Nobody moved.
The footsteps had stopped.
The silence that followed felt heavier somehow.
As though the entire estate was listening.
Waiting.
Marco’s jaw tightened.
“Tell me I wasn’t the only one who heard that.”
“You weren’t,” Chiara answered quietly.
Her voice echoed through the hall.
Then faded.
The house swallowed the sound whole.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Nobody breathed.
Adriano kept his eyes fixed on the dark staircase.
The footsteps had sounded real.
Too real.
Yet there was nothing there.
Only shadows.
Only silence.
Only the feeling that someone had been standing just out of sight.
Watching.
Marco stepped forward first.
“We’re checking upstairs.”
Chiara glanced at him.
“Marco—”
“No.”
His tone left little room for argument.
“If someone’s in here, we’re finding them.”
He started toward the staircase.
After a moment, Chiara followed.
Adriano hesitated.
Then followed too.
The old steps creaked beneath their weight.
Dust lingered in the air.
The upper floor felt colder.
The corridor stretched ahead of them, lined with faded portraits and closed doors.
Moonlight slipped through broken windows, painting silver patches across the floor.
Everything looked untouched.
Frozen.
Like time had abandoned this place.
The door at the end of the hall remained open.
The same one they had heard.
The same one that should have been locked.
Marco reached it first.
Then pushed it wider.
The hinges groaned softly.
Inside—
Nothing.
Just an empty room.
Dust-covered furniture.
Broken shelves.
A cracked mirror leaning against the wall.
No footprints.
No signs of anyone.
No explanation.
Marco swore under his breath.
Chiara walked further inside.
Confused.
“There’s no one here.”
“There was someone,” Marco replied immediately.
“There had to be.”
But the room offered no answers.
Only silence.
Again.
Adriano stepped closer to the window.
Something about the room felt familiar.
Not enough to understand.
Just enough to ache.
His eyes drifted toward the far wall.
There.
Half-hidden beneath years of dust.
A symbol.
Small.
Almost invisible.
A black rose.
His chest tightened.
The moment his fingers brushed the carving—
FLASH.
Warm sunlight.
A garden.
Children laughing.
A woman’s voice.
Gentle.
Familiar.
“Remember this place.”
The vision vanished instantly.
Adriano stumbled back.
His hand was pulling away from the wall.
His heart is racing.
Chiara noticed immediately.
“Adriano?”
He looked up.
She was watching him again.
Not suspiciously.
Concerned.
Which somehow felt worse.
“I’m fine.”
The lie sounded weak even to him.
Chiara frowned slightly.
But didn’t push.
Not this time.
For a moment, neither looked away.
Then Marco cleared his throat loudly.
The spell broke instantly.
“We’re leaving.”
Neither argued.
The house had already given them enough questions for one night.
The journey back downstairs felt quieter.
Heavier.
Marco walked ahead.
Thinking.
Chiara followed behind him.
Thinking.
And Adriano—
Adriano couldn’t stop replaying those words.
Remember this place.
Remember this place.
Remember this place.
As if the estate itself was trying to force something awake inside him.
When they finally reached the courtyard, the night air felt warmer.
Safer.
Almost normal.
Almost.
Marco pushed through the gates first.
Chiara followed.
Adriano stepped through last.
The second he crossed the threshold—
The gates slammed shut behind them.
All three spun around.
The sound echoed across the courtyard.
Across the empty street.
Then silence returned.
The estate stood motionless.
Dark.
Watching.
The windows reflected nothing.
The vines hung still.
No movement.
No footsteps.
Nothing.
As though the house had fallen asleep again.
Marco stared for a long moment.
Then looked toward Adriano.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
Not accusing.
Not yet.
But the suspicion was there now.
Growing.
Whatever happened tonight—
Marco was certain of one thing.
Adriano Vitale was connected to it.
Somehow.
He simply didn’t know how.
Yet.
Without another word, Marco turned and walked away.
Chiara lingered.
Just for a moment.
Her gaze shifted between Adriano and the estate.
Then back to him.
“You don’t have to figure it out alone.”
Adriano blinked.
“What?”
“The dreams.”
Her voice softened.
“The questions.”
A small pause.
“Whatever this is.”
For the first time all night, he didn’t know what to say.
Chiara offered a faint smile.
Then stepped away.
Following Marco down the street.
Leaving Adriano standing beneath the moonlight.
Alone.
Almost.
As he turned to leave, something caught his attention.
A strange sensation against his palm.
He looked down.
There, just beneath the skin—
A faint black mark.
Shaped like a rose.
Adriano stared.
His pulse quickened.
Then, slowly—
The mark faded.
Until it disappeared completely.
As if it had never been there at all.
Far behind him, hidden within the darkness of the Veraldi estate—
A single candle lit itself.
And somewhere deep inside the house—
A voice whispered.
“Welcome home.”