Meanwhile, at Serena's house, the silence in the hall had grown so deep that the three of them could hear their own heartbeats clearly. The smell of wax and rotting earth in the air had sharpened further, as if an old corpse had been wrapped in wax and hidden there.
"Luciana?" Serena called out in a restrained voice, but in response, only that same murmuring hum echoed back—
"My daughter… my little fairy… my wax doll… my most beloved…"
The voice was coming from the upper floor. Mercy pulled her gun from its holster and gave a signal. All three began climbing the old wooden staircase slowly. With every step, the creaking of the wood tore through the stillness—creek… creak… The aged portraits lining the walls seemed to stare at them, as though their eyes were following their every move.
When they reached the room upstairs, the door stood slightly ajar. A faint blue light seeped out from within. Holding her breath, Mercy pushed the door fully open.
