Ace's POV
"Phoenix! You okay?" I asked, voice urgent as I quickly looked him over.
He nodded, though his cheek had a thin cut bleeding down his jaw. "Yeah… I'm fine. But what the hell just happened?"
Before I could answer, the air around us shifted, thickening with a cold, suffocating pressure. The mansion seemed to warp, the faded walls turning pristine and freshly painted, the broken furniture mending itself as if rewinding through time. I swallowed hard, realizing that this wasn't just a vision. The spirits were trying to show us something—no, they were dragging us into a memory.
"Stay close," I whispered, gripping Phoenix's hand without a second thought.
The hall filled with faint echoes of laughter and conversation, distorted and haunting. I saw the silhouettes of people moving around as if the mansion were alive and well, hosting some grand gathering. A woman in a delicate gown passed through us like smoke, her face blurred and indistinct, but her voice echoed faintly—a soft, lilting melody.
Phoenix squeezed my hand. "They're showing us… the past?"
"Yeah," I muttered, cautiously stepping forward. "But why? What do they want us to see?"
Suddenly, the atmosphere darkened, and screams tore through the illusion like jagged knives. The laughter turned to cries of terror as gunshots echoed through the halls. I froze, my heart pounding as a figure stumbled past us—a young man clutching his bleeding side. He fell to the ground, gasping, and another shot rang out, silencing him for good.
"What the hell…?" I breathed, barely able to process it.
Phoenix trembled beside me, his grip tightening around my hand. "Ace… this doesn't make sense. The father was supposed to kill them all, right? But… that guy wasn't the father."
I furrowed my brows, watching as another figure—a woman this time—ran past, only to be caught by a shadowed man who ruthlessly stabbed her before discarding her like trash. The shadow moved on, dragging a bloodied axe behind him, and the illusion flickered like a distorted film reel.
"This wasn't just one person…" I whispered, realization hitting me. "There were multiple killers."
Phoenix looked up at me, his face pale and strained. "But why cover it up and blame it all on the father? It doesn't add up."
My mind raced, piecing together the fragments of the scene. "Unless… someone wanted to protect the real culprits. Maybe the father found out something he shouldn't have, and they framed him to keep the truth buried."
The warped vision began to fade, the mansion returning to its decayed, broken state. I let out a shaky breath, still gripping Phoenix's hand like it was my lifeline. My injuries throbbed, but I couldn't focus on that. The truth was slipping through our fingers like sand, and we were just starting to uncover how deep the rot went.
Phoenix wiped at his cheek where blood had dripped, his expression conflicted. "If that vision was real, then… the father might not have been the monster everyone thought he was. Someone set him up."
"Exactly," I agreed, my mind reeling. "And whoever did it knew how to cover their tracks damn well. We're gonna have to dig deeper—way deeper."
Phoenix glanced around cautiously. "We need to get out of here before the spirits pull us into another memory. You're already bleeding too much."
I gave him a reassuring smile, even though my arms burned from the cuts. "You're worried about me? That's cute."
He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You're insufferable."
"But I'm right." I winked before nodding towards the exit. "Let's patch ourselves up and regroup. We're not done with this place, not by a long shot."
As we made our way out, I couldn't help but glance back at the mansion, feeling a strange sense of determination burn in my chest. Whoever was behind this tragedy wasn't just a monster—they were a manipulator who had hidden in the shadows for far too long. I wasn't going to rest until I exposed the truth and freed those trapped souls.
The little boy's words echoed in my mind, gnawing at my thoughts like a relentless parasite. "It was Father… hitting Mother…" That's what he'd said. I gritted my teeth, trying to make sense of it all. If the father really was hurting the mother, then why did that memory show multiple killers? Why did it seem like the father wasn't the real monster after all?