Chapter 3: The Descent
The heavy oak door leading to the service stairs was locked. It was never locked. Julian stepped back and drove his heel into the wood, splintering the frame with a loud crack that was swallowed by the sheer size of the mansion. He descended into the dim, utilitarian belly of the house. The air grew stale, smelling faintly of damp stone and bleach.
As he navigated the labyrinthine corridors of the lower kitchens, a sound stopped him dead in his tracks. It was a whimper. Faint, breathy, and utterly devoid of hope. It sounded less human and more like a wounded animal. Julian’s blood ran cold. He followed the sound to the heavy steel door of a disused pantry, a room meant for storing root vegetables and bulk supplies. The door was bolted from the outside. With trembling hands, he threw the latch and pulled it open.
