Chapter 6: The Forbidden Wing
The west wing of Deadly Delights Inn loomed before Ezra like a bad decision waiting to happen. The hallway stretched out into shadows so deep they seemed to swallow the dim glow of his lantern. The air was colder here—sharper, almost metallic—and Ezra couldn't help but feel like the walls themselves were watching him.
"This is fine," he whispered, trying to convince himself. "Totally fine. Just chasing ghost music into a forbidden area. Nothing screams job security like trespassing."
The melody that had drawn him here was fainter now, its notes lilting and teasing as if daring him to follow. Each creak of the floorboards under his boots sounded like a warning. Grimwald's stern voice echoed in his mind: "Stay out of the west wing."
"Well, Grimwald," Ezra muttered, gripping his lantern tightly, "if this gets me fired, I'm blaming the ghost symphony."
---
The doors lining the west wing weren't like the ones in the rest of the inn. Each was unique, carved with intricate patterns that seemed to shift in the flickering lantern light. Ezra paused in front of one, running his fingers over the swirling designs.
"These doors are fancier than my landlord's entire apartment," he said. "Figures ghosts get the VIP treatment."
The music grew louder as he approached the end of the corridor, where a single door stood slightly ajar. Unlike the others, this one was plain—no carvings, no decorations, just an unassuming slab of wood that looked like it had been slapped on as an afterthought.
Ezra hesitated. The rest of the corridor stretched behind him, dark and uninviting, but somehow less terrifying than the doorway in front of him. He glanced over his shoulder, half hoping Grimwald or Lady Marrow would appear and stop him.
But the hall was empty.
"This is such a bad idea," he muttered, taking a shaky breath. "But, hey, what's life without a little reckless curiosity?"
With a reluctant shove, he pushed the door open.
---
The room beyond was small and dim, lit only by a single candle on a table in the center. The flickering flame cast long, jittery shadows on the walls, making the space feel alive in a way that set Ezra's nerves on edge. The music that had lured him here stopped the moment he stepped inside, replaced by an oppressive silence.
"Okay, great," he said, his voice barely masking his unease. "Silent room, creepy candle, no exit music. This is just textbook haunted."
The door creaked shut behind him, and Ezra jumped, spinning around to find himself alone. The shadows on the walls seemed to lean closer, pressing in on him, and he suddenly felt like he couldn't breathe. He took a step toward the table, the light from his lantern mingling with the candle's weak glow.
On the table sat a small, ornate music box. Its brass surface was tarnished with age, and its delicate carvings caught the light in strange, almost hypnotic patterns. Ezra tilted his head, a strange sense of familiarity tugging at the edges of his mind.
"Okay, what are you?" he murmured, reaching out hesitantly. His fingers brushed against the cool metal, and the moment he made contact, the candle snuffed out.
Darkness consumed the room.
---
Ezra fumbled with the lantern, his hands trembling as he tried to relight it. The flint sparked weakly, but the flame refused to catch. His breathing grew shallow, and his heartbeat thundered in his ears.
"Alright, deep breaths," he muttered, though his voice wavered. "It's just a dark room. With a haunted music box. In a forbidden wing. Nothing I can't handle."
A soft creak sounded behind him, and Ezra froze. The tiny hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as the faintest of whispers brushed against his ears. Slowly, he turned, holding the unlit lantern in front of him like a shield.
The room was empty—or at least, it appeared that way. But something felt wrong. The air was heavier now, suffocating in its intensity, and the shadows on the walls seemed to shift with a will of their own.
"Who's there?" Ezra called, his voice cracking slightly. "If you're going to haunt me, can we just get it over with?"
The silence that followed was deafening. Then, without warning, the music box began to play.
---
The melody was hauntingly slow, each note piercing through Ezra's chest like a tangible force. He backed away from the table, bumping into the door as panic clawed its way up his spine.
"Alright, nope," he muttered, twisting the door handle. "I'm officially done. Let me out."
But the door didn't budge. He pulled harder, slamming his shoulder against the wood. "Come on!" he shouted. "Open up!"
The music grew louder, its once-ethereal tune twisting into something discordant and grating. Ezra felt his chest tighten as the shadows began to ripple and pulse like living things.
"Okay, okay, you win!" he yelled, slamming his fists against the door. "Just let me out, and I promise I'll never snoop again!"
The music stopped abruptly, leaving behind an oppressive silence. Ezra froze, his hand still on the doorknob. For a moment, nothing happened.
Then he heard it—a faint, raspy breath right behind his ear.
He didn't think. He didn't hesitate. He just ran.
---
Ezra didn't remember how he got back to his room. One moment he was slamming through the corridors, and the next he was leaning against his own door, chest heaving as he locked himself in. His lantern flickered weakly, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch farther than they should.
"This place is going to be the death of me," he muttered, sliding down to the floor. "And I'm not even getting paid enough for this."
The whispers that had plagued him the previous nights were gone, replaced by an eerie stillness. But Ezra's unease only grew as his gaze drifted toward his bed. Something small and metallic glinted faintly on the floor beside it.
A music box key.
Ezra stared at it, his heart pounding all over again. "Oh, come on," he whispered. "Can't a guy get a break?"
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
furrfun
furrfun "Ezra has officially leveled up in the 'Bad Decisions' department by entering the forbidden west wing. Music boxes, shadows, and a raspy breath? Classic horror combo. Would you have opened the door... or sprinted back to bed like a sane person? Let me know—preferably while I’m hiding behind my own locked door."
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone