Whispers from Beyond: Secrets of a Cursed Legacy

By Y. SIN

Debt-ridden Sarah and Hanna Wilson enter Colorado's Grave Hall, a dusty tomb riddled with secrets. What they find is far worse – a curse tied to stolen gold and a monstrous Lord demanding a bride: the family's daughter. Desperate to save Hanna, Sarah makes a heart-wrenching choice. She becomes the imposter bride, stepping into a nightmarish dance with the devilish Lord Edmund Grave. But survival comes at a cost. Can Sarah outsmart the curse and escape Grave Hall, or will her sacrifice unleash unforeseen consequences? Even if she escapes, will freedom truly be hers, or will the shadows of Grave Hall forever stain her soul?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Y. SIN
• Release date: Jun 26, 2024
• ISBN: 9798227690630

Book preview

By

Y. SIN

Chapter 1

Unexpected Inheritance

THE SHRILL RING OF my phone pierced the tranquility of our rooftop sanctuary. Sunlight, filtered through the makeshift greenhouse panels, cast dappled patterns on the worn wooden table where I hunched over a spreadsheet, battling a particularly stubborn financial projection. Our rooftop garden, a riot of herbs and blooming defiance crammed into a sliver of space above the cacophony of New York City, was our only haven.

The response that filtered up the rickety fire escape stairs was a high-pitched shriek that sent a jolt through me. Concern propelled me upwards faster than the elevator dared to attempt at this hour. I burst onto the rooftop to find Hanna, my bubbly sister, in a state of disarray that transcended her usual bohemian aesthetic. Her mismatched tapestry of clothing, a vibrant counterpoint to the city's perpetual gray, seemed to writhe with her agitation. Her hands trembled, the vibrant paints that usually adorned her fingers now smeared like war paint across her palms.

What's gotten into you? I demanded, my voice laced with a concern honed by years of navigating the city's unforgiving underbelly.

Her laughter, usually a bright melody in our cramped existence, came out choked and hollow. We got a call, she gasped between breaths, from JK Legal Services. Lawyers.

The word hung heavy in the air, a foreign element in the vocabulary of survivors like us. Debt collectors, yes. But lawyers? A shiver danced down my spine, a stark contrast to the sweltering city heat. Skepticism battled with a flicker of morbid curiosity as I pressed for answers. A law firm? Why? Did something happen?

No... Yes... she stammered, her voice tight. We got something better! Remember Grand Aunt May? The one who sent us cryptic postcards and made that unsettling visit after the... after the... Her voice trailed off, a single tear tracing a glistening path down her cheek.

A memory surfaced, a fragment from a time shrouded in grief. A slightly unsettling relative who had waltzed into our lives after tragedy, showering us with affection and cryptic postcards featuring snow-capped peaks and sprawling, seemingly abandoned, mansions. We hadn't heard from her in years. The silence had been unnerving, but a welcome respite from the unsettling dreams that had plagued me after her visit.

Why did something happen to her, I asked, the question heavy with a dread I couldn't explain. After our parents, she was the only remaining tether to our past, a ghostly connection to a childhood overshadowed by loss.

Apparently, Hanna continued, her voice catching, she passed away. And... she paused for dramatic effect, a flicker of something unsettling crossing her eyes, she left us everything!

My breath hitched. Everything? What do you mean? The question came out strangled, a premonition of unease coiling in my gut.

Well, she conceded, a strange edge creeping into her voice, not exactly everything. She settled those suffocating debts of ours, which feels like a financial miracle. But the big news is, she left us her property in Colorado! A house and land, near Snowmass Village, in Capital Peak!

Capital Peak. The majestic mountain that dominated our childhood nightmares, a place shrouded in perpetual mist in the faded photographs Aunt May had sent. Could it be true? Could our life change so abruptly? A new life, a fresh start, nestled in the shadow of the mountain that haunted my dreams?

A complex mix of excitement and terror bubbled in my chest. This inheritance was a lifeline, a chance to escape the confines of this relentless city. But leaving everything we knew behind was a terrifying prospect. More importantly, the mention of Capital Peak filled me with a dread I couldn't articulate.

As I looked at Hanna, her eyes shining with a feverish light that sent another shiver down my spine, I knew this was an adventure we couldn't refuse. The Colorado mountains awaited, and with them, a future as unexpected and unsettling as the call that had shattered the peace of our rooftop haven.

Chapter 2

The Journey Begins

TWO WEEKS. FOURTEEN measly days since the lawyer's call yanked us from the familiar grind of debt collection and sandwiches. We were no longer Sarah and Hanna Wilson, harried survivors clinging to the bottom rung of the economic ladder. We were potential heiresses, whisked away to a world of unimaginable wealth by the sudden demise of a distant relative, Aunt May.

Packing our cramped apartment felt less like a fresh start and more like a desperate escape. The lawyer's smile, glimpsed through a screen, had been unsettlingly oily, and his words about managing the property held a veiled threat.

Did you discuss the keys with them? Hanna asked, her normally vibrant eyes flitting nervously between me and the overflowing boxes.

Yeah, I mumbled, the photo frame in my hand trembling. They said everything was prepped for our arrival. But a sliver of unease lodged itself in my throat.

Hanna, the optimist, scoffed. Lawyers. Always with their hidden agendas. Probably buddies with some land-grabbing developer, itching to snatch up Aunt May's place for a song.

Her words echoed the unease I couldn't shake. Still, a spark flickered in her eyes as she spoke of Aunt May's estate. The childhood stories of a grand house nestled in the mountains, a place of escape and wonder, surfaced in my memory.

The packing became a blur – art supplies shoved into boxes, clothes crammed into overflowing suitcases. Each cast-off item felt like a severed thread, leaving us adrift. Our haven, once cramped but familiar, now felt suffocating. Stepping out into the city's clamor, a wave of surrealism washed over me. We were leaving everything we knew behind, hurtling towards a future as uncharted as the mountains on the horizon.

Monty, our ever-reliable friend, loaded our belongings into his SUV. As we pulled away, the cityscape receded, replaced by a desolate landscape cloaked in an unnatural twilight. The air grew thick and heavy, the familiar scent of exhaust fumes replaced by a cloying sweetness that clung to the back of your throat like a spiderweb.

The radio, usually a refuge from the city's din, sputtered static. Then, a voice, a guttural rasp, cut through the noise, speaking in an unfamiliar language. It was fleeting, but unnerving, leaving a prickling fear on my skin.

By nightfall, we arrived at a deserted gas station slash motel on the outskirts of a one-horse town. The lone attendant, a gaunt man with eyes like tarnished silver, barely acknowledged us. The flickering neon sign cast grotesque shadows that danced across the peeling paint of the pumps, and the air thrummed with an unseen tension.

Existential crisis much? Hanna