"How do I feel like I've been here before?" Leon asked himself as he walked in the direction Zoe had shown him to sit.
His fingers brushed the smooth, cold wood of the chair back, while his footsteps remained the only sound echoing in the vast room.
The moment he neared the chair and sat down, his gaze flickered up to the far wall, where the largest portrait in the room was.
His blood ran cold while his bones and veins screamed for an escape. In the portrait, rendered in stark, dramatic oils like his father used to mix, was a skeletal being.
It looked almost mythic, but the resemblance it had to the elongated limbs, the hollow eye sockets, and the sense of ancient stillness was so chilling that it made the chair he sat in shake violently.
There, the face of the skeletal being he saw in one of his dreams resurfaced, standing hand in hand with the one painted boldly on the portrait.
