Winny and the Lower Chamber

More about Winny and the Lower Chamber

The old house suddenly groaned, as if something immense were pressing against ancient stone deep beneath its foundations. The walls trembled. Small cracks crept through the plaster beside the golden seals. Winny backed away slowly, his gaze never leaving the open cellar door. From the darkness below, no ordinary shadow rose. It was something much older. The air itself seemed to move like black water down there. The two-legged stag immediately stood protectively in front of Winny. His mighty antlers almost touched the flickering beams of the ceiling. Between the branches of his antlers, the same golden lines that adorned the walls of the house suddenly glowed. "The seals won't hold much longer," he said softly. But his voice sounded strained. Almost worried. The man without an echo continued to gaze down the cellar stairs. The silver cracks in his body were now spreading faster. Small fragments of light detached themselves from his arms and vanished into the air. “The Lower Chamber was never meant for humans,” he murmured. “Not even for witches.” Suddenly, one of the mirrors behind Winny flickered again. But this time it didn't show a vision of the house. Instead, a vast underground hall appeared. Black pillars rose there into endless darkness. Between them ran ancient golden lines like a gigantic net. And now Winny could see that these lines weren't simply running across the floor. They pulsated. Like veins. With each dull heartbeat beneath the house, they glowed brighter. Then something moved between the pillars. Slowly. Enormous. At first, Winny thought she saw only shadows. But then, deep down, a single golden eye opened. Much larger than a human. Ancient. Awake. Hungry. The false Winny let out a stifled sound and crawled even further back into the corner. Her silver mist body was now beginning to disintegrate completely. “It recognizes the house,” she whispered in a panic. "It remembers the door..." At that same instant, the cellar door suddenly swung open. A powerful blast of cold air rushed through the living room, making all the mirrors tremble at once. But what rose from the darkness was not wind. It was breath. Slow. Deep. So heavy that even the candle flames bent with each exhalation. Winny knew immediately that this breath did not belong to an ordinary being. It was older than the house. Older than the mirrors. Perhaps older than the woods themselves. Then the female voice sounded again from the depths. This time much clearer. "Winny... close the door... before it fully awakens..." Winny suddenly recognized something in that voice. Not just fear. Memory. As if the unknown woman down there had already known her, long before Winny had ever entered this house.