Eldenwood Manor stood on the gradual slope of an impressive mountain. It was in the middle of a centuries old forest, the Eldenwood. The forest was enchanted with strange magic; at least, this was according to the old wizard Cromwell who lived in the nearby town of Hagthor. Most in the town did not take Cromwell seriously. Elara had spoken to him briefly before taking her leave. She experienced him as being delusional and dimwitted. Elara was a young elf with long, copper hair, and sharp, green eyes. She wore simple, brown, leather clothing. Despite her plain appearance and lack of wisdom due to age, she was an astute observer; hence her quick departure from Cromwell’s residence after she discovered that he would be of little use to her investigation.
She had been tasked by the owners of Eldenwood Manor, an elderly human couple with four young children, to examine the manor, for they believed it to be haunted. She had travelled a long way and was excited. She had never done this type of work before, and she was unsure what to even call it; either way, this was the beginning of a new chapter in her life, and she was feverish.
After a few hours of trodding through the soggy forest floor of the Eldenwood, Elara found herself at the manor. The property’s borders were clearly visible; from corner to corner the grass was well kempt and a clearing in the artificially green trees seemed to have been carved out to make space for the massive construction. The edifice was erected of stone and yet not an ounce of moss appeared in any crevice of it. It was mightily imposing, consisting of three stories, and, from what she had heard, a cellar, which had been unexplored for years. The appearance of the building left Elara feeling the slightest tinge of unease and misgiving. This feeling was compounded by the elegance of the rest of the forest. Something had been nagging her during her journey thus far; something about the forest made her feel as though she was treading through forbidden territory, as though she were bearing witness to some mystical beauty unfit for mortal eyes. Such was the danger of the Eldenwood: it ate away at one’s mind with its unending beauty. Its floors, while soggy and muddy, made one feel as though one was treading as lightly as through the heavens; its canopy was impeccable, a concentration of impossibly green leaves that cast perfect shadows upon the forest below it creating a mysterious, gloomy atmosphere, the trees themselves made of alluring dark wood and hosting thick branches overflowing with the aforementioned greenery. The creatures in the Eldenwood were mystical themselves: birds singing like sirens; small, fey, ground animals almost similar to hedgehogs; creatures with strange colouring: foxes with blue pelts and crystal eyes.
Elara mustered up the courage to walk up to the house. At the front was a large, wooden porch. She went up small steps. She felt her unease subside as she did this; the environment here was naturally lit, as it was midday, and the clearing in the trees meant that there was no canopy overhead, allowing the sun to gaze upon the manor. There were several windows but they were all closed with their curtains drawn. The wooden door was thick and had a large metal knocker. She politely queried for entry twice with the mechanism. Almost instantaneously the door creaked open a slight bit, just enough to reveal the curious yet anxious face of an old man. In his right hand was a copper shortsword which looked slightly malformed. He had greying hair and wrinkles etched all over his face, seemingly from years of concern. A plain, white, linen robe hugged his torso. He looked the elf on his porch up and down and frowned. He spoke gruffly and mumbled that he was not expecting an elf. Elara smiled reassuringly and explained that he in fact was. His eyes widened and the door likewise, as he allowed her in.
The front portal of the house was boring. The floor and ceiling were wooden while the walls were stone. A red, brown, fuzzy rug lay on the floor. Wide stairs opposite the door adorned with a purple carpet gave a more regal air to the interior, and led upstairs. To the left the front portal led to a living room; to the right was a dining room. The man introduced himself as Raelus Willow, as though his name was important, and directed Elara towards the living room. It had a spacious interior and was filled with expensive furniture. There was a clear colour scheme; purple was dominant, the same as the carpet on the stairs, with ornate gold etchings on the borders of the upholstery. There were six arm chairs around a large, lit fireplace. Sitting in one of the chairs was Raelus’ wife, Ava Willow. Elara could tell she was a kind lady. She was wearing a long, heavy, purple dress, and would have blended into the furniture, if not for her white hair that was tied into a messy bun. She smiled warmly when she saw Elara, and offered her tea and a seat. Elara obliged, and they spoke throughout most of the day.
As the conversation went on, Elara became more apprehensive about her new job. She pitied the Willow family for what they had been going through. According to them, their children had seen strange figures during the night; knights in dark armour with twisted faces and heavy maces. The knights had threatened to maul the children and promised to eat their brains. While this was unsettling enough as a vision, one of the children claimed to have felt a knight touch them with a cold, icy grasp that left them unable to sleep for a week. During the night the family also heard strange writhing in the walls, that seemed to originate from the cellar. One evening, Raelus, out of desperation to make the deafening, horrifying, writhing din come to an end, smashed a hole in the wall to try and find what he thought were rats. He refused to speak on what he saw, simply stating, ‘I can never forget that image…’ After this incident he admitted that he called on anyone to help the poor family, begging the townspeople of Hagthor to spread the news as far as possible. While not much trade came through the nearby town, an elven caravan had spread the word far enough through the elven Kingdom of Reodor to reach Elara. Elara then inquired about the cellar.
The cellar of Eldenwood Manor had not been talked about very much over the previous century. The Willow family had inherited the manor from a distant relative and moved in despite rumours of the Eldenwood’s enchantment. The Willow family’s distant relative, Lord Solomon, had died under mysterious circumstances in the cellar. Since then the cellar had remained locked, under suspicion that it had been cursed. The Willows explained that many theories and folktales had been told about the manor’s cellar, but that they did not believe them before moving in. Some stories described ancient rituals to dead gods by a secret cult organisation. Others described Lord Solomon as a crazed vampire who was exiled from Hagthor, and kept his victims in his cellar. None of them painted the underground area in a positive light. As story after story was recounted by the Willows, Elara began to regret her curiosity. She hated the realisation she had made: they needed to get into the cellar.
Day had turned to night as Elara shared her revelation with the elderly couple in front of her. They both seemed horrified at her proposition, and begged her for a different solution. She insisted that they open the cellar. Drawers were upended until the key was found. Elara was led to a wooden door made of mahogany with a solid gold handle. The Willows acquiesced in Elara’s decision to enter the cellar, and vowed to follow her down there. They had sent their children to sleep upstairs, and stood anxiously by the thick cellar door. Elara inserted the key into the lock and turned it. As she pulled open the door a cold blast of air struck at her, as though death itself breathed through the cellar’s beckoning halls. The three of them, with the aid of a lantern, made their way down cobweb-ridden stone steps, into a cavernous room, that was made entirely of stone; it was shoddily constructed, as though in great haste, and lacked the refined elegance of the rest of the manor. The walls were rank with decay and the ceiling was dripping; the entire place was damp and pitch black. Elara led the search, with Raelus taking up the rear. The cavernous room seemed to have no purpose, the walls not decorated and no additional constructions immediately visible due to the impeding darkness, until the group made their way unknowingly to the centre of the room, where they discovered an altar. The altar itself was an unremarkable, small, stone pillar that reached to Elara’s waist. On the altar, however, was a closed book that caught her attention. The red cover depicted a shortsword printed over a round shield. Elara reached out to open the mysterious book, and as she touched it searing pain shot through her whole arm, causing her to fall to the floor. The altar simultaneously turned in place to the right, seemingly indicating towards a large wooden door that had just opened. Elara eventually recovered and the three made their way towards the open door.
Inside the door were small, stone steps that led downwards. The ceiling was low and Elara and the others had to walk in an awkward half-crouch. The blackness here seemed impenetrable to their small lantern, which Raelus had now handed to Elara. Down and down the small steps twisted and turned, and for hours the three went on in silence, not daring to speak a single word. If not for the fear of being seen as weak by the other two, one of them, if alone, may have turned around and ran back upstairs to safety. They persisted however, determined to stay in the group despite their collective mounting anxiety.
At long last the stairs ended in a narrow crawl space. The Willows followed Elara in single file, crawling like animals. It was tight and damp, and stank of blood. Elara could not see clearly what dampness was coating the walls, but was praying to every god she knew that it was not blood. Her hands were shaking; she was cognisant of the fact that whatever reality they would find down here would change her mind for good. There was no turning back now, however, and she decided that this was part of her job; that this new chapter in her life involved conquering her fear.
The end of the crawl space was drawing near, and here the malodour of death was so thick that Elara began to feel nauseous and light headed. She was also hearing a very strange noise, and with each dreadful crawl it became louder and clearer. It was a terrible, squishy noise combined with a buzzy one, that created a cacophony that hurt her ears; it sounded as though hundreds of things were moving all at once, squirming over each other, and batting their wings at the same time.
When she reached the end of the crawl space, she cried out in a horrendous wail for all things sane and good. Below her, in a massive, circular pit, hundreds of feet long, lit dimly from far above by the spectral moonlight, was a monstrous sight. Thousands upon thousands of maggots thrashed and jolted on top of each other. These were not normal maggots, however. These maggots were Elara’s size. Gigantic monstrosities that were hungry for flesh, and this entire throng of them could surely eat swathes of life all at once. This was not all, however. Flying above the maggots and close to Elara’s head were flying creatures: fat, round, yellow insects with wasp stingers; they were the size of her head, and were responsible for the buzzing, for their wings fluttered incessantly. Elara’s ears had started to bleed due to the intense and persistent resounding, reverberating clangour of the pit. Raelus and Ava behind her were writhing in pain, clutching the sides of their heads as their ears filled with blood. Ava was shouting something but Elara could not hear her over the thunderous, jeering applause of ten thousand wings. Ava started pulling Elara back as she and Raelus tried to exit through the crawl space. Elara kicked and screamed, having gone completely raving mad from what she had seen. Raelus and Ava had not seen all the maggots, only the flying monstrosities, and had retained some level of composure. Elara’s mind could not grapple with the reality she had come to learn. As she kicked away from Ava she accidentally pushed herself over the edge of the crawl space, and she began to fall down into the pit of maggots. With a squishy landing she was absorbed by the mass of grotesque worms and they began to tear her apart for every morsel of flesh and blood she had to offer.