Chapter 2 The binding

The candlelight flickered as Aria traced the worn edges of her grandmother's journal, its fragile pages whispering secrets she wasn't sure she wanted to hear. Outside, the manor groaned and shifted in the night wind, the ancient walls seeming to breathe around her. Her fingers tightened around the iron key as if it were a lifeline-or a noose.

The manor was quiet now, except for the slow, steady ticking of the grandfather clock downstairs, its rhythm like a heartbeat echoing through the halls.

Aria slipped from her bed, careful not to wake the housekeeper or Aunt Miriam. The key felt heavier tonight, a dull warmth radiating through the leather cord against her skin. It was as if the key remembered her - or wanted her to remember.

She moved to the pantry door, now closed and ordinary in the dim light. But to Aria, it was anything but ordinary. She pulled the lighter from her pocket and flicked it to life, the flame trembling in her hand. She pushed open the door, heart hammering with a mixture of fear and something else-anticipation, maybe.

The cellar air was cold, damp, and smelled of earth and decay. The hidden passage yawned before her like a secret waiting to be uncovered.

With the lighter's flame casting long shadows on the stone walls, she stepped inside. The tunnel felt alive, humming beneath her feet, carrying the weight of centuries. The carved runes glowed faintly, pulsing softly in response to her presence.

Ahead stood the stone door.

Aria held up the key. The iron piece seemed to pulse in time with the runes, the vibrations coursing up her arm. She hesitated, breath caught in her throat.

The journal had warned her.

The Door chooses.

Slowly, she slid the key into a slot she hadn't noticed before, hidden among the ancient symbols. The runes flared bright blue, illuminating the tunnel like a beacon.

With a deep, grinding rumble, the door began to open.

Beyond it was not darkness, but a swirling mist-gray and cold, curling and alive like smoke trapped in a cage. Aria stepped forward, the air thickening with whispers that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.

A voice-her voice-echoed through the mist.

"Aria..."

She took another step. The mist wrapped around her ankles, cold as the grave, yet strangely familiar.

The floor beneath her shifted. Suddenly, she was no longer in the cellar but in a place between places: a dim corridor lined with mirrors reflecting impossible versions of herself-some young, some old, some with eyes that glowed like embers, others shadowed and hollow.

One mirror flickered, and the reflection smiled at her.

"Welcome," it said, voice like silk and smoke. "You've come far, Aria Blackwood. The Binding begins."

Aria's heart slammed in her chest. She wanted to run, but her feet were rooted.

The voice continued, "The Hollow stirs because of you. Because of your blood. The door does not simply open-it demands a choice."

A figure stepped out of the shadows-a woman with hair like silver flame and eyes like polished obsidian.

"Who are you?" Aria whispered.

"I am the Keeper of the Binding. The one who holds the threads that bind the Hollow to our world. And you-child of Blackwood-hold the key to its fate."

Aria's hand went to the iron key, warmth spreading through her fingers.

"Why me?"

The Keeper smiled, sad and sharp as a blade. "Because the Hollow calls to those who belong to it. Because the Binding cannot be undone without blood."

The mist thickened, swirling faster. The mirrors shattered with the sound of breaking glass, shards cutting through the air like frozen lightning.

"You must choose," the Keeper said, stepping closer. "Will you seal the Hollow once and for all? Or will you let it rise-and become its servant?"

Aria's breath caught. The weight of centuries, of bloodlines and curses, pressed down on her.

Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

"I choose... to end it."

The Keeper nodded, and the tunnel began to collapse into itself. The mirrors reformed, showing only one reflection: Aria, standing tall, key glowing fiercely against her chest.

The stone door slammed shut behind her.

Aria stumbled back into the cellar, the cold mist fading into damp stone and dust.

The key had stopped pulsing, but in her heart, something had shifted.

The Hollowway was no longer just a secret beneath Blackwood Manor.

It was her destiny.