Inheritance of Shadows

Chapter 4

The woman's amethyst eyes, though still holding a silent warning, softened slightly as Chloe settled on the bed. "My name is Lady Aubrey Whitethorn," she said, her voice a hushed, melodic whisper that seemed to fill the quiet room without disturbing its stillness. "And you, dear girl, are still within the confines of the Manor. Specifically, you are in my room."
She paused, her gaze sweeping over Chloe's face as if assessing her, making sure Chloe was truly listening. The implication was clear: Chloe was not just in a room, but her room, a place of personal significance. The perfume, Chloe now realized, was Lady Aubrey's own.

Chloe's mind latched onto Lady Aubrey's words, the immediate comfort of a name and a location quickly overshadowed by the gaping hole in her memory. The terror of the growl, the strange woman's presence – all of it was secondary to the terrifying blank slate of her own recent past.
"How... how did I get here?" Chloe whispered, her voice still a little hoarse, her grip tightening on the candle. "The last thing I remember... was a voice right behind me, and then I just... blacked out." Her eyes pleaded with Lady Aubrey for an explanation, the desperate need for answers overriding all other fears for a moment.
Lady Aubrey's serene expression clouded slightly, a flicker of something unreadable passing through her luminous eyes. She seemed to consider her words carefully, her gaze briefly flicking towards the closed door of the room before returning to Chloe. The silence in the house, profound and unsettling, made every whispered word seem amplified.

Lady Aubrey let out a soft sigh, her luminous eyes still holding Chloe's gaze. "It was my great-great-great-grandson," she whispered, her voice a fragile wisp of sound in the profound stillness of the room. "He... he was the one who brought you here."
She paused, a shadow passing over her serene features. "He lives in a cottage not too far from here. I went to get his help." The admission hung in the air, a fragmented piece of a much larger, more complex puzzle. The implication was clear: Chloe's blackout was linked to this "great-great-great-grandson," and Lady Aubrey had specifically sought him out, perhaps for Chloe's benefit.
The silence that followed was heavy, laden with unspoken questions. Chloe's mind raced, trying to connect the dots between the terrifying voice, her sudden unconsciousness, and this ancient, ethereal woman and her distant relative.

Chloe's brow furrowed, a cascade of new questions forming in her mind. "Why... why didn't he take me to his cottage then?" she pressed, looking up at Lady Aubrey. "Why bring me here? And... and why did I black out?"
Lady Aubrey's gaze softened, a hint of ancient sorrow in her amethyst eyes. "This room," she explained, her voice barely a whisper, "is the safest place on the whole of the property. There are wards here, old magic that keeps certain... influences... at bay." Her eyes flickered towards the door, a silent acknowledgment of the threat that still lurked beyond.
Chloe looked down at her hands, the flickering candlelight casting dancing shadows on her skin. The mention of the voice, the one that had plunged her into darkness, suddenly resurfaced with a chilling clarity. Her head snapped back up, her eyes wide with renewed fear. "The voice!" she exclaimed, her voice cracking slightly. "Before I blacked out... who was that? Who was speaking?"
Lady Aubrey's serene expression tightened, a subtle tension returning to her shoulders. She hesitated, her gaze once more flitting towards the closed door, as if the very mention of the voice could summon it. The silence in the room stretched, thick with unspoken warnings.

Lady Aubrey's gaze sharpened, her luminous eyes flickering with a complex emotion that Chloe couldn't quite decipher—a mix of caution and resignation. She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice further, as if even the walls might be listening.
"That, my dear," Lady Aubrey whispered, the floral scent around her suddenly feeling less comforting, "is the Lord of the house."
Chloe's breath hitched. The Lord of the house? Not a person, but the Lord. The words carried a weight, an ancient authority that sent a fresh wave of unease through her.
"He is very angry," Lady Aubrey continued, her voice grim, "and he does not like people to come into his domain. He is also the one growling, because he couldn't find you or me."
The revelation landed like a cold stone in Chloe's stomach. The terrifying growl, the voice that had caused her blackout, the entire terrifying ordeal—all traced back to this "Lord of the house." And he was actively searching for them.