Chapter 22-Aislinn

The mansion looks totally different in the afternoon sun, nothing like it did on that dreary night. Time has waved its magic wand, turning it into this old yet elegant building. It's so different. I pause for a moment to consider whether it's the same place, but of course it is. It's so silly of me of me to think otherwise. The dream, and the ghost, had both led me to this place, so it must be. Perhaps it'll appear more familiar once we go inside.

As I run my gaze over the intricate details carved into the wooden frames, a familiar pull urges me closer. It's as if it's inviting me inside. My eyes trail the curling ivy that runs up the walls, in and around posts, lining the windows. There's nothing ominous about what I'm seeing here, and honestly, I'm a little embarrassed about being frightened of this place before now. There are no monsters waiting to pounce. I shake my head, huffing at my earlier fear.

The invisible pull from just earlier seems to increase, tugging at my heels to move forward. There's no need to fight this now, I realise, and succumb to the motion that leads me to the door. It sits ajar atop the stairs. I thought I closed it when I left, and now I worry if my carelessness has left this jewel at the mercy of animals, and whatever roams these woods.

"Go on in, child," a soft, familiar woman's voice urges, vanishing as swiftly as it arrives. With the group's oblivious faces focused on their own exploration, I feel the burden of leading them into the house. They await my cue, unaware of the voice that urges me forward. Drawn to the threshold, I step into the mansion's cool interior. I race my gaze around the foyer, keen to catch sight of the ghostly man-if he's still here.

The group follows my lead, gasps escape each one as they slowly take in the space's enormity before us. The home's grandeur unfurls as we venture in further, leaving us in wonder. Is this what it's like to visit a palace? A crystal chandelier hangs in the centre of the foyer, sparkling against rays of sun that sneak in through gaps, shining like diamonds. The grand staircase is a precise masterpiece, commanding centre stage, with its delicately carved steps leading to the upper floors.

Maggie strides toward the curtains and with a flourish, she pulls them open, allowing the sunlight to flood the room. The added illumination reveals more details-the dust motes waft and linger in the air, the faded elegance of floral wallpaper, and the gleam of polished wood beneath layers of neglect.

Jake seems infatuated as eyes light up, taking a moment to examine the wooden wainscotting. His fingers trace the intricate carvings, and he marvels at the attention to detail.

"You just don't find work like this anymore," he says.

Ben, Ellie, and I gather near a cluster of furniture sheets. Each of us sneaking a peak under a sheet before pulling them off in one fell swoop, unveiling hidden treasures - antique chairs, hallway tables, and mirrors with ornate frames. A vase with dried roses, delicate and fragile, crumbles at the slightest touch. I wonder how long it's been since someone placed them in this spot, and whether they're from the garden.

Mum's stern voice cuts through our excited chatter. "Aislinn, be careful with these antiques. Years of wear and tear have made them delicate, and they may not hold up well under rough handling."

With a shared understanding, we decide to explore with caution. The suggestion from Mum to break into pairs gains unanimous approval. She and Jake opt for the west wing, while Maggie and Ellie choose the east wing. Ben and I decide to head up the staircase to the first floor.

The upper floor unfolds into a long hallway, stretching along the mansion's length. It's a realm of undiscovered history, waiting to be unveiled. I pause, a mischievous glint in my eyes, as I turn to Ben.

"Follow me. I want to show you something."

Guiding him with purpose, we navigate through interconnected rooms until we arrive in the sitting room. It feels as though it's charged with energy from something unseen, and I'm almost certain I hear whispers just below what I can decipher. I scan the room before pointing to the French doors and balcony.

"There," I say, with hushed excitement. "This is where he spoke to me-the ghost. Right here."

As I stand in the centre of the room, surrounded by more furniture covered in white sheets, I watch Ben swing open the doors, moving onto the balcony. My heart races at sharing this experience with Ben. He seems over the moon with this secret, calling me over to join him on the balcony. It feels like déjà vu, as I stand in the same spot as last time, although my intentions are altogether different this time around.

Something blurs past from the corner of my eye and my breath catches, wondering whether the ghostly man has returned, or perhaps the whispering woman-whomever she may be. A frigid whisper gently floats into my right ear. "Welcome back, Aislinn." It's the man. I turn, inspecting the area for his presence, but he evades my sight. Perhaps he prefers to remain hidden from the others, or maybe he's just shy.

Ben leans against the balcony railing, captivated by the sprawling grounds below. "It's like stepping into a living history book," I muse, my voice barely above a whisper, wondering if the ghosts are nearby listening in.

Ben grins. "So, what's the story with this place?"

"Who knows? But I'm determined to find out," I say.

A ghostly figure materialises at the garden's edge, and I greet him, feeling a strange yet familiar connection.

"Hello." He nods in response. A sense of unspoken understanding between us hovers.

Ben, wide-eyed, stammers, "Is that ... Is that a ghost?" Well, I guess that answers that question-not shy, and not hiding.

I nod, "Yes. That's the ghost I met." Pausing for a moment, I contemplate how much I want to share with Ben. "And the ghost from my dream..."

Ben's forehead creases, his mouth dropping open in astonishment. "Wow. Do you know his name?"

I shake my head. "He hasn't revealed that to me yet."

Ben examines my words and offers a suggestion. "Perhaps he doesn't remember it. Maybe that's a thing that happens when you die?"

I shrug, "I'm not sure. Honestly, this is all new to me, Ben. Before I came here, last time, I'd never seen or heard a ghost before."

The figure fades gracefully into the foliage just as I hear a soft whisper. "Aislinn, embrace your gifts. You will realise your truth." The words linger, curious to understand the depth of the message.

"What gift?" I murmur, more to myself than to Ben, scanning the room for answers. The mansion seems to hold its breath, waiting for me to unlock its secrets.

Gifts? What gifts? Does she mean the ability to see ghosts? I'm not entirely certain that's a gift! More a headache than anything, to be honest. But what does she mean I will realise my 'truth'? It seems every time we come close to finding an answer, another puzzle appears.

"Did you hear that?" I say, turning to Ben.

He shakes his head. "No. What'd you hear? The ghost again?"

"Yeah, she told me to 'use my gifts'." I turn to Ben, with a sense of responsibility settling in. "We're not just exploring a house; we're unravelling a mystery. Are you ready?"

Ben grins, exuding confidence as he stands with his hands on his hips. "I'm born ready, Ais."

We enter the room and close the doors behind us. Thoughts are swirling in my mind. What is the binding force that keeps the ghost here? What gift does the mansion see? Unanswered questions hang in the air. The mansion awaits decoding.

A faint whisper hover silently. "Help him, Aislinn. Release him from what binds." The woman hides in the shadows. Like a breeze, the thought enters my mind. "I wait for him. Help him find his way to me."

Ben and I exchange a glance, but it's clear he didn't hear the ghosts' whisper. The call of the mansion grows more urgent.

As the explorer, I hold the key to the secrets within these haunted walls, yet I am clueless about where to begin.

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