure you packed everything?" Her tone is sharp, worried. "Your passport? Ticket? Phone charger? You can be very forgetful sometimes. Check everything before you leave the house." I roll my suitcase across the hardwood floor, the wheels making that familiar grinding sound. "I have everything, Mom," I say, letting the sarcasm drip from my words like honey.

"Do you think I don’t want to scream? Do you think I don’t wish to have the truth ripped from me? But listen, fox…if I share what I know, the house will hear it. And if the house hears…” Suddenly, the void around them trembled as a low hum echoed through the darkness, sounding like locks clicking shut. The maid flinched and covered her ears. “It’s listening right now. It’s always listening.” Vincent snarled defiantly into the air. “Let it listen! I'll burn it all to the ground!” The hum grew deeper, resembling a growl of its own. The maid fell to her knees, gasping for breath. "You don't get it…you’re not just fighting him anymore. You're fighting the house itself."

“Who knew that this house had such a sadistic sense of humor?” “Desist, malevolent spirit!” Mischief howled. When the music died away, I sighed with relief, until the walls rushed us in a sudden blur that made my guts give a sickening lurch and twisted us around in a metallic whirlwind. I shrieked, clutching Mischief tighter, refusing to allow him to be dragged away from me in the chaos — protecting him, even if he was a mage because I was determined that nobody else would die in the House of Heights.

Clara’s head looks out the window, lost in her own thoughts, as she absentmindedly drew circles on his bare chest as they lay on their bed, sweaty and naked. “I heard the House of the Werewolves was not safe from the plague, either.” “Really?” His hands tangled her unruly hair. “It’s good to know it’s not only pestering our allies, but our enemies too.” “It must’ve already visited every House at this point,” she murmured. “I wonder what it is…and what instigated it to spread now. Of all times.” “You’re right. Its mastermind must know a huge turnover in history is about to happen soon,” he confidently remarks with a smirk. “Whatever it is, the Wizards’ Tower will get to the bottom of it soon

House of Terror Inside the house, the air was thick with damp rot and fear. Elias walked past the torn couch, into the back room. The door creaked open. The room was dimly lit by a single hanging bulb, buzzing like a dying fly. It reeked of sweat, mold, and fear. And scattered around the room were the girls. Seven of them. Huddled together. Thin. Terrified. Their eyes widened when the door burst open. Some backed into corners. Others began to cry.