And then there was the basement.
The house laughed. She heard it—not with her ears, but inside her skull, a deep, rumbling amusement that vibrated through her teeth and her bones.
Silas believes the house will open a door to something he calls the "True World"—a place of pure potential, where thought becomes matter and matter becomes thought. The Order believes that if they can open the door and step through, they will become like gods. brooke beretta
She went to the basement. She opened the book again. And she began to read. The restoration of the Ashworth House took eleven months. When Brooke emerged in October of the following year, thin as a rail and white-haired at thirty-three, the house behind her was no longer a Victorian Gothic nightmare. It was a ruin—not the picturesque kind, but a true ruin, collapsed in on itself like a dying star. The obsidian walls of the basement had crumbled to dust. The faces on the banister had vanished, their wood rotten and hollow. The parquet floor was splinters.
"Evelyn was smarter than you," Brooke said. "She didn't just build a cage. She built a leash. And she left instructions." And then there was the basement
Brooke took a photo. The next morning, the faces were back to their original expressions. She checked the photo on her tablet. In the image, they were smiling.
"Miss Beretta," said Julian Cross's voice, warm and polished and full of old money. "I'm so glad you accepted the job. One small thing I forgot to mention—the house prefers to be called Silas. And he's very eager to meet you." Silas believes the house will open a door
She never touched another Victorian again.