Genevieve's footfalls boomed through the house as she raced down the staircase, expertly navigating the darkness. The scream reverberated in her head, her very bones quivering with the aftershock. Whatever embarrassment or confusion she entertained moments ago was set aside. The resident ghost wielded horrendous power, a specter more diabolical than any phantom her wildest imagination could devise. The shadow princess clung to her vendetta against the Westerfell line and there was no predicting what the ghost would do. She had to get to Stephen before it was too late.
"Stephen, what happened? What's the matter?"
A head popped up from behind the couch, a blur of shadows as Stephen responded to her concern.
"Nothing. I am fine."
"I heard a scream."
"It didn't come from me and I heard nothing."
Genevieve could not shake the chill creeping down her spine, getting the sneaking suspicion the shadow princess was up to no good. Without warning a massive bolt of lightning ripped through the house as the door to the hallways slammed shut with such force it sent Stephen scrambling off the sofa in surprise. Genevieve reflexively grasped the doorknob and pushed with all her strength, but the knob did not turn and the door would not budge. Stephen, realizing their dilemma, tried his luck, but to no avail.
"Stephen, wait," she ordered, laying her hand on his arm. They stood in silence listening to the eerie humming as if a woman was rocking a baby to sleep. "We have more pressing matters than the ghost," Stephen announced, voice tight with mounting panic.
Genevieve followed his gaze to the floor. At first she thought it was her imagination that her hand against the wood felt warmer, but grey wisps of smoke crawled along the floor like children's exploring fingers. The house was on fire. They were trapped.
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