Mark opened his eyes to the all-too-familiar sight of the crumbling grandeur that is the mansion, an involuntary destination that haunts his dreams without warning.

  Fuck me, not again.

  The familiar, oppressive silence of the decaying mansion pressed down on him, the moonlight filtering through broken windows casting weird shadows across the dusty floor.

  He’d hoped for answers, for some clue to the meaning of these goddamn dreams, to the secrets this place held.

  But nothing.

  Just more questions, more creepy hallways, more portraits of people staring at him with those empty eyes.

  Strolling through the foyer, memories from his initial visit rushed back – the eerie rune that shimmered, the maze-like corridors, that weird-ass room filled with creepy items.

  Gone was the initial wonder.

  Now, a weary sense of déjà vu settled over him.

  Endless hallways, rooms falling apart, mysteries teasing him from the shadows – he’d seen it all before. And every time, it left him with more questions than answers, a gnawing irritation, and a bone-deep weariness.

  He walked the familiar paths, searching for anything he might have missed. The library, its shelves lined with ancient books. The dining hall, its long table set for a feast that had never happened. The observatory, its telescope pointed at a sky he couldn’t see. It was all the same.

  Nothing had changed.

  It’s like this place is playing games with me. At first, he embarked on these dreamy jaunts with a flicker of hope, thinking he could crack the mystery, that he could understand the connection between this place and him.

  But now? It was like hitting a brick wall with a neon sign saying “Game over.”

  “What the fuck do you want?” he shouted, his voice bouncing through the empty space.

  The silence of the mansion felt heavier after his outburst as if it was absorbing his frustration, feeding on it.

  Why am I even here? What am I supposed to do?

  He’d lost count of how many times he’d been pulled back here, each visit as involuntary, as bewildering, as the last. It felt like a never-ending cycle of confusion and frustration, and he couldn’t break free.

  The lack of guidance, the absence of any clear purpose, was seriously messing with his head.

  He gripped the talisman around his neck, the cool metal a stark contrast to the restless energy thrumming beneath his skin. Is this thing the key? Is it what’s dragging me back here?

  He was tired of this. Sick of wandering through these never-ending hallways, the rooms that felt like they were mocking him with their emptiness, and those darn cryptic hints that just didn’t amount to anything.

  Maybe there’s no answer. Maybe I’m just supposed to keep wandering these weird ass place.

  His gaze swept over the foyer one last time. The moonlight painted the scene in a ghostly glow. It was beautiful, haunting, but the beauty couldn’t mask the underlying sense of dread, the feeling of unseen eyes watching him.

  I’m being watched. The feeling was always there, a prickling sensation at the back of his neck, as if someone, or something, was right behind him.

  This place… it never made him feel like he was alone, not really.

  The air crackled with unseen energy, the whispers of the past clinging to the faded tapestries, the dusty furniture, the cracked portraits that seemed to follow him with their hollow eyes.

  The weight of their unseen scrutiny bore down on him, but his insatiable curiosity drove him forward, desperate for some semblance of understanding amidst the madness.

  He paused in front of a massive mirror, its surface fogged with time, his reflection a pale ghost in the dim light. He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit. I feel like I’m in a horror movie. The one dude who somehow makes it to the end, but he’s never really the same.

  For a split second, he caught a glimpse of movement behind him, a quick shadow in the reflection. Whipping around, heart racing, hands crackling, but there was nothing there.

  Damn it. His nerves were all over the place, the way this place seemed to toy with his sanity.

  He kept moving, that creepy sensation of eyes on him, a shadow he just couldn’t shake.

  It felt like they were playing a twisted game of cat and mouse, but he was clueless about his role in it.

  Room after room, he searched, desperately looking for anything that could give him a hint, a sign, or some solid lead.

  Moving from one doorway to the next, he felt his hope for a breakthrough fading. It hit him hard that, like all the times before, this visit could be a bust.

  Frustrated, he slammed his fist into the nearby wall, gritting his teeth against the sharp pain that shot up his arm. But damn, it felt good to let out some steam.

  “Story of my freaking life,” he growled, irritation simmering right under the skin.

  So many questions, so few answers.

  For thirteen long years, he’d been on a wild goose chase, trying to unravel the mystery behind his parents’ deaths. Following leads that turned into dead ends, trusting shady sources, it had been a rollercoaster of secrets and sketchy alliances.

  He’d bonded with Ria, discovered his own hidden abilities, faced down terrifying enemies, but the core questions remained unanswered, the puzzle pieces scattered, the picture incomplete.

  Sick of all the cloak-and-dagger crap, tired of being kept in the dark. He craved answers - needed them like air - but it seemed fate had other twisted plans for him.

  And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the dream began to unravel. The solid forms of the mansion – the towering columns, the sweeping staircases, the endless corridors – shimmered, their edges blurring, dissolving into a hazy mist, like a painting left out in the rain.

  He sighed, the sound a mix of resignation and disappointment.

  Another dead end.

  He was used to it by now, the familiar sting of unanswered questions, the fading hope of discovery. He’d walked these halls countless times, searching for truth, for some meaning in this endless cycle of dreams.

  But the mansion remained stubbornly silent, its secrets locked away, its mysteries deepening with each passing visit. He was no closer to understanding its purpose, its connection to him than he had been on his first journey into this strange, unsettling place.

  The mansion disappeared before his eyes, melting into a whirlwind of light and shadow that twisted his surroundings into a dizzying mix of colors.

  The place had a weird hold on him.

  The real question was: would it even make a difference?

  This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

  Will I ever find the answers I’m looking for?

  ▲▼▲—∞—▼▲▼

  “UGHH.”

  Mark groaned, his eyes fluttering open, his body heavy with exhaustion that sleep hadn’t touched. Damn that place.

  Every time he dreamt of that place, he woke up feeling like he’d run a marathon, his mind a jumbled mess, his body screaming for a week-long nap. He rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off the lingering fog, the echoes of crumbling hallways and whispering voices.

  Pale moonlight filtered through the tent’s fabric, casting everything in a soft bluish glow.

  He glanced down to see Ria sprawled on top of him, her naked body warm and comforting against his, her chestnut hair a tangled mess across his chest. Cute. He carefully disentangled himself from her sleeping form, his movements slow and deliberate, not wanting to wake her.

  Slipping on a t-shirt and pants, Mark ducked out of the tent into the crisp night air.

  He took a deep breath, the cool air filling his lungs, clearing his head, grounding him in the present. Much better.

  The forest was silent, the trees standing tall and dark against the star-studded sky, the only sound was the gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze. The air was crisp and clean, carrying the scent of pine needles and damp earth.

  Four months.

  Four long months had slipped by since the showdown at the mansion, bringing with them a surprising stretch of peace and quiet.

  College was busy, but manageable, his days filled with classes, study sessions, and the occasional night out with friends – a semblance of normalcy that had surprised him. He’d half-expected everything to come crashing down on them, but so far, things had been surprisingly calm.

  Crescent had remained ominously quiet. Ria has been handling her responsibilities there, dealing with her people in her own way. He trusted her strength, her ability to navigate the intricate web of coven alliances and feuds.

  This camping trip had been in the works for weeks, a much-needed escape from their hectic schedules. They’d finally managed to sync their calendars, a rare opportunity for them to disconnect, to recharge, to just… be.

  Life had settled into a comfortable routine, the chaos of those first few weeks fading into a distant memory.

  Except for the mansion. That damn place kept popping up in his dreams. What does it want from me?

  He gazed up at the night sky, the stars a million pinpricks of light against the velvet darkness. His thoughts drifted to the book Julian had given him, the young mage’s story a disturbing echo of his own struggles.

  The guy had been brilliant, determined, and reckless, much like the night sky itself—beautiful and vast but hiding dangers in its depths.

  For all the mage’s power, all the promises of understanding magic’s mysteries, it had led only to ruin.

  The experiments on pregnant women, the plagues, the rituals… Jesus, that shit was messed up.

  But it wasn’t just the mage’s failures that haunted him. It was also his moments of clarity, the glimpses of regret, the desperate desire to make amends, to find some way to atone for the devastation he’d caused. He knew he’d fucked up. Just didn’t know how to fix it.

  Mark understood the guy’s initial drive, the allure of forbidden knowledge, the thrill of pushing the limits. But the cost, the sheer scale of the suffering he’d caused, it was a heavy price to pay. Did he find redemption? Or did he just… give up?

  He found himself thinking about training with Julian, amazed at how far he’d come —using his blades felt like second nature now, moving them around with a skill he never thought possible or how much potency of lightning increased. Definitely leveling up.

  Yet, this growth has not come without its challenges.

  The duality of his powers, the mage, and the void, still felt… separate.

  It was like trying to play two different instruments at the same time, the melodies clashing, the rhythms conflicting.

  He could wield lightning with the raw power inherited from his father, and he could manipulate the void with the subtle control inherited from his mother, but combining the two, merging those opposing forces into a harmonious whole, remained elusive. It’s like they’re fighting each other, vying for dominance.

  His temper flared, sharp and sudden, and Mark took a deep breath to calm himself. Lately, the anger came too easily, like sparks waiting for kindling.

  It has been bothering him for some time now. How…. off he’d been feeling.

  He’d noticed it first after those weird mansion dreams, a growing restlessness, an urge to lash out. Then it started creeping into his waking hours.

  Some asshole cut him off in traffic, and he’d felt a surge of rage, a desire to chase the guy down and… well, he wasn’t sure what he would have done, but it definitely wasn’t pretty. He’d snapped at a barista for getting his coffee order wrong, his voice sharper, colder, than he’d intended. He’d even found himself getting into a near-shouting match with Ron over a misplaced video game controller.

  He wasn’t sure if it was the stress of his training, the pressure of keeping his powers a secret, or just… him. Maybe I’m overthinking it. He’d always been a bit of a loner, more comfortable in the shadows than in the spotlight. Maybe this was just him coming out of his shell.

  The breeze stirred the branches, pulling his gaze back to the forest. The stars above were bright, but the shadows between the trees seemed darker than they should.

  It’s probably nothing.

  Yet that niggling doubt just wouldn’t quit, lurking like a sneaky thief in his thoughts, always there to bug him that something wasn’t quite right.

  He was lost in thought, his mind a jumble of mansion nightmares, cryptic runes, and that unsettling feeling of… wrongness, when a warmth enveloped him from behind. A soft sigh tickled his ear, and the familiar scent of Ria’s perfume filled his senses.

  “Can’t sleep?”

  “Too much on my mind.”

  “You could have woken me up,” she murmured sleepily, nuzzling her head against his back. “I’m always up for some late-night cuddles.”

  Facing her, he noticed the sheet twisted around her hips, the moonlight casting a soft glow on her body. Man, she’s stunning. Just seeing her calmed his mind.

  “You seemed pretty… out of it.”

  “Well, you did kind of go full throttle on me earlier,” she grinned, rubbing his chest.

  “Hey, you jumped me the second we got the tent up.”

  “Just christening our campsite,” Ria’s grin widened. “Besides, when do I get to fuck you under the stars?”

  Mark’s hand snaked around her waist, pulling her closer. “I’m beginning to think you’re quite the exhibitionist.”

  “Just enjoying nature. And you. You’re a pretty tempting view.”

  “Oh, I’m the view now?”

  “Always.”

  He laughed and pulled her close, their lips crashing together, his tongue plunging deep, tangling with hers, the taste of her making him groan. His hands roamed her body, savoring the feel of her soft skin, the curve of her hips, the firmness of her ass - squeezing it hard.

  “Mmmmmmpphhh…”

  She moaned against his lips, her hands wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer.

  They kissed, slow and deep, then hot and urgent, their bodies tangled, skin on skin.

  He couldn’t get enough of her, of the way she made him feel, the way she melted into him.

  He moved to her neck, his lips trailing across her sensitive skin, leaving a trail of hot kisses. Ria tilted her head back, granting him access, a soft moan escaping her lips. He nipped at her earlobe, his teeth gently grazing the delicate flesh.

  “Mmm… babbyyy…”

  He noticed a bruise on her neck, a dark mark that stood out against her pale skin. Damn, I was rough. He wasn’t usually one for hickeys, but seeing that mark, that physical reminder of his possession, it was kinda… hot. He lavished attention on it, his tongue tracing its outline, sucking gently.

  She pulled away, her breath ragged and her cheeks flushed.

  “Same dream again?”

  “Yeah,” Mark sighed, his excitement fading, replaced by a familiar sense of unease.

  “Tell me,” she snuggled closer, her head on his chest.

  He held her tight, recounting the familiar details – the endless corridors, creepy portraits, the feeling of being watched. The same old shit, no new clues, no answers.

  “I wish I could help.”

  “You do help, just by being here. More than you know.”

  She’s been amazing. He thought about everything they’d been through, the fights, the training, his freakouts, the lingering fear and uncertainty.

  She’d been his rock.

  Whenever he felt like he was losing it, she was there, with a smile, a comforting hug, or a mind-blowing fuck that made him forget everything else. I’m so fucking addicted. He craved her constantly, her touch, her taste, her scent, an addiction that burned in his veins. It was like a hunger that no amount of sex could fully satisfy.

  They held each other tight, finding comfort in the simple closeness.

  Ria yawned, her eyes fluttering closed.

  “Go to sleep,” he murmured, kissing her forehead. “I’ll be in soon.”

  She nodded drowsily, letting the bedsheet tumble carelessly from her body.

  His eyes followed her as she sauntered away, the sheets clinging to every delicious curve. The gentle sway of her hips caused her round, firm buttocks to ripple and jiggle, a playful tease that made Mark’s cock twitch.

  She glanced back over her shoulder, winking. “Don’t take too long, handsome. I might just have another surprise waiting for you.”

  And then she was gone, disappearing into the tent.

  This girl. He chuckled, shaking his head. She was a firecracker, bold and unapologetic. He loved her boldness, her confidence, the way she never backed down from a challenge.

  He gazed up at the stunning sky, stars twinkling like a gazillion tiny bulbs. Yet, all that beauty couldn’t calm the unease brewing in his gut.

  What if something happens to her? To Lida? His mind went to dark places - attacks, betrayals, bloodshed. It was like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  I’m being paranoid. He knew it was irrational, but still couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was coming. He was used to dealing with real threats, shit he could punch or zap with lightning. But this… this was different.

  A shapeless fear, gnawing at him.

  He tried to push the thoughts away, to focus on the positive - his relationship, the progress he’d made with his training, the relative peace of the past few months. But the darkness lingered, a persistent shadow at the edge of his vision, whispering doubts, fueling his anxieties.

  A soft rustle broke through the night’s stillness, pulling Mark’s gaze toward the shadows. For a moment, he thought he saw something—a glimmer of light, a faint outline—but when he blinked, it was gone.

  He frowned, his fingers brushing the talisman at his neck. Like the mage, he sought answers. But unlike the mage, he couldn’t afford to let his questions lead him astray.

  Inhaling sharply, the night breeze offered no solace to his racing thoughts. It’s just stress. It’ll pass. Yet, lurking within him, a tiny voice kept nagging: What if it doesn’t?