Winny and the Stairs Beneath the House

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The heavy thud beneath the house never ceased. Slowly, it echoed through the beams, through the walls, through every single glass on the shelves, until even the small flames of the candles in the living room began to tremble. And as the silver mist continued to creep from the open cellar door, Winny suddenly felt that her old house no longer stood on the ground, but on something else—something immense, slowly awakening deep underground. The false Winny retreated further. Her movements were no longer calm or mimicking as before. Now there was fear in them. Real fear. Her distorted mirror image twitched erratically in the silver light, as if the figure were struggling to maintain its shape. And when another dull, metallic rumble sounded from below, she whirled around abruptly and stared into the dark cellar. "It's coming too soon," she whispered suddenly. Winny slowly raised the witch's staff. The old stag immediately stood beside her. His massive antlers almost grazed the low ceiling beams. The black eyes of the Man Without Echo remained fixed on the stairs. Then something appeared below in the mist. Not a figure. Just a hand. Slowly, it emerged from the darkness and lay down on the bottom step. The fingers were far too long, almost transparent, and beneath the pale skin, faint silver lines moved like flowing memories. A second hand followed shortly after. Then a shadow. Not walking. Not crawling. More like gliding, as if it didn't entirely abide by the rules of this world. Winny felt the Hope Glass behind her suddenly flare brightly. Golden light spread through the room. For the first time, the mirror beings outside in the forest hissed simultaneously. Their dark bodies jerked back among the motionless trees. "The light remembers you," the Man Without Echo murmured softly. Winny didn't immediately understand what he meant. But then she remembered something her grandmother used to say often. Magic doesn't come from power. But from what remains when everything else has been forgotten. Down in the cellar, a long, metallic creaking sound suddenly came. This time much closer. Something large was moving down there. Something old. And then Winny saw the door. Deep behind the cellar stairs, the fog parted for a brief moment, and behind it appeared a massive iron gate, covered with silver symbols that moved slowly across the metal like living writing. A faint light pulsed between the two gate leaves. In the same rhythm as the dull thuds beneath the earth. The stag recoiled in alarm. "The Heart Chamber..." Winny looked at him immediately. "You know this place?" The old stag didn't answer right away. His voice suddenly sounded very old. "Many centuries ago, there weren't only houses like this here. The old witches built their sanctuaries over places that had to be locked away.