The mansion loomed like a shadow against the crimson hues of the setting sun, its jagged silhouette framed by dying ivy and shattered windows. Rowan stood at the rusted gate, clutching the old brass key her grandmother had left her in a cryptic will.
She hadn’t expected much from her inheritance—a run-down estate in the middle of nowhere wasn’t exactly thrilling. But something about the mansion’s aura called to her, an inexplicable pull that made her breath hitch.
“You’ve got this,” she muttered to herself, slipping the key into the lock. The gate groaned open, revealing a gravel path overrun with weeds. Her boots crunched as she approached the front door, its ornate carvings worn smooth by time.
The moment the door creaked open, a rush of cold air spilled out, carrying the faint scent of smoke and sulfur. Rowan hesitated, glancing back at the fading light of the day. She could turn around, head to the nearby motel, and come back in the morning.
But her feet moved forward.
The interior was surprisingly intact, though draped in layers of dust and decay. Grand chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their crystals dulled by grime, and an ancient fireplace dominated the room, its hearth empty yet radiating warmth.
Rowan ran her fingers along the wall, her steps slow and deliberate. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled as if she were being watched. “Hello?” she called, her voice echoing.
The response was a faint whisper, almost inaudible.
Her heart raced. “Is someone here?”
The whisper came again, this time clearer, a low, masculine voice that seemed to emanate from the walls. “Welcome, Rowan.”
Rowan spun around, her eyes darting across the room. “Who’s there?” she demanded, clutching her flashlight like a weapon.
Silence.
The voice had been unmistakable, deep and resonant, dripping with a strange familiarity. She took a tentative step forward, her gaze fixed on the fireplace. It seemed to pulse faintly, as if alive.
“Don’t play games with me,” she said, her voice trembling.
A low chuckle reverberated through the air, sending shivers down her spine. “Games? Hardly.”
The flames erupted in the fireplace, roaring to life without warning. Rowan stumbled back, shielding her face from the sudden heat. When she lowered her arm, a figure stood within the flames, his form flickering like a mirage.
He was impossibly tall, his skin a rich, molten bronze that shimmered with the firelight. His eyes glowed a deep, smoldering red, and curling horns jutted from his dark hair. He exuded power, his presence filling the room and stealing the air from her lungs.
“Who—what are you?” she managed to whisper.
The figure stepped out of the flames, the fire clinging to him like a cloak before dissipating. “I am bound to this place,” he said, his voice a velvet growl. “And now, so are you.”
Rowan backed away, her heart hammering. “Bound? What are you talking about?”
He tilted his head, his expression almost amused. “Your bloodline called me here centuries ago. You’ve inherited more than bricks and mortar, Rowan. You’ve inherited me.”
“I didn’t ask for this,” she said, her voice rising.
“And yet here you are,” he replied smoothly, his gaze unwavering.
Rowan’s back hit the wall as the infernal being advanced, his eyes glowing brighter with every step. “Stay away,” she warned, though her voice wavered.
“I mean you no harm,” he said, his tone softer now. “But you must understand—this house, this bond, it is not something you can simply ignore.”
“What bond?” she demanded. “I don’t want anything to do with you or this place!”
His lips curved into a faint smile. “It isn’t about what you want. It is about what is.”
Rowan clenched her fists, her fear beginning to morph into anger. “You can’t just trap me here! I have a life outside of this… this nightmare!”
The being stopped, his expression darkening. “Do you?” he asked, his voice laced with challenge. “You live in a world that does not see you, among people who would not miss you. This house, this bond—it gives you purpose. Power.”
His words hit like a blow, and Rowan’s breath hitched. “That’s not true,” she whispered, though her conviction faltered.
“You feel it, don’t you?” he pressed, his voice dropping to a low, seductive rumble. “The pull of the flame, the promise of what we could achieve together. Say the word, and I will show you what it means to truly live.”
Rowan’s heart raced, her mind torn between defiance and curiosity. The air between them crackled with energy, the firelight casting flickering shadows across his sharp features.
“What’s the catch?” she asked finally, her voice barely above a whisper.
The infernal being smiled, his sharp teeth glinting in the firelight. “No catch. Only truth. Accept me, and the power of the flame will be yours. Reject me…” His eyes darkened, and the fire roared behind him. “And the house will claim you, as it has claimed all who came before you.”
Rowan hesitated, her pulse pounding in her ears. “And if I say yes?”
“Then you will be mine,” he said simply. “And I will be yours.”
The words hung in the air, heavy with promise and threat. Rowan’s gaze locked onto his, her fear tempered by a spark of something she couldn’t quite name.
“I need time,” she said finally, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her.
The being inclined his head, his expression unreadable. “Time you shall have. But know this—the flame waits for no one.”
With a snap of his fingers, the fire in the hearth extinguished, plunging the room into darkness. Rowan stood alone, her thoughts racing as the weight of his presence lingered.
The following morning, Rowan awoke in a cold sweat, her dreams haunted by glowing eyes and fiery whispers. The mansion was silent, the air thick with an oppressive stillness that pressed against her chest. She had planned to leave at first light, but something kept her there, an invisible tether pulling her deeper into its clutches.
“You’re still here,” the voice echoed as she entered the main hall.
Rowan froze, her heart skipping a beat. The infernal figure stepped from the shadows, his movements fluid and predatory. The glow of his eyes softened as they met hers.
“Let me guess,” she said, her voice laced with sarcasm, “the house won’t let me leave.”
He inclined his head. “The house obeys the flame, and the flame obeys me. But it is your choice to stay.”
Rowan laughed bitterly. “Some choice.”
He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. “You feel it, don’t you? The bond between us. It grows stronger with every moment you linger.”
She swallowed hard, her instincts screaming at her to run, but her feet stayed rooted. “What do you want from me?”
“To awaken what lies dormant within you,” he replied, his tone almost reverent. “The flame is not merely power. It is life, passion, creation. Together, we could reshape the world—or burn it to ash.”
Rowan’s jaw tightened. “And what if I don’t want to ‘reshape the world’?”
“Then you would waste the gift you’ve been given,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “And the flame would consume you.”
The mansion’s walls seemed to close in around her as Rowan followed him to the grand ballroom. The air grew warmer, and the faint scent of sulfur returned. At the center of the room, a large, circular sigil glowed faintly on the floor, its intricate lines pulsing like a heartbeat.
“What is this?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“The Trial,” he said. “If you are to claim the power of the flame, you must prove yourself worthy.”
Rowan eyed the sigil warily. “And if I’m not?”
His expression darkened. “Then the house will decide your fate.”
The words sent a chill down her spine, but she squared her shoulders, refusing to let him see her fear. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”
As she stepped into the circle, the sigil flared to life, and the room was engulfed in blinding light. When the haze cleared, Rowan found herself standing in a barren wasteland of ash and fire. The air was suffocating, and the ground beneath her feet glowed with molten cracks.
“You must face the flame,” his voice echoed, though his form was nowhere in sight.
A surge of heat erupted in front of her, and a figure emerged from the fire. It was her—but different. The doppelgänger’s eyes burned with the intensity of an inferno, and flames licked at her skin without consuming it.
“Do you see what you could become?” the voice asked. “This is your power, unrestrained. Your choice is simple: claim it, or be destroyed by it.”
The fiery doppelgänger lunged at her, and Rowan barely managed to dodge, the heat searing her skin. She stumbled back, her mind racing.
“This isn’t real,” she muttered, gripping her sides. “This isn’t real!”
The doppelgänger struck again, its blows relentless, and Rowan found herself cornered. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she searched for an escape.
“Fight, Rowan,” the voice urged. “The flame will not bow to the weak.”
Her gaze locked onto the burning figure, and a spark of defiance flared within her. “No,” she said, her voice steadying. “The flame doesn’t control me.”
With a shout, Rowan charged, her hand outstretched. The moment she made contact, the doppelgänger dissolved into light, its heat flooding into her body. The sigil beneath her feet glowed brighter, and she gasped as the power surged through her veins.
When Rowan opened her eyes, she was back in the ballroom, the sigil dimming beneath her feet. Her body felt different—stronger, as if the fire coursing through her veins had become a part of her.
The infernal figure stood before her, his expression unreadable. “You have passed,” he said, his voice softer now.
Rowan flexed her fingers, watching as faint embers danced across her skin before fading. “What happens now?”
“Now,” he said, stepping closer, “we are bound. The flame marks you as mine, and I as yours.”
She met his gaze, her fear replaced by a cautious determination. “I’m not your servant.”
“No,” he agreed, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “You are my equal.”
The air between them crackled with energy, the bond between them palpable. For the first time, Rowan felt a sense of control, a connection to the power that had once terrified her.
“And what if I decide to leave?” she asked, testing the boundaries of their pact.
His smile faded, replaced by a solemn intensity. “The flame will always call to you, Rowan. You may leave, but you will never be free of it—or me.”
Rowan’s lips curved into a faint smirk. “Good to know.”
As the mansion seemed to awaken around them, its once-decayed halls glowing with life, Rowan knew her life had changed forever. The flame was hers now, and though the path ahead was uncertain, she was ready to face it.
