Crimson Reckoning
Chapter 5
By: Mikolai
Downstairs, the frantic slap of sneakers echoed through a different kind of silence – the panicked, breathless kind. Zara stumbled, her hyena ears flattened against her skull, the ragged breaths tearing from her throat sounding suspiciously like a terrified laugh. Kael lumbered beside her, his bear-like bulk surprisingly quiet despite the sheer terror radiating off him. Behind them, the dragging sound resumed – a slow, grating scrape of something heavy across the dusty hallway floorboards. It wasn't the dragging sound Chloe had heard earlier. Nor the monster that Zara and Kael escape from an hour ago. This was slower, heavier, accompanied by a low, wet gurgling noise.

"Where is it?" Zara hissed, skidding around a corner into yet another dimly lit corridor lined with moth-eaten portraits. "Every damn door is locked!" She rattled a heavy oak handle desperately. Solid. Unyielding.

Kael slammed his massive shoulder against a nearby doorframe. Wood groaned but didn't splinter. "Stairs were right here!" he gasped, voice thick with panic. "Saw them when we came in!" But the space where the grand staircase should have descended was just another stretch of peeling wallpaper and shadow. The dragging sound echoed again, closer this time – a heavy, wet scrape punctuated by a low, bubbling groan. It wasn't behind them anymore. It seemed to come from the walls themselves.

Zara whimpered, pressing her back against Kael's broad frame. Her hyena ears twitched violently. "It's... laughing," she whispered, her own voice cracking into a hysterical giggle. "I hear it laughing!" The sound wasn't audible to Kael, just the relentless scrape-scrape and that awful, drowning gurgle. Dust drifted down from the ceiling like morbid snow.

Then the wall beside them exploded.

Not with sound, but with silent fury. Dust and ancient plaster erupted inward like a slow-motion avalanche. Framed portraits shattered against the floorboards. Through the gaping hole stepped Bartholomew. He wasn't just visible; he radiated malice like a furnace blast. The sheer, corrosive hatred pouring off his rhino-headed form was palpable, a physical pressure that made Zara scream and Kael stumble back a step. Dust motes swirled violently around his immense shoulders, catching the dim light like agitated fireflies. His eyes, deep-set and burning with cold, spectral fire, fixed on them. There was no curiosity there, only predatory focus. The dragging sound behind them ceased abruptly, replaced by a low, terrified whimper that seemed to seep from the walls themselves.

Kael instinctively shoved Zara behind him, his bear-like body tensing into a defensive crouch. "Run!" he roared, the command echoing uselessly in the dead-end corridor. But where? The walls seemed to shift, closing in. Bartholomew didn't charge. He took a single, deliberate step forward. The floorboards groaned under his spectral weight, buckling visibly. His horn, thick and deadly sharp, gleamed dully in the gloom. He tilted his massive head, studying them like specimens pinned to a board. The silence stretched, thick with the promise of agony. Zara’s terrified scream choked off, replaced by ragged, panicked breaths. She clutched Kael’s jacket, her knuckles white. The air crackled with spectral energy, raising the hairs on their arms. Bartholomew lifted a massive, clawed hand. Not to strike. To point. His thick, armored finger leveled directly at Zara’s chest. A low, guttural growl emanated from deep within his chest, vibrating the dust in the air. It wasn’t a word, but the intent was clear: “Mine.”

Zara screamed. Not a sound of fear this time, but pure, animalistic terror. She whirled, shoving Kael sideways with surprising strength, and bolted back down the corridor they’d just fled. Kael stumbled, recovered, and lunged after her. His heavy footsteps thudded against the rotting wood. Behind them, Bartholomew moved. Not the blurring speed of the other ghosts. He walked. A slow, deliberate, earth-shaking tread. Thoom. A pause. Thoom. Each step landed with the finality of a hammer blow, echoing impossibly loud in the confined space. He didn’t hurry. He didn’t need to. They were trapped rats, and he was the inexorable force closing in. The dragging sound started again behind Bartholomew, that wet, scraping groan, but it seemed distant now, irrelevant compared to the looming terror at their backs. Zara skidded around a corner, Kael close behind. Another hallway, identical to the last – peeling wallpaper, locked doors, oppressive shadows. Bartholomew rounded the corner, unhurried, his burning gaze never leaving them. *Thoom.*

"Left!" Kael bellowed, spotting a narrow archway half-hidden behind a tattered tapestry. Zara dove through it. Kael followed, crashing into her as they stumbled into a small, cluttered pantry. Shelves lined with dusty jars and crumbling sacks crowded the space. Kael slammed his shoulder against the heavy oak door. It groaned shut. He fumbled for a latch. Nothing. "Barricade it!" Zara gasped, scrambling backwards. They shoved a heavy wooden crate against the door, then another. Bartholomew’s footsteps stopped outside. Silence. Then, a low, grinding *thump* shook the doorframe. Dust rained from the ceiling. Another thump. The wood splintered around the hinges. Kael braced himself against the crates, muscles straining. Zara pressed herself into the farthest corner, her hyena ears flat, eyes wide and wild. The dragging sound was louder now, just outside the door, mingling with Bartholomew’s methodical assault. *Thump*. The top hinge snapped, metal shrieking. A massive, clawed hand curled around the edge of the buckling door. Bartholomew’s burning eye peered through the widening gap. His growl vibrated through the wood, through Kael’s bones: a promise of slow, crushing annihilation. Zara whimpered, the sound dissolving into choked, helpless giggles. Kael roared defiance, pushing uselessly against the inevitable. The door groaned inward.

Zara’s frantic gaze swept the cramped pantry. Dusty shelves. Crumbling sacks leaking grain. Cobwebs thick as shrouds. Bartholomew’s horn punched through the door beside Kael’s head, showering him with splinters. Then she saw it – a small, low door, almost invisible behind stacked sacks of bags near the back wall. Its outline was barely discernible in the gloom. "There!" she shrieked, pointing with a trembling finger. "Another door!" Kael risked a glance. Hope flared, desperate and brittle. Bartholomew’s shoulder slammed against the main door, buckling it further. The barricade crunched inward. "Go!" Kael roared, planting his feet wider, pouring every ounce of his bear-like strength into holding the disintegrating barrier. "Run! I'll be right behind you!" His voice was thick with terror and determination. He wouldn't last long holding the monster back.

Zara didn't hesitate. She scrambled over the sacks, tearing through cobwebs, her claws scrambling at the small door’s latch. It was stiff, rusted shut. She yanked, sobbing, putting her whole weight into it. Click. It gave. She threw her shoulder against it. The small door groaned open, revealing impenetrable darkness beyond. She dove through headfirst, tumbling onto cold stone steps. Behind her, the main door exploded inward with a deafening crash. Wood and crate fragments flew. Bartholomew’s immense silhouette filled the doorway, radiating pure malice. Kael stumbled back, raising his fists uselessly. The small pantry door slammed shut behind Zara with a final, echoing thud. Solid. Unyielding. Like it had never existed. She heard nothing from the pantry anymore. Only the frantic hammering of her own heart.

Kael barely registered the door vanishing. He spun back to face Bartholomew, roaring a challenge, muscles bunching for a futile charge. Before he could move, Bartholomew’s massive arm shot forward impossibly fast. Not a punch. Grasping. His huge, clawed hand closed around Kael’s entire head like a vise. Fingers like iron bands clamped over Kael’s skull, crushing his ears, digging into his scalp. Kael’s roar choked off into a wet, startled gurgle. His feet left the floor. He kicked wildly, paws scrabbling against empty air, utterly helpless.

Bartholomew didn't pause. He pivoted with terrifying ease, Kael dangling like a grotesque doll in his grip. With a contemptuous flick of his wrist, Bartholomew hurled Kael backwards through the ruined pantry doorway. Kael sailed through the gaping hole, limbs flailing. He crashed onto the hallway floorboards several feet away, the impact driving the breath from his lungs with a sickening whump. Dust exploded around him. He skidded several feet further, scraping skin raw through his torn shirt, finally slamming into the baseboard of the opposite wall. Pain lanced through his ribs, sharp and hot.

Before Kael could gasp, Bartholomew emerged from the pantry wreckage. The rhino ghost moved with unnerving silence now, his heavy tread absorbed by the shadows pooling beneath him. He stopped a few feet from Kael’s crumpled form. The dragging sound resumed, louder than ever – that wet, scraping groan – but it seemed to originate from Bartholomew’s own shadow, twisting and elongating unnaturally on the floorboards. Kael struggled to push himself up, vision swimming.

Bartholomew lunged. Not a blur, but a sudden, terrifying acceleration. One massive, clawed hand clamped around Kael’s shoulder, yanking him off the floor as easily as lifting a sack of grain. Kael roared, twisting violently, punching his free hand with desperate strength against Bartholomew’s armored forearm. The blows went right through the creature not hurting the rhino at all. Bartholomew didn’t flinch. Then, with a grunt of effort, Bartholomew slammed Kael face-first into the hallway wall.

Plaster exploded. Dust choked the air. Kael’s roar became a muffled scream. Bartholomew didn’t stop. He pressed Kael’s head hard against the ruined plaster and wood, pinning him effortlessly. Then, with a low growl that vibrated through the wall itself, Bartholomew ran. 

He drove forward, dragging Kael’s pinned face along the wall like a brutal paintbrush. The sound was horrific – a wet, grinding screech of flesh tearing and wood splintering. Kael’s legs are kicking wildly, uselessly. His muffled screams were lost beneath the grinding cacophony and Bartholomew’s heavy, relentless footfalls. Thoom-scrape-thoom-scrape-thoom-scrape.

They carved a jagged trench down the hallway. Blood smeared the exposed wood and plaster. Kael’s struggles weakened. Bartholomew halted abruptly at a sharp corner. He lifted Kael away from the wall just enough to pivot, then slammed him face-first into the new surface. Kael’s nose shattered against the wood paneling with a sickening crunch. Bartholomew resumed his dragging charge. Down the next corridor. Thoom-scrape-thoom-scrape. Blood flowed freely now, pooling in Kael’s eyes, soaking his torn shirt. He went limp, a ragdoll puppet held by an unstoppable force. Only ragged, wet gasps escaped his lips.

The ghost didn't stop until half the boy's face was gone. Bartholomew finally halted near the grand staircase landing. He released his grip. Kael slumped to the floorboards like discarded meat. His left side was a ruin: cheekbone exposed, jaw hanging loose, eye socket a mangled pit weeping blood and fluid. His right eye stared blankly upwards, uncomprehending. Bartholomew loomed over him, spectral breath misting the cold air. The dragging sound intensified, now clearly emanating from the deep shadows pooling beneath Bartholomew’s feet – a wet, sucking sound, like thick mud yielding. Bartholomew’s horn lowered. He leaned down, his immense head blocking the flickering light from a distant sconce. His burning gaze fixed on Kael’s remaining eye. A low, guttural sound vibrated from his chest, not a growl, but a word: "Mine." The shadows beneath Bartholomew surged upwards like black tar, engulfing Kael’s legs, pinning him as effectively as chains.

Kael’s single eye widened in dawning horror. Bartholomew’s clawed hand descended slowly, deliberately. It didn't grasp. It pressed. Thick fingers splayed over Kael’s ruined face, covering the exposed bone and torn flesh. Bartholomew leaned his immense weight forward. Kael’s skull groaned under the pressure. A wet, crunching pop echoed in the stillness. Bartholomew pressed harder. The skull flattened. Bone splintered inward. Brain matter oozed between Bartholomew’s fingers like crushed fruit, mingling with the blood already soaking the floorboards. Bartholomew held the pressure for a long moment, grinding the remains into the wood. Then he straightened. The shadows retreated, leaving Kael’s lower body untouched but his head a pulped, unrecognizable horror. Bartholomew stared down at his hand, dripping crimson and grey. He lifted it slowly towards his own face, inhaling deeply. The spectral fire in his eyes flared brighter. He turned his massive head, nostrils flaring, scenting the air.

He knew the girl got away. He saw her frantic dive through that hidden door, smelled her terror like ozone. But the scent lingered – sharp, acrid, threaded through the mansion’s decay. She was still inside these walls. Trapped. Like prey in a labyrinth. She would never escape. These stones knew her bloodline. They remembered. A low, satisfied rumble vibrated in his chest. The hunt wasn't over. It had merely begun. He inhaled again, tasting dust, blood, and the faint, electric tang of her panic. She was hiding. Trembling. Listening. Good. Let her hear the silence now. Let her wonder where he had gone. Let the dread coil tighter.

Bartholomew stepped back from Kael's ruined form. The shadows clinging to his hooves deepened, swirling like ink in water. They rose, swallowing his legs, his torso, his massive horned head. The spectral fire in his eyes dimmed, then winked out. Not a fade, but a sudden snuffing. One moment he loomed, colossal and terrible, radiating malice that thickened the air. The next, he was simply… gone. Vanished into the gloom he commanded. Only the cooling smear of Kael's remains and the settling dust marked his presence. The oppressive weight lifted abruptly, leaving the hallway eerily hollow. The dragging sound ceased entirely. Silence rushed in, thick and suffocating.