Hours passed as the two thaumaturges searched the manor for any clues of why the former count has been haunting his manor. The search has been fruitless so far, with neither a hint nor lead of the causes of the strange haunting.

Gonzolas does one final lap of the room. The elf sighs, “no good, this room is clean as well.”

“Fuck,” Donitelo cursed softly. The ratfolk took his chalice and drank from it, almost wishing that he could get drunk from its contents. “Hours of searching and we have nothing to show for it. No hidden rooms or cursed items anywhere. I doubt the countess would be pleased with this.”

“Does that mean what keeping the Count here is a personal grudge?”

“It's possible. If it was an object keeping him here, we would have found it by now.” the ratfolk sighed and glanced out the nearest window. The sky above burned a bright red, “we better hurry, the sun is about to set and we have one more room to check. I rather we did not run into the Count now.”

As the two left the room, there were greeted by the orc maid, Matilda, and the Countess. The black clothing the Countess wore earlier was replaced with a brown dress a commoner would wear. “How goes the search,” the Countess said, her tone made it less like a question and more of a demand.

“Nothing so far,” Donitelo said, “we found nothing that could explain the hauntings so far but we have one more room to check.” 

The Countess scoffed, “really? Then be quick about it. You saw that the sun was setting”

The ratfolk moved passed the two ladies, “I am aware, we will do a quick once-” Donitelo stopped, feeling a faint power nearby. So faint that Donitelo is surprised he could have sensed it at all. The ratfolk put his hand on the wall. He was certain something was behind this wall, “Ma’am, do you know what room is on the other side of this wall?”

“This wall? It should be the study, I think.”

Donitelo hurried into the study. The room was nothing special. An oak desk filled the center of the room with bookshelves on both of the side walls. The floor was covered in a thick rug, stepping on it made no sound. Something was off. The Ratfolk hurried to the leftmost wall and placed his hand on the exposed part of the wall. The faint energy he felt was on the other side, but it was slowly getting more noticeable. Donitelo turned to the door, “Gonzolas, I need you!”

As soon as the lantern that Gonzolas was carrying entered the room, the flame on it shifted to the leftmost wall and pointed at the corner covered by the bookshelf. “Master,” the elf cried out.

“Jackpot, there is something hidden here.” Donitelo examined the corner carefully, looking for anything that stood out to him. There was a range of books on various topics on the shelves, from economics to religion. All the books were lined up against the back of the covering separating the books from the wall itself. The ratfolk returned to the exposed wall and examined it again. This time he noticed what look like grooves in the floor and wall, well hidden by the pattern from a casual glance. “Matilda, can you help me move this bookshelf?”

The maid looked at her Countess, who nodded at her gaze. The maid moved to the edge of the bookshelf and pulled. The shelf glided across the floor, barely making a sound until hitting the wall.

Everyone in the room now looked in the corner of the room where the bookshelf once stood. A wooden door with symbols etched into the wood stood in the evening sunlight. The Countess was the first to speak, “why is a door here?”

“You didn’t know?” Donitelo asked.

“I most certainly did not. Father rarely let me in here unless it was business. Even now that I inherited his title and responsibilities, I keep clear of the room unless I am looking for something.” 

Gonzolas turned to his master, his unease clear on his face as much as his nose. “Master.”

“Stay strong Gonzolas.” Donitelo ran his fingers over the etchings. The ratfolk searched his mind for what these symbols meant. “These are magic sigils.”

“Magic?” the Countess said, “but my father shouldn’t have been able to cast magic.”

“You don’t need to use magic to use sigils, just the knowledge of how they work.” the ratfolk continued to run his finger over the sigils. Most of them were unreadable, though rather if they were just done wrong or if Donitelo wasn’t familiar with them was unclear. However, the one sigil he could read said one thing, “protection.”

“Excuse me?”

“This sigil here is for protection. Placing it on any object makes it so supernatural entities cannot interact with it. Put it on a door or wall, and you ghost-proof a room.” or use it to trap someone. Donitelio thought to himself. 

“I see,” the Countess said. “Is it possible that whatever is in the room is connected to the hauntings?”

“I won’t rule it out. Hidden rooms are never a good sign in these situations.” Donitelo turned the door handle and pushed inside the room.

The room was filled with abysmal darkness. The room had no windows to let in the sun, and light coming in at all was from the study’s window. Donitelo steeped cautiously in the room, for while he can see in the dark cause of his blood, he was still feeling that demonic presence deeper in the room. What he saw made his blood run cold.

The room was designed like the study underneath all the darkness, but much smaller in scale. In the middle of the hidden room was a circle on the floor. Around the edges of it were symbols that the thaumaturge was all too familiar with in his line of work. “Oh no.”

Gonzolas steps into the room, the lantern he was carrying giving the room much-needed light. He saw the glyph on the floor, “Master, it-”

“Infernal,” Donitelo said, “Someone was dealing with either a fiend or a demon from the Infernal plane.”

“NO, that's not possible,” the Countess screamed, “my father would never deal with them. He was a philanthropist, he donated to churches and programs to help the city.” the Countess’ breath grew ragged as she collapsed on the floor hyperventilating. Tears formed and ran down her cheek as whatever she was trying to say became a jumbled mess of babbling.

Donitelo crouched down and handed the Countess his chalice, “here, drink this. It will help calm you down.”

The Countess grabbed the chalice in her shaky hands and drank. As she drank, the fatigue and stress that she had developed over the past few days seemed to vanish. When the chalice was emptied, she handed it back to ratfolk, “thank you.”

Donitelo put the chalice back on his belt. Already the chalice was slowly filling it back up with its contents. The ratfolk looked around the room, trying to get a feeling of where that energy he felt was coming from.

When he got to the desk, Donitelo found what he was looking for. Among the obvious infernal artifacts and books was a stone, or maybe it would be accurate to call it a pebble. It was as small as a coin and doesn’t have much weight when held. In the ratfolk’s hand, he felt the energy the pebble give off sink into his skin, but he couldn’t tell just what it was doing. Was this it? He wondered. Is this tiny stone what keeps the Count here?

While looking at the shelves of books, Gonzolos stepped on one that happened to be on the floor. The book was bound in leather but held no title on its cover. The elf picked it up and opened it to a random page. Reading its contents, the Elf turned to his Master, “Sir, I found-”

CREEEEEEEEAAAAAAAKKKK. A loud creaking sound was heard from the other side of the wall, silencing all in the room. It was not the kind of creaking wood makes on its own. It was being stepped on.

Donitelo looked at the study. The light of the sun was gone, instead, darkness covered the windows in its place. “FUCK,” Donitelo slid the stone into his pocket and drew his sword, “we have to go now!”

The ratfolk ran out of the room, followed by his apprentice and the two ladies into the hallway. When they arrived, they were all horrified by what they saw.

Standing in the hall, casting a pale light, was the Late Count himself.