The first time Elias heard the voice, he was standing alone in the library of his crumbling ancestral home. It came not as a whisper or a faint echo but a clear and commanding tone that sent shivers down his spine.
"Do you hear me, Elias? The bloodline calls."
He froze, the yellowed pages of an old ledger trembling in his hands. The voice was deep and guttural, rich with an accent he couldn’t place, a mix of old Dutch and something harsher, darker. His throat was dry as he muttered, “Who are you?”
The reply came instantly, as though the voice had been waiting centuries to speak.
"I am your ancestor, Pieter Van Drak. The sins of our bloodline seek reckoning. You will finish what I began."
Elias had grown up hearing the whispered tales about Pieter, a 17th-century merchant who turned to darker pursuits after his ventures failed. The Van Draks had always been wealthy, but it was said Pieter had made a deal with forces no man should ever summon, sacrificing his own soul for prosperity. The curse, they said, had poisoned every generation since.
Now, standing amidst the damp rot and faded grandeur of the family estate, Elias felt the weight of that curse settling on his shoulders.
The voice spoke again, filling the room as if the shadows themselves had grown mouths.
"You must reclaim what I lost. The book of shadows. It lies buried beneath the ruins of Saint Aldric’s Chapel. Bring it to me."
Elias wanted to refuse, to scream at the phantom to leave him alone. But the air around him grew heavy, choking him until he could only nod. The voice faded, leaving behind the faint scent of burnt wood.
That night, Elias packed a lantern, a crowbar, and a revolver. The ruins of Saint Aldric’s Chapel lay deep within the woods, abandoned for centuries. Local legends spoke of strange lights and guttural chants emanating from the area, keeping even the bravest at bay.
As Elias approached the ruins, the forest seemed to grow colder. Shadows twisted unnaturally, and the trees whispered secrets in a language he couldn’t understand.
"Hurry, Elias," the voice urged, now softer, almost coaxing.
He found the chapel’s skeletal remains, a crumbled arch, moss-covered stones, and an altar cracked in two. Beneath the altar was loose earth, and with trembling hands, Elias began to dig.
It didn’t take long to uncover the object: a black, leather-bound tome that seemed to pulse like a living thing. As his fingers brushed its surface, Elias felt a jolt of energy surge through him. The voice of Pieter roared in approval.
"Good. Open it."
Elias hesitated. The air around him grew thick with the scent of sulfur, and the shadows at the edge of the forest began to move. Shapes emerged. Grotesque, twisted figures with glowing red eyes and razor-sharp claws.
"They come to take it. Fight them, Elias. Fight for your bloodline!"
The first creature lunged, its claw narrowly missing Elias’s face. Instinct took over, and he raised the crowbar, smashing it against the beast’s head. It screeched, its body dissolving into a cloud of ash.
More came. Silent, fast, relentless. Elias fired the revolver, each shot lighting up the dark forest. But the creatures didn’t stop. They swarmed him, tearing at his clothes and skin. He swung wildly, his mind racing.
"The book, Elias! Open the book and command them!"
With no other choice, Elias ripped open the tome. Its pages glowed with an eerie blue light, and strange symbols danced before his eyes. Without understanding the words, he began to read aloud.
The ground trembled. The creatures froze, their red eyes flickering. A deafening roar echoed through the forest as a dark figure emerged from the shadows, a monstrous being with Pieter Van Drak’s face, twisted and elongated into something inhuman.
"You’ve done well, Elias," the figure said, its voice a terrible blend of Pieter’s and something far older. "But your role is not yet complete."
Elias tried to back away, but the ground beneath him split open, and black tendrils shot out, wrapping around his legs.
"I was promised a soul, Elias. And now, you will give it."
Realization hit him like a blow. Pieter’s voice hadn’t been guiding him; it had been manipulating him. The book, the creatures, the battle, it had all been a ploy to draw him here, to this exact moment.
With the last of his strength, Elias grabbed the glowing tome and hurled it into the chasm. The tendrils recoiled, and Pieter’s monstrous form let out a deafening scream. The ground shook violently, and the chasm began to collapse.
Elias ran, stumbling through the forest as the ruins of Saint Aldric’s Chapel crumbled behind him. The screams of Pieter and his minions faded into the night.
When Elias finally reached his car, the first rays of dawn were breaking through the trees. He looked down at his hands, still trembling and covered in blood.
The voice was gone, and for the first time in his life, Elias felt truly alone.
But deep in the back of his mind, a whisper lingered. Not Pieter’s voice, but something darker, older.
"This isn’t over, Elias. The bloodline never forgets."
As he drove away, Elias couldn’t shake the feeling that the true horror had only just begun.
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