"Here," Jamie said, handing Holz the armor. "Let's get into the mansion."

Holz accepted the armor, his hands trembling ever so slightly as he adjusted the gear.

Once fully equipped, he and Jamie made their way back toward the mansion's entrance. Meanwhile, Thomas worked on concealing the bodies and the new hole added to the garden.

Throughout the battle, Jay hovered silently above, his usually vibrant demeanor subdued. The ethereal cat often grew quiet in the aftermath of fighting. The gore of those scenes and the presence of death weighed on him, and this one was no exception.

"I'm going to have to pray a great deal in the coming days," Jay murmured. It was one of the few times Jamie got a more serious outlook on Jay.

With their tracks as hidden as they could manage, the trio regrouped at the mansion's entrance. As they approached, Jamie couldn't shake a growing sense of unease.

"We took too long. Made too much noise," he whispered to the others. "Yet there's no response. Not even a butler to greet us." His keen eyes scanned the windows and balconies.

Drawing his dagger, Jamie eased open the heavy door.

Stepping over the threshold, they found themselves in a grand foyer. The vast space was cloaked in shadows. No candles or lamps illuminated their path; the only light came from the faint sunlight filtering through the windows.

"Stay close," Jamie advised.

The first floor revealed a series of lavish rooms: a ballroom with a gleaming parquet floor and towering gold-framed mirrors, a dining hall adorned with tapestries, and a library whose shelves bowed under the weight of its books. Yet, each room had the same eerie emptiness.

Holz's unease grew with every step. "Where is everyone?" he whispered, his brow furrowed. "There should be servants, guards, someone."

"Maybe they left in a hurry," Thomas suggested, though he didn't sound convinced.

Jamie paused, his gaze sharp as he surveyed their surroundings. "Or they're hiding," he murmured.

Eventually, they reached the grand staircase leading to the upper levels. Jamie led the way upward, checking for danger around each corner.

The second floor was as labyrinthine as the first, with corridors branching off in multiple directions. However, it was clearly divided between the east and west wings.

Jamie hesitated briefly before remembering the west wing was the supposed forbidden area.

"This way," he signaled.

As he moved forward, Thomas suddenly reached out, gripping Jamie's shoulder to halt him.

The guard gestured toward one of the rooms on the eastern side of the corridor. Thomas used his hand to point to his ear and then to the door. 'He heard something?' Jamie wondered, following Thoma's gaze.

Without a word, Jamie motioned for Holz to position himself on one side of the door and for Thomas to take the other. Jamie pressed his ear gently against the door. The murmurs of the wind drifted through, accompanied by the faint creaking of a loose windowpane. But beneath those ordinary sounds was an unsettling groan.

Carefully, Jamie grasped the ornate brass doorknob, turning it with deliberate slowness to avoid even the slightest squeak. The door yielded, opening a fraction. He peered through the narrow gap, his eyes adjusting to the dimness within. What he saw made his heart jump.

Aligned along the room walls were bodies, rows of people standing eerily still. For a heartbeat, panic gripped him. 'Are they dead?' He pushed the door open wider and stepped inside, the others close behind.

The room appeared to be a small storage chamber with shelves and a solitary, half-open window that allowed a bit of sunlight to enter. But it was the walls that held their attention.

"My gods... Are they dead?" Holz whispered, his voice quivering as his gaze swept over the unmoving figures.

Jamie approached one of them cautiously. The man wore a gardener's attire. Jamie placed two fingers against the man's neck, feeling for a pulse. A faint, steady beat met his touch. He exhaled slowly. "No. They're alive... but..."

He trailed off, unable to find words to describe the scene. Around twenty individuals filled the room, each dressed differently: chefs, maids, butlers, and footmen. Yet none showed any sign of awareness. Their eyes were open, staring vacantly ahead, devoid of spark or recognition.

"What in the hell is this?" Thomas muttered, waving a hand in front of a maid's face. She didn't blink or flinch, her gaze fixed on some unseen point beyond the wall.

All of them stood facing the walls, their noses mere inches from the faded wallpaper, as if transfixed by an invisible force.

"Could it be some kind of magic?" Jamie wondered aloud, his mind racing through possibilities.

"Mind spells..." Jay whispered. The cat hovered near Jamie's shoulder. "This borders on dark magic. No, it is dark magic, especially used like this."

Jamie clenched his fists. 'What have we stumbled into?' He thought

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"We'll need to inform Maria," Jamie said, absentmindedly running a hand through his hair. "Lucius might have evaded past accusations, but something like this..."

Thomas and Holz nodded in agreement.

The trio prepared to retrace their steps back to the previous corridor. As they turned, Jamie's sharp gaze caught sight of a door partially obscured in the corner of the room.

"More people?" Jamie wondered aloud. He signaled for the others to stay alert as he approached the door. Gently, he pressed his ear against the door, listening for any sound within. Hearing nothing, he tested the handle. It gave way without resistance.

Opening the door just enough to peer inside. The faint sunlight spilled into the small space, illuminating the modest chamber. It appeared to be a simple bedroom, with a narrow bed against one wall, a battered wardrobe, and a worn nightstand.

Jamie tightened his grip on his dagger as he saw someone lying on the bed, motionless. His heart quickened. 'Was this another servant under some dark enchantment? Or perhaps a guard resting?'

Before he could take another step, the figure stirred. Slowly, the person raised their hands in a gesture of surrender but made no sound. There was no attempt to reach for a weapon, no cry to raise an alarm.

As Jamie stepped closer, the shadows retreated enough for him to make out the face. What he saw made his stomach churn, a wave of nausea threatening to overtake him.

Chained to the bed by iron shackles around his wrists and ankles was a man of slight build, clothed in tattered remnants of what might once have been a servant's attire. His skin was pallid, stretched over sharp cheekbones. Where his eyes should have been, there were only hollow sockets. A jagged scar marred the lower half of his face where his mouth should have been, the flesh crudely stitched closed. The man's chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, evidence that he was still among the living, though barely.

Jamie swallowed hard, a mixture of horror and pity welling within him. "A-are you... are you alright?" he managed to ask, his voice barely above a whisper. The question felt absurd even as he uttered it, but words failed him in the face of such brutality.

The bard was far from a saint. He had already killed hundreds if not thousands. However, his work was clean: he had a problem, he would remove it. Still, Jamie avoided prolonging suffering whenever possible, especially in a situation like this one.

The man shook his head slowly, a single tear tracing a path down his sunken cheek. Despite the absence of eyes, Jamie sensed a depth of agony and despair emanating from him.

Behind Jamie, Thomas and Holz stepped into the room, their reactions echoing his own. Thomas's jaw tightened. Holz covered his mouth with a trembling hand, his gaze darting between the captive and Jamie.

Jamie cleared his throat, striving to maintain composure. "Do you know what happened to the people in the other room?" he asked gently.

The man nodded, the movement slight but unmistakable.

"Do you know where the master of this house is?" Jamie continued.

A shudder passed through the man's frail body. He hesitated before shaking his head, a gesture tinged with fear.

"We're searching for someone who works here. A woman who has disappeared," Jamie explained. "Do you know where we might find her?"

The man appeared to contemplate the question. Then, slowly, he raised a trembling hand and pointed downward. He tapped his finger repeatedly against the side of the bed, emphasizing the direction.

"Downstairs?" Jamie interpreted. "On the first floor?"

The man shook his head and continued pointing downward, more insistently this time.

"Lower than the first floor..." Jamie mused. "Is there a basement? A sublevel beneath the mansion?"

The man nodded emphatically, relief evident in the urgency of his movements.

Jamie exchanged a meaningful glance with Thomas and Holz. "Thank you," he said sincerely, placing a hand over his heart. "We'll come back for you."

As he turned to leave, the man reached out swiftly, his bony fingers grasping Jamie's wrist with surprising strength. Jamie paused, meeting the man's sightless gaze. Though devoid of eyes, the depth of emotion conveyed was unmistakable; it was a warning.

Jamie understood. "Don't worry," he reassured him softly. "We're strong. We'll be careful."

As the three exited the room, they tried to remember anything about a basement.

"There wasn't anything on the first floor that led to a basement," Holz remarked, his brow furrowed with concern.

"Then it must be here," Jamie replied, determination gleaming in his eyes. "The west wing is forbidden, right? So that's where we'll go."

They navigated the winding corridors toward the western part of the second floor. Soon, they stood before a pair of grand double doors. The door yielded without protest. With weapons at the ready and senses heightened, they slipped inside.

The room revealed itself as a vast study or library, the ceilings soaring high above them. Shelves upon shelves lined the walls, crammed with countless books of all sizes. Scrolls and parchment lay scattered across polished wooden tables and the plush carpeted floor as if someone had been frantically searching through them.

Jamie couldn't help but marvel. "This place is incredible," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

He moved toward a grand desk at the center of the room. Stacks of books were piled haphazardly upon it, some open to pages filled with faded script and elaborate illustrations. Jamie picked up a hefty tome bound in rich, burgundy leather. The title, embossed in tarnished gold lettering, read:

"The History of Hafenstadt"

Setting it aside, he perused the next one:

"Legends and Lore of Kjarnheim"

And another:

"The Gods and Pantheon"

Each book seemed more enticing than the last. Jamie's fingers tingled with excitement. These could be invaluable for my collections and studies, he thought.

He glanced over his shoulder to ensure the others were keeping watch before carefully slipping a few volumes into his satchel.

"There's something here," Thomas called softly from across the room.

Jamie and Holz exchanged a glance before making their way to Thomas, crouched on the floor near one of the towering bookshelves. As Jamie approached, he noticed that Thomas was examining a section of the floor that appeared slightly different from the rest. The wood was a shade lighter and seemed less worn.

"What did you find?" Jamie asked, kneeling beside him.

"Listen," Thomas replied, tapping lightly on the floorboard. A hollow sound echoed in response.

Jamie raised an eyebrow. "There's empty space beneath."

He pressed his palm against the floor, feeling a subtle give. The boards here were more flexible, almost as if they were designed to move. Scanning the edges, he spotted faint scratches and scuff marks.

"Help me with this," Jamie instructed.

Together, they wedged their fingers into the narrow gap between the boards and heaved. At first, the panel resisted, but with a groan of protest, it began to shift. Inch by inch, they slid the heavy wooden plank aside.

Beneath the plank, there was a small entrance. A dark staircase that seemed to descend endlessly.

It was the entrance they had been looking for.

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