Notes: Big thanks to WargishBoromirFan for beta-reading this monster and big thanks to my readers and reviewers. :3 I'm not sure if I managed to reply to every review, but worry not, I'll check it out later. Also, I would like to suggest listening to this playlist as you guys read through the third chapter. Big thanks and kisses to you all! :D

www . youtube playlist?list = PLcn3x7jk5D4sqye7BUxBjKRBsoy 5_08OZ&feature=mh_lolz


Spirited Away

III

The mansion's inside was just as decrepit as outside.

There was no lighting on the inside; Qui-Gon had to pick his torch to illuminate the area. The light contrasted eerily with the darkness, it cast over shadows in the walls and floors that trembled against the light. Dust and cobwebs covered every inch of the wooden floor and cracked ceiling, the walls were cracked and stained, the paint was peeling, and the wallpaper was rotting. Cold air seeped through the cracks and through the small gaps of the floor, the wind was howling and there was the sound of steady thumping coming from the upper floors.

Qui-Gon did not like this at all, especially the disturbance he could feel from the Force.

He supposed that the dead house would bear no presence, yet King's Fort felt alive. The light of living beings shone in the desolate home and the Force shone so blindingly that Qui-Gon had to slam his mental shields to keep the assault of light away; the air felt alive when it shouldn't be. The home was too decrepit and too dead for it to bear any living presence, yet Qui-Gon could feel through the Force that it was otherwise. What made it worse was that almost all these presences felt young.

Then the atmosphere felt wrong just as well. From all sides, Qui-Gon felt something pushing against him, trying to crush and overwhelm him. It was not the dark side, but it felt as if he was thrust in a crowd and he's trying to get out. He was relieved for having the forethought to strengthen his shields in the Force as he had no idea how his mind would accept the heavy presences that tried to beat him senseless.

There was the feeling of dread too. The air felt wrong and too cold, there was a clear picture in front of Qui-Gon's eyes, but a translucent film washed over it so that Qui-Gon did know if he could really see it clearly or it was just an illusion. He could see the Force flowing in the house, twisting and turning and spreading out in complicated passage ways. He could almost feel how the Force had to flow through an artificial path that crisscrossed every door, window, and room in the building. There was an epicenter, yet it was heavily obscured by the paths and the only way through was to go through the networks. To disrupt the network would cause it to fall apart and every presence it had amassed over the years would be sucked into the epicenter, but they wouldn't be released into the Force. Every beacon of light that shone in the oppressive house would be trapped in the very center that sustained the structure. They would find no peace and they would never leave the place ever again.

He definitely hated this situation, and he already had a sneaking suspicion that these presences came from the victims of Quiet Cradle. This was the reason why they all felt empty and void of life, yet they continued on as if they were truly alive. He could even feel that the presence that took them was still active and continued to search for more victims to lure into its trap. Even now, he felt that he should turn tail and get Obi-Wan away from here and let the people deal with these on their own. However, by his duties as a Jedi Master, he must help these people. He also gave his word to help, so he would. Though he could only hope that it wouldn't cost Obi-Wan's life.

He took a deep breath and stepped forward; the wood creaked beneath his weight. It echoed in the deep silence, yet it did not deafen Qui-Gon from the steady thumping coming from the upper floors. He had to wonder if there was a basement, because the wood felt off and a musty smell wafted from them. He waved his torch around the walls, looking for anything of note. He gathered his unease and tried to release it to the Force, yet he felt the oppressive silence greeting him. He quickly retreated and kept the growing apprehension within his shields.

Looked like it was going to be a long day.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"What do you mean?" Obi-Wan's eyes were wide and there was a hint of fear and curiosity in them.

"Lad, he used to 'ave a body, now…" Gordon looked ten years older then and Obi-Wan felt the heaviness clogging the atmosphere. Grief and pain were etched freshly on Gordon's face, yet his eyes shone with remembrance.

"Lily wasn't from here; married 'er from next town. We used to live t'ere, but we 'ad to move 'ere because we 'ad no fill. There was Mary, Gerard, David, t'en Tristan. M'boy Trista, barely a'ay f'om 'is ma's bosom. I was born 'ere, so… I knew. I knew 'bout tha' curse. Yet I let Lily come anyway, neve' mind that we 'ad a lad barely five," Gordon took a deep breath and reached for his coat, he took a pipe out and a box of matches. Obi-Wan could smell sickly sweet, yet bitter residue from a strange scent the pipe released. Gordon lit it and inhaled and blew out the intoxicating smoke.

"If you we'e born 'ere, you'd neve' see 'er 'ouse. It was on our first night, I checked if Gerard was there." Gordon took a deep breath within the pipe; his eyes were alit with loss. "I didn't know where ta look, but Lily… Lily… She can see the mansion; she saw 'is footprints. She fo'owed 'im, then… then…" Gordon hung his head in anguish, but his tears had long dried and his sorrow numbed with time.

Obi-Wan did not speak; he bowed his head and let the older man be relieved of his grief. Gordon did not speak, the past few weeks had been a painful reminder of what he had lost, but he still needed to tell Obi-Wan what happened to the old victims. Whatever happened to the children, Obi-Wan hoped it wasn't worse than dying.

"They we'e both 'ere by mornin', but Lily… she ain't t'a same. She saw sumthin', it ate a'ay at 'er, she neve' tol' us what she saw. She was losin' it, then… Gone… Gerard, gone fo'eve'. He wasn't dead, jus' gone… It was a yea' eve' since that bloody fo't. We neve' found 'im, we didn't even t'y. I—"

"Pa! Pa! Where's ma?" Both turned towards the inn's door. A woman in her mid-twenties wearing heavy clothes, her dark hair tied in a bun, and her large blue eyes shone with worry. Her hands looked rough and calloused, and her shoes were worn and old. She looked a lot like Tristan, bearing the same small nose and plump cheeks. Obi-Wan thought she was pretty and he blushed.

"Mary! You'e not with you' ma? Tristan was suppo'ed to getcha and Ma. Then, wh'e a'e they?" Gordon rose from his seat, alarmed. Mary shook her head, worried as well.

"I was supposed to help her bathe, but she wasn't in her room. Are you sure you sent Tristan to check on her?" Gordon was about to reply when the front door opened. Obi-Wan wondered why her accent sounded different from Gordon and Tristan's; it sounded very Deep-Core and less butchered. All three turned towards the door, waiting for someone to enter.

Obi-Wan paled and ducked, hoping that the intruder did not see him. Lily walked inside; her eyes were blank and she was muttering incomprehensibly. She looked as if she were drifting instead of walking; slowly, she went up the stairs, muttering a few curses and ignoring everyone in the room.

Mary sighed and sat down with a wary expression on her face; Gordon coughed and sat down next to his daughter.

"We're really sorry you had to see Ma like that. Tristan did mention her assaulting you," Mary said with a rueful smile.

Obi-Wan blushed and looked down; he peered up and met Mary's eyes. "It's alright. I should have been more careful."

Gordon coughed and stood up; a strange expression was on his face. "I bette' look fo' Tristan. If his ma's outside, he prob'ly follo'ed 'er." He walked towards the counter and grabbed a thick coat and draped it over himself. He grabbed a cap next and quickly left the inn, a worried expression plastered on his face. He almost slammed the door when he exited the building.

Mary was frowning, looking at the closed door. Obi-Wan fidgeted. The air around him felt heavy and awkward and he did not know what to say.

"Tristan visits the mansion, ever since he turned thirteen." Obi-Wan's eyes widened in alarm at Mary's statement. "He isn't very worried about disappearing too… But he is too old to be taken. Sooner or later, he'll stop seeing it, and he will never return."

"Why?" Obi-Wan asked, curious and worried about his new friend. The older woman smiled at him softly and clasped her fingers together.

"Well, Ma had gone mad long before Tristan could utter his first word. So, he never knew what it was like growing up with a mother. Pa had to take care of him, while Ma never stopped mourning Gerard. I… guess he wondered and missed her, and maybe he was a little envious of us. For having memories of a loving mother while he never knew what she was like without the madness."

Obi-Wan was taught that attachment was against the Code, and it a lot had gone down the dark side because of it. Though he wondered, what made Jedi different from other people? Most normal people were allowed attachments and it was said that not all became power-hungry, lust-driven, hateful monsters. Then again, they did not hear the call the Dark Side of the Force which was why Jedi were not allowed. Still, Obi-Wan couldn't help but wonder…

Though, he was certain that Tristan's lack of respect towards his mother probably was rooted in resentment over the fact that she was not capable of caring for him as she did with his older siblings. As troubling as their history was, Obi-Wan needed to well… Find as much information as he could from the Hewleys.

From what he gathered, the child disappeared overnight, then some time would pass before they disappeared for good. Natives of the village could not find the mansion, but foreigners could.

Panic rose in Obi-Wan and he quickly reached for his comlink and contacted Qui-Gon.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

He wasn't alone. There was someone here, and Qui-Gon wasn't sure if it was alive or not.

The life thrumming in the house was overwhelming and bright; his harmony with the Living Force had to tone down and he had to rely on his physical senses to observe so that his surroundings would not overwhelm him.

He was checking the dining room. The mansion wasn't overtly large; however, it did have plenty of rooms. There was a crudely drawn map in the hall, but it had plenty of notes scrawled on it. There were symbols on the sides of the paper that Qui-Gon found peculiar and strange. It all seemed like a jumbled mess, with lists of items and locked doors.

King's Fort had three floors, sans the attic and basement. There was a greenhouse built on the side that lead from the parlour that was three stories high and also served as a function room or ball room for special occasions. The parlour was on the left side of the house, and it led to the library and study. The dining hall was parallel to it and it led towards the kitchen, and the kitchen led towards the basement and servant's quarters. The basement had a gallery and a pantry.

A large set of stairs led to the second floor, but it wasn't completely closed off by the ceiling. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, and railings were built on the landing's sides. There was a music room, a nursery, and a liquor room. There was a spiral staircase in the middle of the hall that led to the third floor. The third floor had two bed rooms and a master's bed room. There were two bathrooms on the third floor, and a passage leading to the attic. The attic had its storage room and a workshop.

Qui-Gon could see almost half of all the doors in the home were marked as locked on the map, but he was willing to check them later. However, what he found as strange was the energy surrounding the house. It wasn't exactly the Force, but it… held the decrepit building in a peculiar way that Qui-Gon felt apprehensive to disturb them. He did feel that there were focal points randomly placed around that fit on the kinks of the network that entombed King's Fort.

The dining hall was old and smelled horrible. The chairs were piled on a corner, broken and smashed, with shards and splinters scattered around the floor. The curtains still hung on the windows, but they look more like thin, moth-eaten rags that the heavy velvet they used to be. Food, or what used to be food, was still on the table, but rodents and other pests either consumed it or turned it into their homes. There was a horrid smell in the air that was a mix of dead wood, rotting garbage, and a sickly sweet substance that was a little familiar to Qui-Gon.

In the dining hall, the door towards the kitchen was strange. It was boarded, but it wasn't wood that covered the entrance. A strange and crude-looking mechanism made with pulleys, levers, and chains barely covered with metallic casing was bolted on the door. There were four boxes on the center with thin slots on top, alternating between black and red that had four symbols etched on the surface: the symbols were a heart, a spade, a clover, and a diamond. There was also a keyhole on top of the boxes, set on the very center. Through the keyhole, Qui-Gon could see the gears and chain-pulleys connecting each part of the mechanism to the other. The handle wasn't fully out, and the Jedi had a feeling that it would open when the items needed are inserted. There was a short message in basic though, and it gave enough clues to Qui-Gon.

'Experts only!'

A line of thought began to form in his head when he heard a loud crash just outside the room. He quickly rushed towards the source, his hand already above his lightsaber and ready to defend. What he found was unexpected, but Qui-Gon couldn't help but be surprised to see someone following him.

It was a boy, barely out of his teenage years. He had dark hair and blue eyes and Xanatos came to the very forefront of Qui-Gon's mind so suddenly that he had to blink three times just to be sure. The only thing that kept Qui-Gon from whipping out his lightsaber and attacking the boy was the fact that his clothes were too ragged for Xanatos to wear.

"N 'ccident, I swea'. I tha' was clumsy of me." The boy's accent was too thick, butchered, and too rural to be comparable to Xanatos's elegant and cultured tone and intonation.

"Well, I believe an explanation would better suit us," Qui-Gon replied. The boy grinned sheepishly and shucked off his jacket and shirt.

"'M Tristan Hewley; pleasu'e to meet'cha, Miste' Jedi." The boy held a hand up and Qui-Gon shook it.

"Obi-Wan mentioned you the night before," Qui-Gon frowned. "This place is dangerous for you; you should return home. Your parents are probably worried."

"No! I mea', I… I wen' 'ere befo'e, I fo'got somethin', and I 'ave to giddit back," Tristan's eyes darted around. He was obviously lying, and Qui-Gon would be more than glad to haul his rear outside.

"I'm afraid I can't let you stay. Go home; you don't need to be here." Qui-Gon added a Force-induced compulsion on his voice, but Tristan looked unconvinced in the slightest.

"No." Tristan was scowling darkly, but he refused to meet the Jedi's gaze. Qui-Gon repeated the command, but his efforts were met with a dark glare.

He felt the weight of age catching up, he supposed that he couldn't postpone his own investigation and he really should just let the boy come. The Force made no indication if his decision was for the better. Or worse.

"Very well then, let's go." Qui-Gon handed Tristan his own flashlight.

The boy stood close to Qui-Gon; all his bravado and courage were gone under the oppressive atmosphere of the abandoned home. Tristan pulled his jacket closer. His discomfort at the unnerving silence rolled off in waves in the Force. He found a way to keep it bay within the next few moments.

"Sir, I was wonderin' why Obi-Wan wasn't very happy to see ya. Though, I've been wonderin' how he knew you were lookin' for 'im. Is dat a Jedi thin'?" Qui-Gon paused; they stood before the threshold of the parlor.

Usually, natives from primitive worlds tend to be superstitious and regard Jedi either as cultists or a strange supernatural sect. There were times that they could not grasp the concept of the Force, always in search for an invisible and invincible deity that was responsible for a great deal of life that surrounded the galaxy. If it wasn't a singular deity, a collection of deities would represent each being brought forth by the Force. There were a lot of things people did not understand, but Qui-Gon would still do the best he could to explain to Tristan the concept of his training bond with Obi-Wan.

"Obi-Wan and I have a training bond. It is a mental link between a master and padawan that allows us to read each other's mind and emotions. I called him yesterday through it." Tristan's face was scrunched in concentration. When he did not respond, Qui-Gon continued. "It's very similar to reading a book, except it begins as blank and letters slowly form that spell out the condition of the other."

"Oh. I think I giddit now," Tristan paused, awkwardness flared from him. "Dis room su'e is dusty…" The boy was blushing, Qui-Gon noted.

Dusty was an understatement. The whole parlor was in shambles; the carpet was torn, stains were on the walls and the floor, furniture was overthrown, papers and other clutter were scattered on the floor, the fireplace was boarded up, and the windows were missing panes. When Qui-Gon looked down, he noticed the dust on the floor was disturbed. Small footprints were everywhere – it led to the greenhouse and library, then they all backtracked to the main hall. Perhaps more answer lay within the upper floors, then?

He thought about the door in the kitchen. He was a little familiar with the planet's version of sabaac. He did know that a lot of the natives use four classes of cards – 13 per set – it would have three officials, nine numbered cards, and an 'Ace'. Ace was also synonymous to 'Experts' - it also used the symbols and color scheme on the door - it was apparent that only cards can be inserted on those slots, meaning that they should look for aces and a key. Perhaps the key would have a sign that would be different then? If not, they could scour the house for keys and try it on the door. If they found nothing, then they could try to return next time.

"What can I do ta help Miste' Qui-Gon?" The Jedi thought about it, he prodded the Force for any warnings. Once again, it remained elusive and gave no indication that it was a harmful activity.

"Alright, try to look for something important. The door in the kitchen needs four cards." Tristan raised an eyebrow. "There is a strange door in the kitchen, and it is in need of strange keys. Try looking for aces." Tristan shrugged and made a beeline towards the left side of the room, the side with the door leading to the library and study.

Qui-Gon shook his head and approached the fireplace. There was soot above the stone, and there were a few pieces of paper stacked on top. Curious, the Jedi picked up the papers and shook the ashes off. It was peculiar to see the contents written in Basic instead of the planet's curved alphabet, even if some were blurred beyond recognition; it also included strange symbols and figures. The edges of the paper were a little torn and yellowed, but one side of each of them looked more like they had been ripped instead of weathering away. It might have come from a tome – a very old tome.

'The —world was once within our —. Spirits and men— with one —, men stood before the—of—, angels and—fought in—. Then a great—which then— now we stand—. However, men have always and had and— will be resilient. We may have—it, but still it lives within—. We have called it a thousand— and a thousand more. The very essence of the Old —remains, yet men continue to— for it, in its name, and in its glory. In order to attain the Truth, man must first —.' Beneath it, there was a drawing of men bowing to a gigantic man seated on a throne -some of the details showed that the man was glowing. Qui-Gon flipped it; it wasn't blank, but it was a stark contrast to the page he first laid his eyes on.

'Man will bring forth our—! We bear no — and eternal — is in our midst! The price of— is —, and we will pay for it in full. The blood of our — will not — our rapture! Our burdens are —and will always be. In our suffering, we gain our —. We will not be —. 'There were sentient beings that were humanoid in appearance. However, only a few have disturbed Qui-Gon on first appearance. The drawing beneath the passage was that of a being with the body of a man, with the face of man, yet the back was goat-like. It was a sketch, but the expression on its face was life-like and if Qui-Gon did not know any better, it looked real. The face was twisted into a vicious snarl, rotting fangs dripped with saliva, and some of the skin looked diseased in festering.

He did not know what prompted him- by the Force perhaps, but that was a little debatable. Qui-Gon pocketed the piece of paper. The other pages bore similar subjects of the first passage, but there was nothing more to it. He wasn't familiar with the beliefs, but it unnerved him.

"What'cha think dis is?" Tristan was right behind him and he almost poked Qui-Gon's eye with a statuette the size of a finger- it was a symbol of the planet's more polytheistic deities before they shifted to monotheism; it was made in the image of the Mother of the Heavens. "It looked a bi' like tha ones from Mary's books. Like tha idols pagan worshipped instea' of God."

"It seems that you're right. It is a figure based on the image of the Mother of Heaven." The Force gave a hummed, urging Qui-Gon to take the figure; he needed it, the Force was telling him. 'Did it guide Tristan?' Never mind that. He followed its will; he took the offered stone idol and put it inside a small pouch on his utility belt. The Force hummed in contentment at the Jedi's obedience. Then it quieted once again. "Let us hold on to it for now."

Qui-Gon remembered the thumping he heard the moment he stepped inside. Was it louder? He tuned it out and ignored it for most of the part. Now he realized how quiet it had gone inside the house, and the thumps were the only noise besides his and his companion's breathing. Should he take note of it and investigate it now? He prayed for guidance from the Force, but it remained quiet. Blast it.

"Alrigh' then." The teenager was looking at him strangely, but the boy shook his head and resumed the search.

There was a box near the door to the greenhouse; it was very dusty, but it was relatively intact. It simple compared to the lavishness of the house, or supposed lavishness if it were in better conditions. The keyhole was missing, and the hinges looked ready to fall apart. Qui-Gon neared it and knelt down; he lifted the lid off and picked up the contents. It contained a key, a card, and three astrological symbols. The Force flared to life and urged Qui-Gon to take them all. The Jedi frowned; he understood the need of the playing card, but not the other items. He wondered why the Force was guiding him to pick up the other strange knick-knacks, but he supposed that it had a good reason to guide him like that. He stored them all inside his belt.

"Miste' Jinn! You oughta see dis!" Said Master looked over his shoulder. The boy was holding up a very old framed photograph. A woman wearing an elaborate gown with an elegantly dressed boy stood side by side in front of the house, but their faces were scratched away and there was a message written with fading brown ink. It was written in the Albian. "It says 'Third Day – March 4'. Eh? I don't giddit."

Qui-Gon did not know what it meant either, but he made note of the cryptic words. They might need it later, so he would keep this bit of information at the back of his mind. The Force hummed gently; it was guiding Qui-Gon away from the parlor. They wouldn't find anything of importance here, now; another location awaited them. The library felt like a good place to go next.

Tristan suddenly whipped his head around. "Didja heart that?"

Qui-Gon frowned. There was the thumping and their footsteps, but nothing more. "I didn't hear anything, except for the rhythmic pounding below us."

Tristan shuddered and a flicker of fear passed through him. "Sorry 'bout that. Must'ave been the win'."

A lot of strange things are afoot, and he could feel the boy's paranoia increasing with the sudden auditory illusion. Wind blew and the reek of rotting wood permeated the air. That could have been with the boy heard. There was the feeling that it wasn't right, but… The Jedi did not know what to make of it, but he kept that tidbit on the back of his mind.

"Let's go then." Tristan huddled next to Qui-Gon.

The library's door was open; the carpet was stained black, the wallpapers were peeling, and the shelves were destroyed. Books littered the floor, and a lot of them were destroyed. Only a few objects were spared from the destruction and death that filled the mansion, and those were the first things Qui-Gon approached.

"There was a gypsy once, he was a fortu'e telle' too. He 'ad cards like dis." Tristan picked up said object. It held the picture of a queen in regal clothing. "Mary said he was good at predictin' the morrow, I remembe' askin 'im about our crops once. He said we'd 'ave famine, he left a few days befo' it."

"Hmm. I'll pocket this for now, we might need it later."

There was a coffee table at the center of the room, an envelope lied on top. Qui-Gon made his way through the littered books and splintered wood, and then he picked up the envelope and tore it open carefully. The papers inside were intact, even if they looked like as if they were ripped from a book; their passages were in basic and they were thankfully comprehensible.

'March 1
Dear John,
I have a lot of things to tell you, my dear brother. Forgive me
, for Albion does not have any datapads or holos. I just returned to this planet after receiving a message from my old husband. I would never had known that he was already dead for a year, had not one of the natives from an old village I visited recognized me. I had conceived his child, but we left with the most bitter of relations a year after the boy was born, ten years ago. All he had left was Arthur.

It was hard, I never wanted to leave my son, but I could not stand that man! Forgive me for being foolish enough to marry him, I should have known that our differences run deep and love did not bind us. Lust had, to my shame, prompted me to marry him. However, I loved my son, my Arthur.

I don't know what to do with him. He is a very quiet boy, and he recoils whenever I am near. It is partly my fault. Derrick still left pain and gaping wounds in my heart, and I fear that it may have affected how I treat Arthur. I held it him at arm's length for I fear my love is growing by the day as I gaze in his oceanic eyes. This fear of loss made me irrational, now my own blood and flesh could not even trust me. I cannot not treat him how a mother treats her child, no matter how I wish to. It pains me each day to see him fear me and consider me a stranger. I wish to see him smile with pure joy instead of look down in subservience as if I am a disciplinary matron. I do not want that! I wish for love from my son!

I don't know what to do.

With love,
Irene'

There was a bitter taste in his mouth, and his lips felt dry and cracked. Somehow, the letter hit a little too close to home and it left a nasty taste in its wake. There was a heavy lump in his throat and a pang in his heart. Irene's dilemma was too familiar and it left a lot of questions instead of giving answers. He didn't have the time to reflect on this situation, other than intruding on the personal life of someone else. He pocketed the letter.

"Pretty sad, tha' one. Must'ave been 'ard for Arthur." Qui-Gon did not answer.

The Force silently comforted him and Qui-Gon released his grievances to it. There was nothing else to find in this room. He thought of heading towards the library next, but the Force flared in warning so harshly that it almost tore a crack in his shielding. He'd save the study for later; the greenhouse should be their next destination. The Force shrieked again in a warning that almost made Qui-Gon physically stumble in surprise. Then the second floor should be alright then?

When the Force gave no more warnings of impending doom, Qui-Gon spoke. "Let's go up."

Tristan turned to him in surprise. "Huh? We didn't check out tha study yet!"

The older man shook his head. "I don't think there are any other things of interest on this floor." The boy frowned, but he did concede. It was a good thing the teen knew when to pick his battles.

The two backtracked from the library towards the main hall. They stopped in front of the stairs. The stripped chandelier loomed ominously over them, and the landing of the second floor was definitely unwelcoming and ready to fall apart. Qui-Gon shook his head, might as well get this over with. When he took the first step, the wood creaked against his weight, and both cringed at how loud it sounded.

"I thi'k it'll fall." Yet Tristan took the next step.

"Let's hope it doesn't." Then they climbed.

The first place he had in mind was liquor room, and the Force was quiet in Qui-Gon's decision. Whether it was a good thing or a bad thing remained debatable. It was on the left side of the floor, near the spiral staircase. The door was missing and Qui-Gon could see the interior from where he and Tristan stood.

"Tha's a lot of booze, I wo'der if tha lady of tha home was pissed mos' of tha time."

"It may have come from the previous inhabitants after the original owner."

The liquor room was intact, even the bottles of alcoholic beverages were neither looted nor broken. It could have been called clean if it wasn't full of dust and cobwebs. Shelves full of liquor lined the walls and there was a small round table in the center with three chairs around it; a bottle of cognac with a glass next to it was on top. Not even the windows were boarded, and there were no random clutter on the floor. What caught Qui-Gon's eye was the tiny statuette on top of a card. Other than those two, there was nothing else of interest.

"Dat's tha God of Death, and dat's 'nother Tarot card!" The boy strode excitedly towards the table.

A sudden chill crawled down Qui-Gon's spine and the impulse to enter the room with Tristan filled him. He obediently followed it, and then the chill was gone. It was definitely something to think about. Suddenly, the notion they were alone was suddenly becoming less likely. When he will start feeling the thousand eyes behind his head then?

"Alright, let's start looking." Then they began to snoop around. Qui-Gon began to look at one of the shelves on the left side of the room. A small strip of white beneath a bottle quickly caught Qui-Gon's eye; he lifted the bottle and picked it up. Once again, it was written in Basic.

'Gone, I never had a chance. He's gone… He's all I have left… Gone… Gone… Gone— It's all their fault! They could have saved him! He's gone because of them!'

It was shorter than the other two, but Force whispered that it was significant. It was a small piece to a big picture that the Jedi maverick has yet to see.

Crash!

Qui-Gon turned towards Tristan, and the boy was shuffling away from a mess of glass and alcohol to his side. He was cursing angrily beneath his breath.

"What happened?" Qui-Gon prompted; his eyes narrowed slightly.

"I t'ought I 'eard sumone laughin', startled me."

Was the boy suffering from delusions perhaps? The Force gave him a negative answer. That did not bode well. Perhaps they weren't really as alone as they would like to think. The Force hummed; there was nothing to be found in this room.

"There's nothing here." Tristan nodded. The boy was trembling as they both left the room. They headed towards the music room next.

The door to the music room had a large plate-like device on the center. There were six holes positioned circularly, but they were paired and distanced evenly. There were finger-sized figures inserted on them, and now Qui-Gon had a clue on what to do next. He recognized the moon goddess side by side with the god of sun, the goddess of love was next to the god of war, the god of the sea stood alone, and the Father of Heaven was solitary as well. Qui-Gon fished his utility belt for the statuettes; he inserted the God of Death next to the God of the Sea, and then he slid the Mother next to the Father.

There were clicking sounds coming from the plate then the door creaked open.

The music room was surprisingly intact as well; it was furnished almost sparingly. A piano was placed near a boarded window, and a dusty sheet covered it. There was a cello propped up at one corner, and a table was next to it – it had a violin and viola case on top. The walls were lined from top to bottom with mirrors, and the floor was once polished wood. There were footprints inside.

Tristan whipped his head again; his eyes were wide and shock rippled through the Force from him. "Did'ya 'ear that? The sumthin' slammed on tha piano!"

No, Qui-Gon did not hear anything. He could only hope that they wouldn't find anything that they couldn't run from.

It was possible that Irene King left something else besides her rotting corpse.