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Sam’s heart began to race as he approached the painting, a sense of unease settling over him. He reached out and carefully slid the heavy frame to the side, revealing a small door hidden behind it. The door was old, made of dark wood, with a rusted handle that looked as though it hadn’t been used in years.

Without hesitation, Sam turned the handle. The door groaned open, revealing a narrow staircase leading down into darkness. He hesitated for a moment, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. This felt like the kind of place where secrets were buried—quite literally.

He descended the stairs slowly, his flashlight flickering against the damp stone walls. The stairwell led to a small underground chamber, musty and cold. The room was small, with stone walls and a low ceiling that made it feel claustrophobic. In the center of the room was a table, covered with old papers, a few relics, and several photographs.

Sam’s breath caught in his throat. The chamber was old, but someone had been here recently. The papers were arranged neatly, and there was no dust on the table’s surface. He approached cautiously, shining his flashlight over the objects.

The first thing he noticed was a stack of letters, yellowed with age. The handwriting was difficult to read, but one word stood out—**blood moon**. Sam’s pulse quickened as he recognized the phrase from Lord Andrew’s journal. The letters were filled with references to a secret gathering, a ritual that was meant to take place under the light of a blood moon. The language was cryptic, but it was clear that whatever this gathering was, it had been of great importance to the Colton family.

Next to the letters was a photograph, one that made Sam’s blood run cold. It was a picture of Lord Andrew, standing in what appeared to be the very chamber Sam was now standing in. He was younger in the photograph, perhaps in his twenties, and he was surrounded by several other men and women, all dressed in dark clothing, their faces obscured by shadows.

Beneath the photograph was a small piece of paper with a single sentence scrawled in Lord Andrew’s handwriting: **“We meet again under the blood moon.”**

Sam stared at the note, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. A secret meeting under the blood moon—what did it mean? Was this part of the curse that had plagued the Colton family for generations? And if so, what had Lord Andrew been involved in?

He felt a chill run down his spine as he realized that the blood moon was due to occur soon. He had read about it in the local paper just before leaving New York—an eclipse that would turn the moon a deep crimson, a rare celestial event that would be visible across the world.

Sam’s mind raced with possibilities. Was this meeting still going to happen? Had Lord Andrew’s disappearance been part of some larger plan? And what role did the Colton family’s dark history play in all of this?

His thoughts were interrupted by a faint sound—something like a whisper carried on the cold air of the chamber. Sam froze, listening intently. The sound came again, a low, unintelligible murmur that seemed to come from the very walls.

He spun around, shining his flashlight across the room, but there was no one there. The chamber was empty, save for the relics and the photograph. But the whispering continued, growing louder, more insistent.

Sam backed away from the table, his heart pounding. The sound was all around him now, filling the small space with an eerie, otherworldly presence. He couldn’t understand the words, but the tone was unmistakable—angry, desperate, and filled with a dark, malevolent energy.

He bolted for the stairs, the flashlight flickering as he scrambled up the steps and back into the sitting room. The whispering followed him, fading only when he slammed the small door shut behind him and leaned against the wall, gasping for breath.

For several moments, he stood there, his mind reeling from what he had just experienced. Was this the curse at work? Was this the same dark force that had driven Lord Andrew to madness?

As his breathing slowed, Sam’s thoughts became clearer. He couldn’t let fear cloud his judgment. Whatever had just happened, it only reinforced his belief that there was more to Lord Andrew’s disappearance than met the eye. The blood moon, the secret meeting, the strange photograph—it all pointed to something bigger, something that had been hidden for generations.

He had to keep digging.

Determined, Sam made his way back to the main part of the house, his mind racing with the possibilities. He needed to find out more about the blood moon and the ritual it was connected to. He also needed to talk to the remaining members of the Colton family—especially Alice, Lord Andrew’s cousin, who had been staying at the estate. If anyone knew what was going on, it might be her.

As he made his way through the dimly lit corridors of the mansion, Sam couldn’t shake the feeling that the house itself was alive, watching him, waiting for him to uncover its secrets. The weight of the Colton family’s dark history hung heavy in the air, and Sam knew that he was getting closer to the truth.

But the closer he got, the more dangerous the investigation became. Something—or someone—didn’t want him to find out what had happened to Lord Andrew. The whispers, the hidden room, the cryptic messages—they were all warnings.

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