Chapter 50 Back to the Lighthouse
The night in the manor seemed to be never-ending. Every second triples, making the time longer and harder to bear. Each trickle of distant dripping sound of water from somewhere in the chamber echoes, while the rotten, rusty smell gets closer and stronger.
Ingrid's footsteps draw near, her eyes scanning through the darkness of the cell. "Why, you seem so lifeless, dear Gertrude. Worry no more, I am here now..." the head mistress trailed off, inspecting her stiff body; her head tilted to other side, her arms not moving.
"Wake up now, we have no time for dilly-dally! He is coming, he awaits..." she directed the flame of the torch through the hall.
She took the key from her pocket, the rusty metal scraped when she slid it open with one hand. "One move of the torch and you will burn. You should answer when I am talking to you!" she gasped when she grabbed the hardened flesh of her arms, and mercilessly removed the strands of her hair covering her face, and pit of her shock, she immediately dropped down the corpse. "Amalie!" she rasped, eyes could not believe that she tricked her.
"Where oh where did that wretched girl go?!" she sounded like the Wicked Witch who was desperate to find Dorothy. She grasped on her gown and walked away, ready to unleash the creature she once hidden in this very chamber. "Guillaume!" she summoned him, as her footsteps pound heavier, as if it could make the dark place any more darker. There are whispers and voices everywhere, following her. Voices of those gone and forgotten in this fortress. Winds seemed to be calling the sea to ravage the stones and bricks of the mansion.
Meanwhile, Gertrude and Constantine reached a narrow stone stairwell that led further down into the pit of the manor. The air grew colder, heavier, pressing against them as if the walls themselves were alive and breathing. Gertrude could not stop looking around. “Are you sure the path is clear?” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the howling wind that rattled the iron bars of the basement window, but her worry floats like a weightless boat.
Constantine nodded, his eyes scanning the shadows.
“H-Hurry! She will notice in less than a heartbeat that I am gone!" she cried hopelessly.
Gertrude’s lips trembled, not from cold but from the raw, gnawing fear and anxiety that had sunk her chest since that night began. She could hear Ingrid’s voice again, rising and falling in an eerie chant somewhere above, like a cruel lullaby... a spell for the living. "W-Where are we going?" she catches her breath, feet not stopping from escaping. The staircase wound down into an underground cavern. Saltwater dripped from the ceiling, falling into shallow pools on the uneven floor. The faint smell of the sea salt mixed with the ever-present rot and history of the manor.
In the far corner, a small rowboat rested atop a platform, tethered loosely to a thick rope that disappeared into a hole in the cavern wall. A faint light glimmered from somewhere beyond, the hint of moonlight reflecting off a narrow tunnel that led out toward the sea.
Constantine paused, his hand brushing against the damp wall. “Listen,” he said, as they reached the secret dock. His hands started to loosen the rope to settle a sail, yet so swiftly and calm. Like he has calculated the time.
"Get aboard." he commanded.
She had no time to lose and hopped inside, causing the boat to wave. She had a curious look on her face when he handed her the oars, "What am I gonna do with these, Constantine? Come on, let's go! They are coming!" she panicked and refused to accept them.
"Wait, what about you? Get in!" she urged him but all Constantine did was to stand unbothered, with a small humble smile in his face.
"You know the way to the lighthouse---" But before he could even finish, she interrupted him, with a subtle hint of frustration and annoyance, "No, no, I know what you are trying to do---"
"Listen, Gertrude! I need you to sail across the sea and find your way to the red lighthouse. You will be safe there... they cannot touch you, not in there, I promise." he swore and clutched her collar, reaching her lips for a chaste, yearning kiss.
"I won't leave you alone! We are supposed to be together... safe and alive..." she whimpered, tears running down her cheeks.
"Please understand that I am dead long enough. My soul was not saved, but I can still save yours. Trust me..." he whispered. Her stomach twisted with fear, when he pushed her down, then, with all his strength, propelled the boat across the cold water. The boat started saying goodbye as it goes on farther and farther from his direction. She kept on looking back while struggling to balance the ride.
"Do not look back, Gertrude. I will come back for you. We will find each other again." he uttered in a loud voice, loud enough to be heard. She continued paddling, while the other hand simply wiped off a tear away, and plastered a genuine smile on her face, unseen by the other. A smile of acceptance and not giving up.