A/N- I found myself wondering, what was Mark's and Celine's marriage like? I wanted to explore the event that triggered the whole story to begin with.
No matter how many times she traversed the hallways of the manor, the empty stillness and the chill that never seemed to leave despite the interior heating were more than enough to unnerve her. It wasn't as if the place was abandoned, though admittedly the size of the residence was intended for many more people than what it housed now. In the daytime, it was grating, but at night it turned downright creepy.
Celine lifted her head an inch higher, forging past the discomfort as she headed towards the family archives, a chamber candle burning steadily in her hand to light the way. Turning on the hallway lights may very well wake some of the house staff, or even Mark himself, which she wanted to avoid if at all possible. He wasn't aware of her late-night escapades, and she'd prefer to keep it that way.
Her green, floor-length nightgown was made of a thin material, not enough to prevent the chill from seeping into her skin and causing her to shiver. The flame on the candle flickered occasional from stray drafts through the windows. One could almost imagine the house itself was breathing, but Celine shook the ridiculous thought off.
The hallways were dark, and there were no staff awake at this ungodly hour. Celine herself had to question what exactly she was doing so late at night, but then pushed forward regardless. There was something wrong with this house, but she couldn't figure out exactly what.
The library sat at the very western edge of the manor, and she carefully opened one of the wooden, double doors by it's details, iron handle. The hinges gave a small squeak of protest, and Celine winced, looking behind her should there be anyone who heard the noise. After a few seconds of silence, she pressed on, slipping in between the doors and closing it behind her.
The library had become a safe haven of sorts, as she could lose herself in the books in an effort to shake the uneasy feeling that blanketed you once inside this place. However, the main library was not what she was here for this night. Ignoring the looming bookshelves she was so familiar with, the light of the candle illuminated the path to the nearly-hidden side door at the back of the room. The family archives, records of the masters of the mansion, dating back decades.
Access to this room wasn't exactly restricted, considering she was the lady of the house. However, when Mark had questioned her interest in the information it contained, he'd simply brushed her concerns aside.
"There is something about this manor-" She'd said, but didn't get to finish the thought.
"It's that wayward over-imagination of yours getting to you again, Darling. Think nothing more of it. Come, let us meet Nathaniel and his lovely wife in the front room for some tea." And with a dismissive wave of his hand, he'd dragged her off to visit with the pair of friends she had barely any interest in seeing.
That hadn't been the only time he disregarded her concerns over the strange, uneasy feelings she had when inside the house. Each time, he didn't believe her, simply chalking it up to nerves and her imagination. But she refused to be dissuaded.
So, she'd resorted to finding out the information on her own, without Mark's knowledge. She doubted he was hiding anything from her, but that he simply didn't believe anything was wrong. It was one of the few things she disliked about her husband, but it didn't appear as if he'd change in the near future. Love meant accepting the flaws of your partner, but it didn't mean you had to like it necessarily.
The door to the archives was nondescript, just a plain wood door set in the corner of the library, almost unseen unless you were looking for it. Celine approached and jimmied the handle until it stuttered open, obviously not seeing much use. There was a sconce set on the wall, and she lit the few candles that still remained. The small room lit up a bit more, and she set her own chamber candle on the single table inside.
Two low-laying bookshelves lined the edge of the room, thick and dusty volumes filling the spaces. Her previous visits had been less fruitful, as she'd had to figure out the best starting point for her research. Some of the volumes were out of order, and she'd had to do a bit of organization beforehand. Now, however, she had a place to pick back up from.
While she browsed the book for any relevant information, her mind wandered to many a topic. Mark was always so dismissive about what Celine believed. He'd lived in this house for years, he'd say, and nothing ever felt out of place. However, Celine couldn't quite shake the sensation of being watched, as if there was someone standing behind you at all times. Even now, she dared a glance over her shoulder, just in case.
By contrast, William was much more receptive to her concerns. The numerous times he came to visit, she'd mentioned the feeling, and she was surprised to find him so talkative about it.
"Oh, this damned house has always been that way." He'd once told her while Mark was locked in his study for business, nodding as she'd explained her unease. "Maybe decades of scandal and mistrust start to affect even the house. No mansion has a clean slate, so to speak. Who knows what's gone on here before we've lived in it?"
It was relieving, to finally feel that her suspicions were validated, especially from one with close connections to the place itself. It was part of the reason her and William had grown so close. His stories were intriguing, and he was a valuable asset when doing her research.
He was also rather handsome. Something she hadn't noticed previously.
Belatedly, Celine realized she'd drifted so far into her own mind, she'd stopped reading the book in front of her. Backtracking to before she began to drift in her thoughts, her finger skimmed the lines, looking for signs of any clues as to what was going on with this manor.
Brushing hastily beneath her eyes to rid the last of the tears, Celine took a shuttering breath, her feet quickening down the hall. This was all too much, it was all just so burdening, and he couldn't understand. Behind her, she could hear Mark open the bedroom door in a rush, her name being shouted. Ignoring the desperation and interlaced anger in his tone, she turned the corner to head towards the library. It was her safe haven, the place she could escape from all this madness.
While en route, she realized that that's exactly where Mark expected her to go. The last person she wanted to see at that moment was him, and so at the next corner, Celine hooked a sharp right and changed her destination to something a bit more unpredictable. Mark's shouts continued in the background, but as the seconds wore on, his voice grew fainter and fainter, until they were simply muffled noise.
Taking the hallway that would lead directly to the courtyard outside, she pushed past the glass door and let it shut with a snap behind her. It was late evening, the sky stuck between a deep purple and dark blue that told her dusk was approaching. The air was still warm, but carried with it the promise of wind and possibly rain.
Her feet carried her down the stone steps and to the lower pathway below. She passed the golf course, ignoring it and hastening her steps towards the pathway to the garden. The gardeners would be inside at this time, no one to disturb her.
The stone railings to each side of the walkway stopped abruptly at the edge of the garden, instead replaced by leafy hedges that served the same purpose. The trees that lined the sides of the path and the interior of the garden provided enough cover for her to begin to relax.
The uncomfortable feeling of being squeezed, a constant background pressure she still couldn't explain, released as soon as she had stepped foot outside of the manor itself, but now that she was surrounded by nature and it's beauty, the last vestiges seemed to shake themselves off, leaving her feeling clean. She sighed in relief, finding a stone bench further down the path. Taking a seat, her head fell into her hands.
Her face felt itchy, the tears having dried but the feeling of having cried still lingering. Celine let out another shuddering breath, then straightened her back and forced away the overwhelming emotions.
This fight in particular had gotten under Celine's skin. Not that the previous ones hadn't, but this one just helped to solidify her own suspicions. Things weren't as well as she'd suspected. The first year or two of their marriage had seen few disagreements. Of course, she'd been younger and more naive back then, more open to letting people sway her desires, but things had been good.
Suddenly, it was like neither of them knew the other person. Had they changed so much in the years together? When had it happened? How had it happened? Celine was certain the house had something to do with it, but that wasn't really something she could explain to her husband, who'd had enough of her 'ramblings about this godforsaken house.'
He'd called her crazy. Mad. Without her senses. Perhaps she was.
No! She thought to herself harshly, her hands tightening into fists against her head. I'm anything but crazy. I know what I feel.
The sound of footsteps nearby snapped her head up, where she saw William tentatively approaching her. He looked concerned, as if she'd get up and bite him, but she didn't and said nothing as he slowly eased into the spot beside her.
"Well now, what's got you looking so grim?" He inquired quietly, keeping a respectful distance away, but close enough to let her know he was there.
Celine sighed, shaking her head slowly. She couldn't find the words to explain for some time. Had it been anyone else asking, she'd have smiled that pretty facade and insisted she were fine. But William…she trusted him, and he'd become a close friend of hers over the past few years. She'd tell him practically anything.
"It's Mark. He's…changed." The Colonel tilted his head, silently asking her to elaborate, so she did. "I fear something about him has altered, slowly, over time. I don't know what it is exactly but…"
She paused, waiting for the usual remark questioning her sanity from Mark, then remembered that this was William, and he'd listen without doubting her, no matter what. "It may sound…crazy…but I'm afraid this house is affecting him in some way. Some unnatural way that I can't explain or prove."
He was silent for several moments, nodding slowly to himself. "Something's been off about the old chap, that's for certain." He muttered, then turned to her to continue. "I've been itching to say something to you for awhile, but Mark's reminded me more than once that I'm simply a guest here. That meddling in others' affairs has landed me in trouble before." That last bit was said with barely constrained irritation.
"What do you mean?" She asked, frowning in confusion.
"Mark's been taking whatever's been frustrating him out on you. The damn idiot's got no right, seeing as you've done nothing against him." He gestured before him impatiently. "I've told him as much, but all he does is blow me off, telling me to mind my own business and leave matters to you and himself."
"I see." Celine replied, feeling a bit of comfort to know that William was on her side in all this. Not that she doubted it, but hearing it aloud still helped. However, she didn't want him getting the wrong idea. "I didn't tell you all this so you could fix it for me, you know. I appreciate you trying to help, but he is somewhat right. Mark and I can handle this ourselves."
William glanced at her in concern. "I know you can, I just…I want to make sure you're alright." Then, added as an afterthought. "Both of you, of course."
Celine leaned over and placed a hand on his knee, squeezing gently with a small smile. "I know. It's wonderful to have someone who cares about us as you do. Perhaps that's all we need to figure things out."
William had stared down at her hand when she touched him, then covered it with his own, squeezing back in response. "I trust you know what you're doing." He replied, all the conviction evident in his tone.
Celine honestly didn't know quite what she was doing, nor how she'd fix her marriage with Mark. That was all a bit over her head at the moment. How did one counteract the effects of whatever this mansion was doing to them? That was beyond her control, but perhaps she just hadn't been looking in the right place all this time. She'd have to do a bit more research on the matter.
Even so, the temporary relief of having a friend who understood was just as uplifting, and she leaned forward to place a chaste kiss, barely lasting the length of a heartbeat, to William's lips, finally standing and extracting her hand from his. "Thank you, William. I think I'll see myself inside. Good evening."
He said nothing more, but she could feel his gentle gaze at her back as she walked away, bringing a blush to her lips. How it came to be there, she'd never be able to admit. After all, she was a married woman. Such thoughts were the makings of a scandal, indeed.
Things had gone so terribly wrong. Perhaps it was all Celine's fault in the end, but her actions had been driven by a desperation for love, and the realization that whatever change had come over Mark was progressing. Things were only getting worse, and she saw no solution. It had all come to a head, but this wasn't how it was supposed to have turned out.
The letter detailing that she'd decided to leave was to be placed on the desk in the Master bedroom, waiting for him to find after he came back from his work in the study. Any given day, he'd be stuck in there for hours, doing god knows what. She'd made great pains to be out of the manor before he even realized she'd gone.
Only Gerald knew of her intentions, having been informed of her departure the night before. To Celine's surprise, he'd been unfazed by her announcement, and had merely wished her luck in whatever ventures she pursued afterwards. Of course, she had a sneaking suspicion he knew exactly where, or whom to be more accurate, she'd be going to. There wasn't much that got past Gerald, after all. He knew the house and it's secrets like the back of his hand.
Everything had been planned ahead, but the execution had been faulty. Mark had excused himself to his study, as usual. Celine waited five minutes, ensuring he was well and truly away from the Master bedroom by that time, and retrieved the suitcase she'd hidden under the bed. All of the things she'd need had been packed. There was nothing left for her here now.
Crossing to her dresser, she felt underneath her petticoats for the folded paper she'd prepared several days in advance. It was still crisp and folded neatly. She let out a breath, her heart beating faster in her chest. Carefully placing the paper on the table, she squared her shoulders and pushed through the door. She didn't feel the need to linger for too long, taking in the sight of the hallways.
Something must have caused Mark to return to the bedroom in the time after she left the letter. Some wildly incomprehensible oversight that Celine had failed to think of. She had no way of knowing that Mark had left his reading glasses in the bedroom, and had returned to retrieve them immediately after she departed the room. The fact remained that something had obviously gone wrong in her plan, because she was now stopped in the front parlor, Mark clutching the letter in his hand, eyes searching hers for some meaning from all this.
"Why." Was all he said, phrased more as a statement than a question. She'd expected to see anger, but his pupils were drowned with hurt and confusion, an all together more difficult mix to deal with. Celine swallowed the remorse that threatened to make her apologize, forcing her expression to remain blank.
"I can't do this anymore, Mark." Her voice came out surprisingly even for all the emotional turmoil that was happening within her.
There were several moments of tense silence, neither person quite sure what to say next. He was the one who broke first.
"Celine, you can't."
"I can, Mark. I am. Please step aside." She tightened the grip on her suitcase, but the words tumbled out of his mouth now, flowing with nothing stopping them.
"After everything we've been through, you leave?" He took a step closer, but she kept her distance by doing the same behind her. "Have I not provided you everything you've desired? Has it not been enough? What more could there be for me to give you?"
"Mark-"
He waved away the word, not finished. "Years, we've loved each other, Celine. Does that not mean anything to you? If this is because of some spat, then stay and we can work out a solution. Is that not what lovers do? Marriage means working through the bad times and coming out better, healed."
His words began to turn desperate, and despite her attempts at maintaining distance, Mark closed the space between them and gripped both of her shoulders, staring down into her face. The letter lay partially crumpled and forgotten on the floor behind him. Celine turned her face away, unable to cope with the amount of pain in his expression.
"It's more than that. There is no solution to this problem." She whispered.
"What problem? Tell me what it is that has you packing up your things." His hands slid upwards to cradle either side of her face, forcing her to look at him. "Anything can be fixed-"
"I don't…love you anymore." She forced the words through her lips, now fully committed to her actions. There was no going back from this, no way she could change her mind now. It was out there, and he knew. She was amazed she'd held back the tears that threatened to spill, and she hoped her face was still as blank as it had started out being. Better to look as if she were sure of herself.
Mark froze, uncomprehending the words that she spoke. "You…" He started, but was unable to complete the thought. Celine tore herself from his grasp, using the gap in his attention to briskly walk towards the door. She was only a few feet from being able to reach the handle, but Mark recovered in time to grab her forearm, holding her back.
"Celine, darling…" He no longer tried to hold back the pain in his voice. "Stay. I love you, please stay."
"Mark. Let me go. It's too late for this."
He wasn't listening, however, and simply turned her to look at him. "It's never too late. Give me time. Tell me how I need to change, and I'll do it. I'd do anything for you. I don't understand what you think I've done wrong, though I'm by all means no saint, but tell me how to fix this, Celine."
He was rambling on at this point, and as he continued, his words grew more desperate and indirect. "How will I go on without you? You are my everything. How will our friends go on? Nathaniel, Alice, they will miss you dearly. Damien, and even William-"
At the mention of his name, Celine couldn't prevent the damning flinch that accompanied it, subconsciously horrified that he'd found out the truth simply by saying his name. Her eyes flickered away from his gaze in defense, unable to bear looking him in the face of such a dangerous secret. Of course, Mark had no way of knowing up to that point about the relationship she'd formed outside of her marriage with the Colonel, but Celine's behavior in that split second had been the only evidence he needed.
As close as they were to each other, she knew he saw the spark of guilt in her eyes as soon as it formed, and the unintentional shame that briefly flickered across her face. Mark was no fool, she knew, and that fact was solidified when his grip on her forearm tightened painfully, a heavy silence following after.
Out of the corner of her eye she observed that his expression, so filled with pain and sorrow a moment ago, was now terrifyingly blank. Eyes empty, piercing and deep.
"…How long?" The question was asked so quietly, she barely heard. Still, while she knew in her heart she loved William, there was still guilt mixed in at the thought of turning her back to the man she'd been married to for so long. Celine couldn't bring herself to answer, until he jerked her arm to gain her attention.
"How long!?" He yelled, and the sudden outburst ripped the answer from her.
"A year." She replied evenly, without emotion. Her eyes slowly raised to meet his again, the false confidence allowing her to straighten her shoulders again in the face of his anger.
Mark released her arm from his grip, turning in agitation towards the decorative table that stood in the center of the front parlor. Then, with a roar of anger, he snatched the vase holding a lovely bouquet of flowers and hurled it as hard as he could against the wall, causing her to yelp from surprise and slight fear at the display of aggression. The glass pieces shattered into a hundred pieces, spilling dirt and petals everywhere, and she took a step back, closer towards the door, her knuckles white with strength against the suitcase handle.
"That BASTARD!" Mark cried, turning to the nearest mirror and punching it straight in the middle. The glass fractured all across it, and the sharpest pieces where his fist had contacted dug into his skin, causing a steady stream of blood to begin dripping from the wound and down the wall.
He huffed out uneven, heavy breaths, not seeming to feel the pain from his injured hand. Celine stood, not wanting him to think she'd always been a liar. Why she wanted him to know that, she wasn't sure, but a small part of her still cared for Mark. She didn't want to see him dig himself deeper into this downward spiral he was creating.
"Mark, there was a time when I loved you, but-"
"Enough!" He screamed, both in anguish and the newfound hatred for the man he once considered as close as a brother. Celine closed her eyes, deciding that to remain further would only worsen the damage. Picking up the suitcase once more, she faced the door once more and bid him a simple farewell. There was no reply, only the heavy pants of Mark's exertion as he stared bitterly into the broken mirror.
Without looking back, she left, both a feeling of relief and of dread falling on her shoulders. The aftermath of this would seal all of their fates, though she had no way of knowing that.
It hit her like a stone, the dread and uneasiness that hadn't marked her for years. Despite all the time since this feeling last overcame her, it was as familiar to her as the day she'd left that mansion. It stopped her dead in her tracks, and she knew that something terrible had befallen that manor.
The years since leaving Mark had seen her become older, wiser. She knew things now that the younger Celine could never have comprehended. Her eyes had been opened to a world not her own, and it gave her the answers she'd desired since marrying Mark. However, it also left her with many more questions that she couldn't quite solve.
The Seer turned her head North, as if the mansion was drawing her in even from miles away. The people milling around the town square showed no sign of feeling like something was off, that something had changed in the past few minutes. No one payed her any mind either, leaving her staring off into the sky, looking for something she couldn't see.
Another feeling of dread pulsed intensely through her, and she closed her eyes in an effort to ward it away. Something was wrong. That house, something had happened, and she may be the only one with enough knowledge on the matter to figure out what.
As much as the thought unnerved her, going back to the place she'd been so happy to escape from before, the temptation and thrill of finally knowing what evil wrought itself in that house was too great. Celine also had no desire to see Mark, or anyone else who resided there come to a terrible fate. Despite the rocky relationship they'd shared, seeing them hurt wasn't appealing to her.
She glanced around, finding a stationary taxi driver to the side of the road, reading a newspaper. She dug into her purse for some change and headed towards his car, abandoning the original errands she'd set out to do that day. There were more important matters to attend to.
Celine was certain, this house contained an intelligent evil. Exactly what it was would probably never be known, but it was definitely sentient. The district attorney's experience in the 'otherworld,' as Celine had coined the plane of existence she couldn't quite yet explain, had proved as much. They'd shaken with fear, but still come back from their encounter with information.
Things were much worse than she'd imagined. The subtle changes she'd witness through Mark so many years ago were accelerated, affecting these people in a matter of days, or even hours. The tension and evident fear she felt rippling through Damien, the uncertain panic that gripped the attorney, and Abe's determination to figure out the mystery at hand, Celine could feel them all.
She herself was a bit apprehensive as to how to fix everything that had gone wrong. The missing body was even more confusing, but there was nothing to be done about that. Her experience in matters of the supernatural was extensive however, and she had a wide range of methods to try in order to figure it out. All she needed now was some time alone.
"I-I need to stay with Celine." Damien said suddenly, defensive in the face of the suspicious detective. Celine turned to him, slightly insulted he thought she was that much of a damsel in distress. She was perfectly capable of handling herself.
"I don't need help, especially from you." She replied in a clipped tone, hoping her anger would discourage him from pressing. Damien had always been courteous, it was in his nature, but there were times when matters forced him to press past what was normally acceptable behavior. It seemed she had pushed him past that point now.
"Our friend is dead!" He shouted, and the fear in his eyes matched the intensity of her anger. She looked away, slightly ashamed at having spoken to him in that fashion. Damien sighed, the grip on his cane tightening. "I'm sorry. I just need answers to all of this." He gestured in the direction of the room Celine had emerged from earlier. "I already lost one friend today…I don't want to lose another."
Swallowing past the frustration, Celine worked out a compromise, hoping to end the matter and get on with her work. The more time they wasted talking, the worse events would grow to become. "Fine, but I need to stay here."
"Fine with me." He insisted, relieved that she'd at least let him remain with her.
The detective dismissively agreed to what they'd said, happy to continue his own investigation of the tragic events that had taken place here. Celine turned, hearing Damien follow behind her as she returned to the room she'd taken the attorney to. Damien closed the door behind them, and she sat back in her chair.
"What are you planning to do?" He asked skeptically. Unlike William, Damien had only just found out about Celine's affinity for the supernatural and occult. He was still coming to grips with the idea, and had no clue as to what all of the tarot cards and odd novelties were supposed to accomplish. He simply didn't believe in the stuff.
Celine ignored the slight undertone of doubt in his question, and prepared her board for another session. "The district attorney didn't go in far enough to the other side, but I know there are answers there. We just need to try again."
Damien placed his cane against the wall and sat opposite her, eyeing the board between them with uncertainty. "Are you sure this is safe?"
Rolling her eyes, the Seer finished splitting the deck of cards and began laying them out in another reading. "Damien, nothing is completely safe when it comes to the unexplained. But I've done this for years. I know what I'm getting into, and which precautions to take."
She stared pointedly at him when he opened his mouth to interject, knowing he was going to remark on the fact that he wanted her to stay safe, or something of that nature. He steeled his jaw and nodded minutely, accepting what she said with conviction. The fact that he was conceding to her having more knowledge in this situation was a start, but he'd have to be a bit more believing if this was going to work.
"I need you to relax. Now that you've decided to accompany me, you'll need to participate. Having an unanchored person in the same room as this can leave you open to danger." She explained, putting the last of the tarot cards down. "Take my hands."
Damien did as told, eyes still uncertain but trusting that she knew what she was doing. They joined hands across the table, and Celine breathed in a deep breath.
"Close your eyes, and don't open them until I say."
Again, he did as told and, satisfied that he would follow her instructions, Celine followed suit, concentrating on the heavy air around them, reaching out with her consciousness to take hold of that energy and use it to guide her where she was going. This time around, she'd see for herself what the attorney had experienced on the other side.
The usual feeling of floating grew deeper and deeper. The air in the small room grew colder, and when she opened her eyes again, she found herself in a pitch-black plane of existence. No colors or light of any kind could be found. After a moment, a fuzzy outline materialized to mark her consciousness truly entering this otherworld. The ground manifested beneath her feet, and she wandered a few paces in the direction before her.
"Mark." She called, her voice reverberating throughout the cavern of darkness. The uneasiness persisted, a faint work at the back of her mind, always pushing, pressing gently. She ignored it, suddenly whipping around to look at the new presence that had entered the domain. Shocked, the faint, fuzzy form of Damien appeared a distance away.
"What is this place, Celine?" He questioned, cowering when the sound of his own voice echoed at the loud volume.
She wondered how on earth he'd followed her here, having intended for him to remain in the physical plane while she traversed this otherworld, but he had somehow found his way here by himself. He must have followed her own energy, guided by the familiar essence and found himself here. She would worry about that later. Time here was short, and she had to find Mark.
"Mark, show yourself. I know you're in here somewhere." She called again, her gaze searching left and right for any sign of her previous lover.
Another sweep to her left suddenly revealed him standing some distance away. He was clad in his customary red robe, his back turned to the both of them. He gave no indication he'd heard her speak.
Relieved at having found him, Celine briskly walked towards him. "Mark, I need your help. Something terrible has happened and-"
"You weren't supposed to come back." He interrupted flatly, still facing away from them. His voice carried over the echo, however, clearly distinguishable to the two former friends that stood a ways behind him.
Her head shook in frustration. "Mark, what happened between us was years ago. I've moved on. It's unimportant now. The others-"
"Unimportant?"
The question came cuttingly, shock evident even in the single word. Celine shared a concerned glance with Damien, who'd remained quiet up to that point.
"I don't think you understand. It was everything."
At a loss for words, Celine watched in growing horror as Mark finally turned to regard them. His figure was much more distinct, refined, in that dark space than their own manifestations, and what they saw was gruesome.
It was definitely Mark, but his body was horribly discolored, disfigured. What appeared to be gunshot wounds in the side of his head and through the front of his robe still retained the blood. Dozens of stab wounds littered his body, the flesh left uncovered a motley of blues and blacks and yellows of old bruises.
"Dear God!" Damien cried out in disgust, taking a step backwards. He'd never seen such a terrible sight, nor did he think he ever would again. Celine tried looking away, but was mesmerized by the sheer gruesomeness of it all. She covered her mouth with one hand, unable to say much more. Mark ignored their repulsion, his stare fixed on Celine.
"None of this was meant for you, Celine. Despite everything you and…the Colonel have done to me, I never intended for you to get caught up in the mess. I still love you, after all."
The last bit was said almost in a chuckle, as if it all were some horrible joke.
"This was for him, and him alone. But you've dug yourself too deep." He shook his head sadly. "I can't continue to protect you selfishly."
"What are you going on about?" She cried, watching as he turned away again. None of what he was saying made any sense. It was as if he were taking blame for the events that had transpired. "Someone killed you, Mark."
"Indeed, the Colonel did. I made sure of it."
Damien spoke up for the first time, having no idea what was going on. "Talk sense, Mark. The Colonel? There's no way he-"
"Enough of this talk." He swung his head around to stare at them, a small smile creeping up his lips. "I wasn't sure what I should do with you. Neither of you had been accounted for. But I've decided."
In the span of a moment, Celine had gone from being confused as to what was unfolding, to feeling the most intense pain in her head she'd ever experienced. A cry of pain was ripped from her lips, and she crumpled to the ground, hands clutching at her head in a desperate attempt to ward off whatever was assaulting her.
"Celine!" Damien shouted in panic, dropping to the ground beside her. She could faintly feel his hands as they tried steadying her by her shoulders, but she squirmed and writhed in his grasp, eyes shut painfully tight as the mental assault grew more and more painful.
She screamed, something inside her head snapping. The agonizing sensation of being torn apart, bit by bit, lasted for several seconds but felt like years, then began to fade to a much more manageable throbbing over time. The chill had intensified, but she no longer felt her arms or legs. Or her face.
Blinking through her panic, she spotted Damien staring at her in horror…with Celine's own body cradled limply in his arms.
"Celine…" He whispered, eyes flickering back and forth between her and the lifeless form of flesh he was still holding onto. Damien flinched, seeing her body's eyes open, revealing an empty black iris. The body smiled sadistically, pushing itself up from Damien's arms to stand by itself. He scrambled backwards, too shocked by what was happening to speak.
Celine's body stretched it's arms, as if getting used to the sensation of being in a physical form. She began to understand that this was whatever resided in the house with them all these years. This was the darkness that had stalked them, watched them, and drove them mad. It now had a form, and it swung it's gaze to stare at her.
Mark stepped forward, addressing the Darkness, as Celine could only describe it as. "Give me his body."
The Darkness regarded Mark for a moment, then shifted it's piercing, oppressive gaze towards Damien. The sheer danger the creature exuded, even in such a deceptively harmless body, was enough to freeze him in place. The creature reached out a hand, and then Celine watched as Damien screamed, writhed and twitched in a similar fashion as she had moments earlier.
She reached out a red-colored hand, as if to try to stop what was happened, but she held no power here any longer. The hold on her body had been severed completely. She was simply a floating manifestation in this abyss of blackness, and that's all she'd remain. The Darkness had been much stronger than she'd thought, no doubt holding back it's power, and unleashing it all at once to render her useless. There was nothing she could do for Damien to prevent the same thing from happening to him, and it was her fault.
His screaming lasted some minutes, as if the Darkness was prolonging his suffering simply for the sake of doing so. Then, a blue blur began to manifest beside her, and Celine knew it to be Damien, or what was left of him anyways.
The screaming died away, his body going limp, and the blue blur took more distinction, until Damien's expression of pain could be discerned. Celine inched closer to him, trying to comfort him, but her red red simply passed right through him. There was no use in trying, and so Celine gave up.
A gasp caught her attention, and she came to realize that Mark was gone. Instead, Damien's body was moving, and she noticed the features molded slowly to become much more similar to Mark's than those of Damien.
"Finally…" She heard Mark mutter through Damien's lips, a relieved smile curling the corners.
And then he fell. The floor where he had been, indistinguishable from the black void that surrounded them all, simply gave way or disappeared entirely, because Mark dropped down below them and continued falling without even a scream, until he was lost from sight.
Celine swung her eyes back to where her body had been standing, but it too was gone. The quiet was oppressive. The emptiness squeezed in closer to the two blurred shapes, and Celine found themselves truly alone.
A/N- This was my take on what happened in that room with Celine and Damien. Who knows what really happened, but I'm sure it was something along these lines. Maybe.
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