The Monster of Arkcroft Manor

"Come, Brother!" Joseph's familiar voice called out yet again, ringing with almost childlike exuberance. "Come and see!"

To any rational observer, this alone would seem an innocuous request, harmlessly echoing down the well-polished halls of Arkcroft Manor. Even when considering the absurdly early hour of the day, the words themselves proved harmless, and yet, warded off in the upstairs master bedroom, a pool of cold sweat accumulated beneath Niklaus' sleep-deprived body all the same. Despite being draped in all manner of finery, beneath his canopy of mahogany and silks, the lord of Arkcroft, Niklaus Croft, appeared as death itself, with protruding ribs, hollowed cheeks, and sunken eyes.

For only Niklaus could fully appreciate the true extent of terror this seemingly innocent summons held, bearing the knowledge that Joseph, his most dear younger brother, had been entombed three months prior. Even so, his voice continued unabated, every hour, of every day, for three months.

In yet another exercise in futility, Niklaus firmly wrapped both ends of his pillow over his ears. He knew it wouldn't work. It never did. Buried beneath the muffled down feathering that threatened to suffocate him, he pleaded this time would somehow be different.

"No more! I beg of you! No more!" he muttered to himself over and over again in a frantic mantra.

Despite these desperate pleas, Joseph's words came to him all the same, as though it were being poured directly from his lips and into Niklaus' ear, "Come and see, Brother."

"No..." Niklaus whimpered pitifully. "No, please..."

But he could feel it, that festering need which had long-incubated inside him while the final tethers of his resistance frayed. He had grown weak, far too weak. Despite his best efforts to resist, Niklaus' defenses had withered away like an insignificant pebble beneath the never-ending cascade of a waterfall.

Although he fought to deny this truth, he understood that the tormenting spirit could feel it too - Niklaus was ready to surrender at last.

"Come and see." It enticed ever more greedily.

In response to Joseph's plea, the long-suppressed hunger within Niklaus growled ravenously to life once more. Before he could rouse enough of his mental fortitude to prolong his defiance, the darkness seized him, and his obsession swallowed him whole. Niklaus’ war of attrition had finally ended - he had lost. With a final shaky breath, Niklaus' world went dark.

When the veil over his eyes finally lifted, the young lord was standing in his manor's parlor panting heavily. The reflection coming from the storm-lit window stared back at him, its eyes filled with dread, for the specter lurking in that pane which bore his visage was draped in robes of blood. The source he and his mirrored ghost discovered was their own bloodied hands, which sprouted ten grotesque, crimson appendages that had all whittled down to the bone.

Overcome with mental and physical exhaustion, the haunted heir of Arkcroft collapsed back into his accursed uncle's prized reading chair. His 'throne,' or so the long-since deceased former master of Arkcroft had called it, had overlooked the lake below the cliffs of Arkcroft Manor for generations. Despite this regal appointment, the adornment no longer conferred any such grandeur or dignity. Not to Niklaus anyways, whose gaunt face now lay transfixed on the shattered scattering of bricks strewn about his feet. Discarded, they now resembled a twisted trail of breadcrumbs from a gothic Grimm's tale guiding him towards the newly-exposed bones that, until recently, had been concealed behind their masonry.

The skeleton grinned menacingly from the gaping hole in the wall. "Ah yes, good to see you again, brother," The corpse seemed to whisper cruelly.

"No, Joseph! No!" Niklaus replied while his grief-stricken hands pawed at his face, leaving crimson trails of blood in their wake as tormented memories flooded back into his consciousness. Unable to stomach the sight of his brother's corpse, Niklaus' turned and fixed his attention to the lake beyond the window.

"It's... it's funny, isn't it?" Niklaus finally muttered.

"What is?"

"As a child, I always feared the lake. I remember having nightmares where monsters from below the surface would reach up and pull me under, drowning me. If only I'd known then what I know now."

"Which is?"

"That the monsters were inside the house all along," he replied. Mustering enough courage, Niklaus turned to face his rotted brother once more. "How Joseph... how are you doing this?"

"I thought that would be obvious." The skeleton behind the ruins seemed to smirk. There, clutched in his arms, Niklaus spied it, the tool of Joseph's death and his own burgeoning madness. The accursed chest, which he had bound to his brother in death with a tangled web of chains. He could feel it emanating there just beneath the ebony-paneled surface, the unseen contents which called to him like a siren song.

"The time has come, Niklaus," His brother's voice hissed in his ear, "It's time to read once more."

Suddenly in his mind's eye, Niklaus recalled every facet of the unholy publication that resided within. "Oh... oh, dark euphoria! How much I had forgotten," he agonized, his tone apologetic yet haunted.

Caught in a trance, Niklaus could suddenly recall each detail of their last encounter with immeasurable pleasure. From the sublime charge of ecstasy that had pulsed between his fingers as they danced across forsaken pages to the wicked rapture of taboo secrets whispered only to him and the sheer elation that each of these forbidden revelations aroused within him.

"Forgive me," Niklaus lamented. "Please forgive me! I never should have forgotten!"

Heeding the repentant's call, the chains which bound chest to bone fell away, and the hinges, no longer restrained, gave way with an almost tantalizing groan. Then from within its shadowy contents, a most unnatural fog spewed forth, creeping steadily across the parlor until each of the oil lamps about Niklaus had been doused, leaving him alone in utter darkness. In the light's wanting absence, Niklaus' cursed treasure provided him with an emerald gift whose ethereal beauty surpassed the combined imaginations of man. The otherworldly luminescence restored Niklaus' sight to him and basked him in its eerie radiance. Around the veiled parlor, shadows danced unnaturally in the alien gleam. There against the opulent backdrop, their distorted forms twisted and wrenched across gilded surfaces and lifeless portraits whose accusatory eyes seemed to bore down upon the sole denizen of Arkcroft.

"Embrace me, my child, and my secrets will be yours."

As the tome's honeyed words washed over him with devilish efficacy, a final bubbling dread managed to shake Niklaus from his trance. For he knew far too well the cost such a transaction exacted. Death. Two were required to read, but only one was allowed to know, for the unholy secrets within proved a covetous master, as ravenous as it was unforgiving.

It was this, this single haunting fact, that left Niklaus with a single burning question. How had he been spared once before? Or why? Niklaus did not know. Had his unseen master chosen him, or was he merely a victor of chance? Could Joseph just as easily supplanted him, or did Niklaus possess some unknown quality about him that his own blood had lacked? If so, would Niklaus be awarded such protection again? Or this time, would he be the one to serve as kindling fodder for another? But no matter how he had worded the question, though, the answer he sought continued to elude him. It was the one secret the tome had withheld, and now it beckoned him to gamble with his life once more.

"Still, you will not assure me?" Niklaus asked, his voice dripping with fear, "A word from you that I shall not be claimed as payment this time. That's all I ask."

"Knowledge requires risk," it answered with icy, unfeeling inflection.

"But one must die, correct? That price... has remained unchanged?" the Lord of Arkcroft Manor questioned.

"Knowledge requires sacrifice," The tome stated, its tone beginning to subtly drip with desire.

"And... and who else shall serve?" he asked, his voice faltering slightly. “We are alone.”

"Fret not, my child. We have already provided."

Niklaus' body quivered in a mix of fear and anticipation. "When?"

"Now." This disembodied voice replied in sinister glee.

Just then, in perfect tandem, Niklaus heard the lock to the front door disengage.

Announced by the playful jingling of keys, he heard his son, Morgan, call out to him. "Father! I'm home! Where are you? I've returned from boarding school early!"

Niklaus froze. "Please, God no..."

"What?" The chest whispered hungrily, "It is a price you paid before, is it not? Surely you can pay it again."

A wave of pure terror seized Niklaus. In an instant, the emerald light vanished, and the soft glow of the oiled lamps reclaimed their domain. Beneath their luminescent flames, the once ruined bricks at Niklaus' feet miraculously restored themselves, concealing Joseph's ignoble demise once more. Much like the parlor, Niklaus, too, found himself restored. Now wrapped in warm, pressed robes of exquisite quality, Niklaus’ face and hands were no longer marred with blood. All was as it had been, save for the chest which now sat expectantly beside his uncle's throne, lid ajar.

"We await your decision," it purred as the soft pattering of footsteps down the hall drew closer.

Ignorance would not shield Niklaus this time. This time, his choice would have to be made in full awareness of the unthinkable cost, and yet the words of warning choked in Niklaus' throat; any desire to warn his son strangled in its infancy. Salvation would have no place at Arkcroft Manor today.

"In here, Morgan... I'm in here."

"Father!" Morgan's soft angelic voice rang out as he rounded the corner. "Now I know we agreed I would stay at school for the winter break, but I had this feeling that I needed to come and see you! You’re not mad at me, are you?"

"Mad? No, no, not mad at all. Just surprised."

Sprinting, the young boy, just shy of his ninth year, flung himself into his father's arms. "But a good surprise, right?" he asked, burying his face further into Niklaus' chest.

"Yes - a very good surprise," Niklaus answered, eyes glued to the chest which sat patiently at the edge of his vision.

"Good!" the child exclaimed, nuzzling his way deeper into his father's embrace. "Oh, I've missed you so much!"

"Oh... I’ve missed you too," Niklaus said, his gaze still fixed. "You know, I was just about to do some reading... would you care to join me?"

"Yes, please!" Morgan replied, finally resurfacing. Smiling impishly, he asked, "Is it a scary story, father? You know those are my favorite!"

Assuming his seat upon the throne once more, Niklaus tapped his lap, urging his son to take his place beside him, "Come and see."