The Secret of Arkcroft Manor

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

To any rational, outside 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 did little to raise cause for alarm, 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, his ribs protruding, cheeks hollow, and eyes sunken.

For only Niklaus alone 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. And yet, 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 there beneath the muffled down feathering that threatened to suffocate him, he pleaded this time would somehow be different. "No more, spirit! I beg of you! No more!" He muttered to himself over and over again in a kind of frantic mantra.

And yet 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. The final cords of resistance snapping within himself. He had grown weak. Despite his best efforts to resist, Niklaus' defenses withered away like an insignificant pebble beneath the never-ending cascade of a waterfall.

And although he fought to deny this truth, Niklaus knew that the tormenting spirit could feel it too. He had already surrendered.

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

In response to Joseph's plea, the long-dormant hunger within Niklaus growled ravenously to life once more. Before he could rouse enough of his mental fortitude to remain defiant, the darkness of his obsession swallowed him whole. A final shaky breath and Niklaus' world went dark.

When the veil over his eyes finally alleviated, Niklaus was standing in his manor's parlor panting heavily, hands bloody and savaged, with his fingertips worn down almost to the bone. Overcome with exhaustion, the haunted heir of Arkcroft Manor 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, but now it conferred no such grandeur or dignity. Not to Niklaus, whose gaunt face lay transfixed on the shattered scattering of bricks strewn about his feet, along with the now-exposed bones that, until recently, had been concealed behind them.

"Ahh yes, good to see you again, brother." The corpse seemed to whisper cruelly.

"Joseph..." Niklaus replied while his grief-stricken hands pawed at his face, leaving crimson trails of blood in their wake. "How... How are you doing this?"

"I thought that would be obvious." The skeleton behind the ruins seemed to smirk, and there in his arms, he spied it, the tool of Joseph's death and Niklaus' burgeoning madness. The accursed chest, which had been bound to his brother in death by a tangled mess of chains. Beneath its ebony-paneled surface, Niklaus could feel the unseen contents calling to him like an inescapable siren song.

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

Suddenly in his mind's eye, Niklaus recalled every facet of the unholy publication that resided within. "Oh... Oh, how much I had forgotten." He agonized, his tone apologetic yet haunted.

Caught in a kind of trance, Niklaus was suddenly able to recall each detail of their last encounter with immeasurable pleasure. From the sublime charge of ecstasy which 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.

"Master, forgive me. How could I ever forget such dark euphoria!" Niklaus lamented.

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 was beyond 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. Their distorted forms twisting and wrenching across the gilded surfaces and lifeless portraits whose accusatory eyes seemed to bore down upon the sole denizen of Arkcroft.

"The time has come again, my child. Embrace me, and my secrets will be yours once more."

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 reading exacted. For two must read, but only one can know, as the knowledge contained 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? Niklaus did not know. Had he been chosen, or was he merely a victor of chance? Could not Joseph just as easily have supplanted him, or did Niklaus possess some unknown quality about him that his own blood had lacked?

And most importantly, would Niklaus be awarded such protection again, or this time would he serve as the 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 once more.

"Still, you will not assure me?" He asked ever-fearfully. "That I will not be claimed as payment, this time."

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

"And yet one life is still required; that price... it has remained unchanged?" The Lord of Arkcroft Manor trembled.

"Knowledge requires sacrifice." The tome stated, its tone subtly dripping with desire.

"And... And who else shall serve?" He asked, his voice faltering slightly.

"Fret not, my son. 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! Are you here? 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? So, I ask, will you pay it again?"

An absolute wave of 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. Wrapped in warm, pressed robes of exquisite quality, his face and hands no longer marred with blood. All was as it had been.

Save for the chest which sat beside his uncle's throne, lid ajar. "We await your decision." It purred as the soft pattering of footsteps down the hall drew nearer.

Words of warning choked in Niklaus' throat, with any desire to warn his son strangled in their infancy before they could even begin to take hold. Ignorance would not shield him this time. This time, his choice must be made in full awareness of the unthinkable cost.

And still, his voice conceded, "Yes."

"Father!" Morgan's soft angelic voice rang out as he rounded the corner and came into view at last. "I know we'd agreed I would stay at school for the winter break, but I wanted to surprise you!"

Sprinting, the young boy, just shy of his seventh year, flung himself into his father's arms. "Well?" Morgan chimed playfully, his face buried in his father's chest, "Did I surprise you?!"

"Yes..." Niklaus answered, his eyes still glued to the chest which sat patiently at the edge of his vision. "I certainly wasn't expecting you."

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

"Oh, my boy... I missed you too. You know, I was just about to do some reading... Would you care to join me?"

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

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