The air hung thick and stagnant around Blackwood Manor, a decaying husk of a house that sagged under the weight of its own grim history. Moss like weeping black fuzz clung to crumbling stone, and skeletal trees clawed at the perpetually grey sky. Locals whispered of the place, of the Mûryer family lineage steeped in shadowed deeds, and most importantly, of Kym.

Kym Mûryer. The name itself was a rusty hinge, creaking open a door onto a history best left undisturbed. He wasn't just a murderer; he was the murderer, a predator whose reign of terror centuries ago was punctuated by a rapacious hunger that went beyond mere bloodlust. He’d been caught, eventually, though the details were murky – whispers of an attempted exorcism, a desperate, forbidden rite performed by fearful, ignorant priests who thought they could chain the darkness.

They were wrong. Terribly, spectacularly wrong.

The exorcism, the true crime at the heart of Blackwood's curse, had summoned something far greater than the malevolence clinging to Kym Mûryer. It was said the Devil himself had appeared, not in fiery grandeur, but as a chill wind that extinguished every candle, a voice that slithered into the priests' minds, twisting their faith into gibbering madness before their bodies were found, grotesquely mutilated, scattered through the adjacent wild nature. Kym, instead of being purged, had been transformed. Bound to the lower depths, yet not truly dead, anchored to the manor, a vessel of pure repugnance and fear, forever activated by the lingering power of that failed rite. They called him vampire, though his needs were more complex than blood; he fed on terror, on pain, on the very essence of life he stole.

He lay dormant for decades, perhaps centuries, a coiled spring of malevolence within the manor's deepest, most protected chamber – the old sacristy where the exorcism had occurred. The room was sealed, warded with symbols meant to contain, but which, perhaps, only served to concentrate the horror.

Tonight, however, something shifted. A group of trespassers, urban explorers driven by morbid curiosity and a foolish dismissal of legend, had breached the sacristy for the first time in living memory. They were young vampires of modernity, feeding on thrills and posting their sacrilege online. Their foolish presence, their naive violation of the charged space, acted as the trigger.

Deep within the stone vault, where Kym Mûryer’s corrupted remains lay bound in chains of ancient, tarnished silver, a ripple went through the air. The scent of decay intensified, curdling the already stale atmosphere. Dust motes in the beams of the explorers' flashlights danced like frantic, tiny specters. Outside, in the wild nature that pressed in on the manor, the night sounds twisted. What should have been the rustling of leaves became a dry, scuttling whisper. The calls of nocturnal creatures fragmented into chitters and screeches that held an unnerving, almost human cadence, horribly reminiscent of marsupials wild, possessed by a collective, evil glee. They were listening. The sinister animals of the grounds were the Devil’s ears.

Inside the sacristy, the lead explorer, a pale young man named Finn, shone his light on the chained form. It was skeletal, draped in rags that might once have been formal wear, but were now little more than grave-shroud. Yet, it wasn't quite dead. A faint, unholy glow pulsed beneath the ribcage.

"Holy hell," whispered Maya, another of the group, her voice trembling. "Is that... real?"

As Finn reached out a tentative hand towards the form, a low, guttural sound rumbled from the chained figure. It was the sound of ancient stone grinding, of bone shifting against itself after too long.

And then, Kym Mûryer was activated.

His body reacted not with a slow, spectral rise, but with a sudden, violent burst. Like a spring compressed for centuries and suddenly released, his limbs snapped taut against the chains. The silver bindings groaned, links stretching taut, threatening to shatter. His head jerked back, exposing a throat like gnarled wood, a cavernous mouth splitting open in a soundless scream of unleashed force. Muscle, withered and dry, rediscovered a grotesque parody of life. His spine arced, ribs pressing against the thin, leathery skin. It was a convulsion of pure, concentrated malevolence, a physical manifestation of the darkness that had matured within him.

The explorers stumbled back, their flashlights shaking wildly. The air grew colder, the scent of decay replaced by something sharp and metallic – the scent of old blood, of rapacious hunger awakening. The chains didn't break, not entirely, but they stretched, allowing Kym’s torso to lurch forward, his head snapping down. Empty sockets, deep as boreholes into darkness, fixed on the living flesh before him.

A low hiss escaped his split lips, revealing jagged, stained teeth. It wasn't just the chains that held him; there were wards carved into the stone floor, shimmering faintly under the dust. He was contained, but only just. And his activation meant the containment was failing. The sacristy wasn't just a prison; it was a pressure cooker, and Kym was the entity reaching critical mass.

Panic seized the explorers. "Get out! Get out!" screeched Leo, fumbling with the heavy wooden door they had forced open.

Their escape routes were becoming clearer now: the way they came in. But the house itself seemed to resist. Shadows deepened in corners, making familiar paths seem alien. The chilling marsupial-like whispers from outside seemed closer, wrapping around the manor walls.

Kym strained against the silver. The metal began to smoke where it touched his skin, but his defiance was absolute. He was centuries of pent-up rage, of predatory instinct honed to a razor's edge by supernatural corruption. He wanted. He needed. And he was close to taking.

One of the explorers, Sarah, fumbled with her phone, trying to record the impossible sight. Her flashlight beam jittered across Kym's face. It was a face of nightmares, skin stretched tight over bone, a rictus of hatred etched deep. Patches of flesh were missing, revealing blackened bone or glistening tendon – relics of his death, or perhaps the failed exorcism's price. He was mutilated, a walking, breathing (though he didn't seem to breathe) testament to horror.

With a final, horrific PING, a link of the silver chain snapped. It flew across the room, embedding itself in the ancient plaster wall with the force of a bullet. Kym's left arm was free.

It shot out with impossible speed, skeletal fingers tipped with long, yellowed nails reaching for the nearest source of warmth and life – Finn. Finn screamed, stumbling back, but the hand was too fast. It clamped onto his ankle.

The cold was immediate, absolute. It wasn't just physical frigidity; it was a soul-deep frigidness that radiated from Kym, drawing the heat and life from Finn's body. A ghastly gurgling sound came from Kym's throat, the sound of unnatural feeding.

"Cut him free!" Maya yelled, fumbling for the utility knife she carried.

But Kym was pulling, dragging Finn towards the sarcophagus-like stone stand he was chained to. His other arm, still bound, strained. The wards on the floor beneath him began to flicker, the lines of power unstable under the immense pressure of his activated form.

The whispers from outside escalated, becoming a chittering chorus of anticipation, a wild, possessed symphony of evil cheering on its champion. It was the sound of the darkness maturing, the sound of punishment descending.

Maya reached Finn, hacking desperately at the rags around his ankle where Kym's hand gripped. Finn's screams were weakening, turning into whimpers. His face was paling, his skin taking on a grey, waxy sheen. Kym's empty eye sockets seemed to glow with an internal fire.

Leo was frozen by the door, unable to move, trapped by the sheer repugnance and fear emanating from the creature. Sarah, phone still recording, backed into a corner, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

With a final, agonizing tug, Kym wrenched Finn's leg, pulling him fully onto the stone stand. Another chain link snapped, this time freeing the other arm. Kym was now only anchored by the thick chains around his neck and waist. It was enough.

He hunched over Finn, the sound of his feeding becoming louder, a wet, slurping sound that mixed with guttural, non-human growls. It wasn't just life he was taking; it felt like memories, hope, the very color of existence was being drained from Finn's being. His body twisted in a final, silent agony before going limp.

Kym raised his head, his jaw smeared with something dark and viscous. His empty sockets now held a terrifying vitality, a predatory gleam. He looked at Maya and Sarah, a chilling intelligence in those vacant eyes. The rapacious hunger was far from sated. It had only just begun.

Maya finally managed to cut through the rags, but it was too late. Finn was gone. She scrambled backwards, knife in hand, facing the activated monster.

"Leave us alone!" she screamed, a pathetic, desperate sound.

Kym titled his head, a gesture of malevolent curiosity. He didn't need to speak. The air vibrated with his presence, with the echoes of the failed exorcism, with the chilling whisper of the Devil's fleeting appearance centuries ago, a whisper that had never entirely left these walls.

He unclenched his hand from Finn's now-useless ankle. The limb was shriveled, cold, the skin tight and translucent. He lowered himself from the stone stand, the chains dragging and scraping across the floor. The wards beneath him flared violently, fighting against his movement, but his sheer defiance seemed to override them.

They had found an escape route into the sacristy; now they desperately needed one out of the manor. But the house knew. The sinister family house was waking with its master. Corridors shifted slightly, doors they thought were exits led to locked rooms. The wild nature outside pressed closer, the possessed chittering growing into a frenzy. There was no escape from the punishment they had unleashed.

Kym Mûryer moved surprisingly fast, a loping, unnatural gait, like a broken marionette animated by pure hate. He was the embodiment of true crime twisted into paranormal horror, a dead man walking (or loping) with vampiric needs and a killer's instinct amplified by centuries of dark power.

Maya and Sarah scrambled towards the door, but Kym was closer. He didn't rush; he stalked, a predator relishing the hunt. His head swivelled, tracking their movements, the empty sockets missing nothing. The darkness in the room wasn't just absence of light; it was a palpable entity, clinging to Kym, emanating from him. The mature darkness had found its master again.

Sarah tripped, falling back against the wall, her phone clattering away, its light going out. She cried out as Kym loomed over her, the awful smell of him – graveyard dirt, decay, something metallic and sickeningly sweet – overwhelming her senses.

Maya lunged, swinging her small knife wildly. It wasn't a weapon against this. It was defiance, futile but necessary. Kym batted her away with a casual backhand, sending her flying across the room to crash against a stack of ancient, dust-laden books.

He turned back to Sarah. Her screams were sharp, piercing, but quickly muffled. The wet, tearing sounds that followed were lost to the rising chorus of possessed marsupial-calls from outside, a cacophony of evil celebrating the feast.

Maya lay where she'd landed, bruised and bleeding, the taste of dust and fear thick in her mouth. She couldn't see anything clearly in the gloom, but the sounds told her everything she needed to know. The true horror of Kym Mûryer, of the failed exorcism, of the Devil's lingering touch on this place, wasn't just visual; it was auditory, olfactory, a complete assault on the senses, leaving only repugnance and fear in its wake.

She knew there were theoretically escape routes, ways out of the manor. But she also knew, with a chilling certainty that settled deep in her bones, that Kym Mûryer, activated and unleashed, was the ultimate obstacle. He was the punishment, the consequence of disturbing centuries of settled, malevolent darkness.

Through the sounds of butchery, Maya heard a final, horrific snap. Then silence, save for Kym’s continued, wet feeding and the relentless, wild chittering from the surrounding nature. The darkness was complete now, mature and heavy. Kym Mûryer was fully awake, fully activated, the coiled spring of pure evil unfurled. And Blackwood Manor, his sinister family house, was once again his hunting ground. Maya knew, with a certainty that chilled her to the core, that her own escape was no longer a matter of finding exits, but of surviving the attention of a predator that fed on life itself, a vampire born of a failed holy rite and the Devil's touch, a true crime resurrected as paranormal terror. The night had turned cold, and Kym Mûryer was very, very hungry.

"Guys, guys, check this out," called out Leo, his flashlight beam bouncing erratically as he pushed through the overgrown foliage. The crumbling stone path leading to Blackwood Manor was barely visible, but the thrill of the forbidden was a beacon that guided them forward.

Maya and Sarah exchanged nervous glances before following, the excitement in Leo's voice a stark contrast to the oppressive silence that had settled over the group as they approached the decaying edifice. It was a silence filled with the whispers of untold horrors, the kind that sent shivers down their spines. They had heard the stories, of course – the whispers of a murderer named Kym Mûryer, the failed exorcism, the curse that had clung to the Mûryer family line like a shroud – but they had dismissed them as mere legend, the kind of tall tales that grew more terrifying with each retelling.

Yet, as they stepped into the manor, the air grew thick, as if it were charged with the very essence of malevolence. The house groaned around them, as if alive, a sinister creature that resented their intrusion. The walls, draped in cobwebs that shimmered with the dust of centuries, seemed to lean in, whispering secrets of shadowed deeds long past.

"Remember, this is just for the 'Gram," said Maya, trying to keep her voice steady. "We're just urban explorers, not ghost hunters."

"Right," agreed Sarah, her voice a squeak. "We're not actually going to, like, wake anything up."

The group of urban explorers, led by Leo, ventures into Blackwood Manor, ignoring the ominous atmosphere and stories of Kym Mûryer. Despite Maya's attempt to reassure them, the air is heavy with malevolence, and the house feels alive with ancient secrets whispering around them.

Leo chuckled, the sound echoing eerily through the cavernous entryway. "As if this place isn't already dead."

But something stirred within the house's bowels, something ancient and hungry. It had lain dormant for so long, the chains of a forgotten exorcism wrapped tightly around its being, holding it in check. But the trespassers' presence had tickled its senses, whispered sweet nothings of fear and defiance into its soul.

Kym Mûryer, the predator, the killer, the vampire that was so much more than just a creature of the night, felt the shift in the air. The darkness that had matured within him began to pulse, eager to be free, to claim new prey. The chains around his neck tightened, the silver links biting into his desiccated flesh as his skeletal form strained against its confines.

The manor's wild nature – the rats, the bats, the creeping vines – grew still, listening for the voice of the master they had not heard in so long. The sinister animals of the grounds, twisted by the same dark power that had shaped Kym, grew restless. They knew the sound of their own kind, the rapacious hunger that called to them, the promise of punishment for those who dared disturb the sanctity of the sinister family house.

Kym Mûryer, a being bound by a failed exorcism, reacts to the explorers' intrusion. His malevolent energy pulses as the house's wild nature, also affected by the dark power, grows still and anticipatory.

And so, in the deepest, most secret chamber, the true horror began to unfold. The room where the exorcism had gone wrong, where the Devil's jaw had been felt by the trembling priests, was now the stage for a new confrontation. Kym Mûryer, the monster born of holy failure, was about to be activated once more. The chains that bound him groaned, the wards on the floor flickered, and outside, the possessed animals grew wild with anticipation.

The night was about to get a whole lot darker.

Leo's light played over the dust-covered stones of the sealed chamber, revealing the mutilated form of Kym Mûryer. Chains of tarnished silver, etched with ancient symbols of containment, held the creature in a semblance of a man. But the true nature of what lay before them was anything but human. It was a living embodiment of the evil they had unwittingly activated by their intrusion.

The moment they had stepped into the room, the air had turned colder, as if the very essence of the house was drawing in a deep, shuddering breath. The shadows grew denser, the cobwebs thickening into a tapestry of malevolence that seemed to pulse with an unearthly life. The whispers of the wild nature outside grew louder, the sinister animals of the grounds responding to the call of their ancient master. They had become the Devil's ears, eager to listen for the voice that would set them free to serve once more.

Maya and Sarah stared, horror-struck, as Kym's body spasmed with a newfound energy, the chains that had kept him in check for centuries straining and popping as the power of the failed exorcism was unleashed. His head snapped forward, the jaw unhinging in a silent, soundless scream that sent a shiver down their spines. The rags that clung to his skeletal frame fluttered with the intensity of his rage, revealing the full extent of his monstrous form.

He was a creature of nightmare, a predator that had fed on fear and pain for so long that his very essence was a miasma of terror. The house itself seemed to pulse with excitement, the walls closing in, the floor tilting beneath their feet, as if eager to offer its new guests to the monster it had nurtured for so long.

The group of trespassers turned to flee, but the manor had other plans. The corridors twisted, the doors they had so confidently pushed open now blocked by unseen forces, the escape routes they had memorized now leading them in a dizzying maze of despair. The house had come alive with malicious intent, eager to mete out the punishment they so richly deserved.

Kym's eyes, once hollow sockets of emptiness, now gleamed with a predatory light. His jaws snapped shut, and the silence was broken by a low, guttural growl that resonated through the chamber. The chains around his neck tightened, cutting deeper into the desiccated flesh as he pulled himself to his feet. The wards beneath his booted feet flickered and died, no longer able to contain the horror that had been born from their own misguidance.

The wild nature outside had gone utterly silent, the chittering of the possessed animals swallowed by the void that was Kym Mûryer. They knew what was coming, the punishment that would be meted out for disturbing the sanctity of the sinister family house. The darkness had matured, and it was hungry.

Finn lay still and cold on the floor, his life essence drained, leaving only a desiccated husk. The smell of death filled the chamber, a cloying perfume that mingled with the odor of decay and the metallic tang of fear. The vampire, now fully activated, turned to face the remaining interlopers, the chains around his waist clanking with each deliberate step.

Maya and Sarah's hearts raced in their chests, the thunder of panic drowning out all other sound. They were no longer the curious explorers seeking thrills; they were prey, and Kym was the hunter. His gaze fell upon them, a promise of agony and eternal torment.

In that moment, the true story of Blackwood Manor, of the real exorcism that went wrong when the Devil himself appeared, became their living nightmare. The house was a prison for an evil that had been allowed to fester and grow, and now it had been unleashed.

They had to get out. They had to somehow find their way through the labyrinth of corridors that now felt like the very bowels of hell itself. But the house was alive with the malice of its former inhabitant, the walls whispering of their inevitable fate. The chains that bound Kym Mûryer were a part of him, an extension of his twisted soul, and now that he was activated, they were a part of the manor's very fabric. They clanked in a rhythmic, taunting symphony, echoing through the halls as he stalked closer.

Maya and Sarah clutched each other, their flashlights bobbing wildly, casting erratic shadows that danced like malevolent puppets on the walls. They stumbled through the darkness, desperation fueling their panic. The floor beneath them felt alive, shifting and buckling as if the very house itself sought to trip them up, to offer them to Kym. His eyes, now gleaming with a cold, otherworldly light, tracked them without blinking, a promise of the punishment that awaited.

The chittering from outside grew louder, more insistent, a cacophony of sinister animals, the wild nature of the grounds now an extension of Kym's power. They were his eyes, his hands, his teeth in the dark. They could feel the malevolent gaze of the creatures, their tiny, sharp eyes gleaming with the same hunger that burned within the vampire.

Their escape plans had been naive, a mere game played with fate. Now, they faced the horror that had been born of a real exorcism gone wrong, the true face of the evil they had so flippantly dismissed. The devil's jaw had left its mark on this place, and now it had claimed them as its own.

The darkness grew denser, the air thick with the stench of decay and the metallic tang of blood. The house was closing in, the walls seemingly shrinking, the very air turning to a thick, viscous substance that clung to their skin. The once-still night outside was a maelstrom of sound, a wild symphony of snarls and hisses, the natural world gone mad with the matured darkness that had been unleashed.

Maya's hand found a cold, metal door handle, and she pulled, her heart racing. It didn't budge. They were trapped, the manor's prison now their tomb. The chains around Kym's waist rattled as he approached, the sound a death knell that seemed to resonate through their very bones.

Suddenly, a piercing scream tore through the night, a human sound that seemed to cut through the madness of the wild nature outside. It was a sound of pure terror, a sound that sent the creatures into a frenzy. It was the sound of one of them – it had to be Leo – and it was coming from somewhere above them.

The two girls looked at each other, their eyes wide with hope and horror. Could they split up? Could they somehow distract the monster and escape? The scream grew louder, closer, and with a sickening thud, something heavy and lifeless hit the floorboards above. The house groaned in response, the very wood seeming to absorb the sound and amplify it, sending shudders through the room.

Kym paused, his head cocked to one side. The chains around his neck tightened, cutting deeper into his decayed flesh as he listened. His head snapped up, the sound of his neck crackling like a dry twig. His gaze locked onto the girls, his intent clear.

They had to move, now, or become part of the Blackwood Manor's grisly history. They had to find a way to survive this nightmare, to somehow outsmart the predator that had made this sinister family house its lair. They had to become the prey that escaped, the survivors of a tale that would be whispered with a mix of terror and awe for generations to come.

But as they turned to run, the floor beneath them gave way, and they plummeted into the abyss, the darkness swallowing them whole. The last thing they heard was the echo of Kym Mûryer's laugh, a sound that chilled their very souls. The house had claimed another set of lives to sate its hunger for fear.

The wild nature outside, once so eager for the hunt, grew eerily still. The sinister animals paused, their calls dying in their throats. They had heard the laugh of their master, the sound of the hunted becoming the hunted. And in that moment, they knew that the night was young, and the feast had only just begun. The darkness grew denser, the air thick with the scent of matured evil. It was as if the very fabric of the night had been torn open to reveal the abyss beneath, and Kym Mûryer reveled in it.

Maya and Sarah fell through the floorboards, their screams muffled by the dust and decay that filled the space below. They landed in a basement, a labyrinth of cobwebs and shadow. The walls were lined with ancient, moldering tomes and artifacts, relics of the Mûryer family's twisted history. The air was thick with the stench of death and despair, a scent that seemed to excite Kym as he descended the stairs, his chains clanking with each step. The basement was a chamber of horrors, a museum of true crime that whispered its secrets to those who dared listen.

The girls stumbled through the dark, their flashlights flickering with each terrified breath. They knew they had to find a way out, but the house was a living maze, its walls seemingly shifting to thwart their every move. They could hear Kym's unearthly growls, feel the coldness of his presence as it grew closer. The floor was sticky with some unknown substance, and the walls seemed to press in, suffocating them with the weight of their own fear.

As they rounded a corner, a glimmer of hope pierced the gloom. A door, slightly ajar, beckoned them with the promise of escape. They stumbled towards it, their legs trembling with the effort of their flight. But as they approached, the door slammed shut with a bone-jarring finality, the sound echoing through the chamber like a gunshot. The house had other plans for them. It had fed them into the maw of its most terrifying secret, and now it would watch them squirm.

The floor beneath them gave way again, plunging them into a pit of bone and earth. The chains around Kym's waist snapped, the last vestige of the failed exorcism's power shattering with the finality of a tomb being sealed. He was free, fully activated, and ready to claim his new prey. The girls screamed, their voices joining the symphony of horror that had haunted Blackwood Manor for centuries.

The pit was filled with the desiccated remains of those who had come before them, their bones picked clean by the manor's wild inhabitants. The walls were slick with some unspeakable residue, and the earth was cold and unforgiving. They had fallen into the belly of the beast, and now they had to find a way out. But as they clambered over the brittle bones, the earth began to tremble. The sinister animals outside were no longer just watching; they were eager to join in the hunt, their chittering now a cacophony of hunger and excitement.

The girls huddled together, their flashlights casting weak pools of light in the impenetrable dark. They knew they were out of their depth, that the house was alive with a malice they couldn't begin to fathom. They had disturbed the grave of a monster, and now they would pay the price. The air grew colder, the chains around Kym's neck tightening, drawing him closer. The darkness was no longer just a void; it had become a living, breathing entity, eager to consume them.

Their hearts pounding, their breaths coming in ragged gasps, Maya and Sarah stared into the abyss of the pit, the earth around them trembling with Kym's approach. The walls of the pit were lined with the desperate scratches of those who had come before, those who had hoped for escape but found only the cold embrace of the earth. The floor was a jumble of brittle bones, some human, some not, all telling the same grisly tale of the house's rapacious hunger for fear and pain.

Above them, the sinister animals grew louder, their whispers now a frenzied chant. They could feel the vibrations of their master's approach, his malevolence a palpable force that seemed to thicken the very air. The wild nature outside had gone mad, driven to a frenzy by the matured darkness that now suffused the manor. They were more than animals; they were the eyes and ears of the Devil, eager to serve the monster that had been unleashed within.

The two girls scrambled to their feet, their flashlights casting erratic shadows on the walls. They had to find a way out, had to somehow evade the predator that stalked them. The pit was a trap, a grim reminder of the true nature of the house they had invaded. The escape routes they had so confidently discussed now seemed like the cruelest of jokes played by the very stones themselves.

Maya spotted a narrow tunnel leading away from the pit, a sliver of hope in the suffocating darkness. "This way," she whispered to Sarah, her voice trembling. They stumbled forward, the ground beneath them feeling more like the gullet of some vast, malevolent creature than solid earth. The tunnel was low, forcing them to crawl, the damp earth pressing down on them, the smell of decay thick in their nostrils. It was as if the house itself was trying to swallow them, to keep them within its stomach of despair.

As they crawled, the whispers grew louder, the voice of the Devil echoing through the walls. They could feel the chains that had once bound Kym now snaking through the earth around them, seeking them out, eager to ensnare and bring them to their doom. The darkness grew more intense, the air thick with the stench of the grave, the very essence of the evil that had been born here centuries ago.

The tunnel grew narrower, the walls closing in until they scraped against their sides. Panic set in, a cold, claustrophobic terror that threatened to consume them. They could hear the chains clanking, feel the ground trembling as Kym approached. The house was alive with the horror of its past, every stone and beam pulsing with the malice that had been contained within the sealed chamber.

The girls pushed on, the walls of the tunnel seeming to close in on them. They had to keep moving, had to find a way out before the monster that had been born of a real exorcism gone wrong found them. The story of Kym Mûryer was no longer a thrilling piece of true crime lore; it was their living, breathing nightmare.

Suddenly, the ground gave way beneath them, and they fell into a chamber, a room of ancient stone and flickering torchlight. The walls were adorned with the twisted, tortured forms of the damned, their faces contorted in silent screams of eternal torment. This was the heart of the manor, the chamber where the exorcism had taken place, where the Devil's jaw had left its mark, and now the room pulsed with the power of the creature they had awakened.

Kym Mûryer stood before them, his body fully activated, his chains now a part of him, twisting and moving as if they were serpents of living silver. His mutilated form was a testament to the power of the evil that had taken root here, an entity that fed on the very essence of terror. He had become the living embodiment of the house's sinister legacy.

The chains that had once bound him were now his weapons, his servants. They lashed out like whips, cracking through the air, searching for their next victim. Maya and Sarah had no choice but to face the monster they had unleashed. The escape they had sought was no longer an option; now, it was a matter of survival.

By Carlos del Puente relatos