Chapter Four: Seek The Secrets

The dull throb of dread tightened in Michelangelo's chest as he inched his way forwards, blood pounding in his ears, his face was beginning to flush and his skin prickled slightly.

"Oh my God, oh my God." He whispered breathlessly as he urged himself to continue.

Shadows clawed their way across the floor, scratching up the walls. Darkness oozed from every crevice virtually blocking out the light. Noise became strangely exaggerated; constricting passage walls distorted even the resonating sounds water slowly dripping from the high arched ceiling, contorting them into unearthly whispers. A low rumble of thunder rolled over the distant hills somewhere outside the castle walls, warping as it echoed through the corridor.

Michelangelo swept the flashlight beam before him, chasing the shifting shadows; occasionally catching a movement just out of sight before it vanished in the torchlight.

"You can do this, you can do this. You're doing great, that's it, just a little further." Suddenly his flashlight started to flicker. "No, no, no!" panic cracked his voice as suffocating darkness closed in. Michelangelo desperately shook the wavering flashlight in his hands, he watched with cold helplessness as the incandescent beam slowly faded before finally extinguished altogether.

His misty breath obscured his vision as he squinted up the shadowy stairwell, shafts of pale moonlight streamed through the tortured glass of a small window, cutting lines across the floor. Serious doubts started to nag at the back of his mind. One thought after another, but one thing he was sure of, something was wrong. Leonardo paused, listening to the sound of his own heavy breathing he tried to clear his fogged mind. He couldn't shake the feeling that he should continue down the uninviting corridor, onwards to what ever lay ahead. Once again the strange noise peeled out of the darkness, pulling him onwards. When finally he came to his senses he was surprised to find he was several steps away from his original position, taking a fleeing glance back he continued to follow the noise into the heart of the castle.

His face creased with concentration, straining all of his senses Leonardo slowly moved in the direction the sound was beckoning him. His whole body ached, each nerve end tingled, every muscle taught. Silently he crept along, alert, waiting. The further away the sound drew him, they more he could begin to make out. Leo stopped; allowing a hazy sigh to escape from his lips, the sound was gone. Closing his eyes, he listened hard, absorbing every sensation around him. A garbled sound forced upon his awareness, a babble of voices each fighting to be heard. Squeezing his eyes tight, Leo tried to concentrate, filter the chaos. Mournful voices echoing screams, the walls rung with the sound of gruesome piercing cries.

" - Seek the secrets - "

Leonardo's eyes snapped open, a jolt of fear raced through his body rushing the air from his lungs. He spun on his heels, gripping the flashlight with both hands he darted the beam around the choking passageway. The damp walls and floor glistered in the stark brilliance, but revealed nothing. His heaving chest slowed as he lowered his arms slightly.

There had to be someone there! He had heard them! Hadn't he?

Rain had begun to lash relentlessly against the castle walls, depressingly drumming, invading his every move, filling his mind with its torturous rhythm. A bolt of lightening illuminated his palled features, before the black skies shrouded everything in darkness. Only the buzzing blue-ish light seeping from the plasma screen remained to console him. So many twists and turns tumbling in his mind perplexing his way, Donatello sat bunched up in a dank corner, pulling his knees in tightly to his chest he shied from the atmosphere embracing him. The wind screeched far beyond the castle walls, slamming the rain harder into the walls of the castle. The whole structure seem to live, breathe all around him, creaking and groaning with each laborious breath. Cold biting into his hands and face, protected from the cloak of shadows by his bubble of blue light Donatello looked on desolate as the low battery indicator began to blink intermittently.

Ensnared by the intoxicating stillness, Raphael traced the winding path through the hollow twisted centre of the castle. Isolation stung all around him, infiltrating his very being to its inner most core, where it hung cold and leaden in the pit of his stomach.

The presence he first felt in the Pink Room had never left him; sometimes it shied, strayed from him, but not for very long. It was close now, almost upon him, treading lightly in his footsteps, watching, waiting, its breath prickling the back of his neck. Raphael bit back the bitter tasting bile that clawed at the back of his throat, the grim greyness of nothing eked out before him, each shuddering step he travelled pulled the cloak of remoteness taut around him. A sense of helplessness gripped his chest crushing the air from his chilled lungs; allowing a sob to escape his lips, he was alone. Desperate thoughts clamoured for attention in the raging torrents of his troubled mind.

What If, what if something happened? Wasn't this what happened in horror movies, the group mysteriously splits up? Would anyone hear him yell, would anyone reach him in time, before it was too late, where were the others, were they together somewhere, searching for him or waiting to leap out at the next shadowy turn, were they alone like him, what if they needed his help, had something already happened to them, was he next, unknowingly stumbling to his bloody demise round the next corner?

Thin threads of yellowing silver caressed his face as the moon dipped behind the thick sodden clouds, still the darkness boiled before him, the storm continued to pound outside the castle walls, hammering it's way inside. Slowly skulking through the sooty blackness fear pulsated through Raphael's weary body. He felt as though he had to keep moving to save his heart from bursting.

The moon suddenly burst from out of the clouds, slashing sharp lines of light through the gloom, the walls and floor shone like water. Gently Raphael's flashlight flickered and died, calling the opaque shadows from the furthest reaches of the corridor. Hurrying through the silence Raphael came face to face with a small unassuming door; unlike any other he had seen since entering this labyrinth to. Cautiously Raphael looked back along the path he had just taken, a reluctance to retrace his steps thudded in his head. The presence, which had been dogging his journey through these stretches of foreboding passageways, moved in on icy wings, the air began to hiss and crackle slightly.

With an eerie ease it revolved around him, a scratching of filthy entities chucked muddily, he could hear them now as they sung something cold and low, feel their warm stinking breath as they drew in creaking tighter and tighter until it seemed as though the night might fracture splitting along the seams, the dust at his feet kicked up into the vortex of tumbling air, a pungent murderous smell filled his nostrils. Quickly terror surged through him, Raphael gasped the freezing iron door handle, a sharp pain caught him flowing through his arms like thousands of little electric shocks, snatching his hand away he noticed each finger was dripping with blood.

As silently as it had come the manifestation settled into a peaceful, quiet, stillness, before slowly melting into the walls

.

Raphael turned and fled, rubber limbed stumbling over shadows, spinning and lurching towards the dark his lungs seared from the lack of air, but still he raced on thundering towards the unknown.

Donatello's head nodded and lolled, his sight became unfocused and fuzzy; a great nothingness sucked him down into the black swirling realms of sleep. He snapped his head back, jerking himself back into the bleak reality he had just escaped. He must have fallen asleep, but for how long? He glanced at the screen of the portable magnetometer that still rested in his clasp. Dead, he really should have brought more batteries. In certain, supposed haunted residences, batteries seemingly having the power sucked from them had been well documented. The cold was really getting to him now; it was seeping through his clothes, soaking, freezing his bones. Perhaps, perhaps if he was to move about a bit more he might warm up slightly.

Struggling to his feet was painfully slow as the blood began to flow back into his long forgotten limbs, the fizzy tingling sensation made moving even more uncomfortable. Donatello did his best to stretch before kneading the feeling back into his hands. Just then a shifting in darkness caught his eye. A low groan crackled, knifing its way through the stifling atmosphere as a door gradually swung open. There had to be a rational explanation, Donatello mused, maybe his recent movements had disturbed something, a loose floorboard possibly, or the wind clawing at the walls outside was to the blame for the doors sudden sway. Doubt slowly leaked into a small corner in his mind, its sharp fingers reaching out to poison his thoughts. Had he not seen a movement by that very door just moments before? He had to admit, something had drawn his attention to that area of the room.

He placed the magnetometer on the floor before slouching the worn pack from his shoulders. Frantically he fumbled through the pockets as fast as his numbed fingers would allow. Ah, there they were, he never left home without them if he could help it. His trusty night vision goggles made to his own outstanding ingenious design.

Carefully he slipped them into place over his eyes and scanned the room. What was that! Donatello felt his heart leap from his chest only to settle in his throat where it hammered. A strange whooshing noise filled his ears. There was an indistinguishable shape, but it was there none the less, showing by the door. Donatello pushed the goggles up on to his sweat-drenched forehead; he squinted into the shadows and blinked several times.

Nothing? Jittery, he scratched at the goggles attempting to reposition them over his eyes. Still there! His brow furrowed as Donatello concentrated hard on the object before him, it had to be an anomaly or a glitch with the night vision, he was leaning towards anomaly when he noticed something that froze the blood in his veins, the shape was moving towards him! A shrill whine pierced the air sending Donatello reeling backwards. The magnetometer! But that wasn't possible! Fear began to quake his body, crawling under his skin; upon stepping back Donatello's legs became ensnared in the straps of his backpack hurling him to the ground. Turning on his belly he desperately clawed his way to the exit, throwing himself out of the room into the uninviting corridor beyond.

Panting heavily he kicked his legs free from the tangled strapping, sucking in large gulps of air Donatello tried to steady his nerves.

Michelangelo stumbled blindly onwards, one trembling step after another. What was that?Did he just hear footsteps? They were drawing nearer, bouncing off the walls and echoing through the length of the grim passage way. Feverishly clutching the flashlight close to his chest Michelangelo stood, stock still, rooted to the spot by some unimaginably powerful force. He could hear the unearthly wailing and screaming, feel it squeeze the very life from his heart as the 'thing' closed in. It would be on top of him any second!

Something loomed out of the blackness towards him, screeching wildly as it flailed its arms. Using the only thing at hand to defend himself with, Michelangelo brought it down upon his attacker with all his might. The lamp of the flashlight connected with something solid creating a satisfying thud.