I peered into the dark room before taking my first tentative step over its threshold. It was icy cold and deathly quiet. I shivered and watched the air from my lungs transform in fluffy white wisps which floated momentarily in front of my nose before disappearing altogether. I lingered near the secret entrance, reluctant to venture any further. It was pitch black inside and I knew without a torch, I wouldn't be able to see a thing.

I stepped back out the room and retreated away from the darkness in to the warm amber glow of the reception room. Looking around, I tried to find something that I could use to illuminate the secret room. At first glance there didn't appear to be anything of practical use. I'd hoped that there might have been battery powered flash light that had been tucked away somewhere in case of emergencies, but despite scouring the side boards, there was nothing but girly magazines and extra throws.

"Okay, I guess this requires some improvisation," I muttered to myself.

I thought about cobbling together a torch out of firewood and magazines, but then I spotted a large lavender scented candle on top of the fireplace mantel. The candle was clearly more for decoration purposes then lighting, but it would have to do. I had no matches so I carefully took it and hovered it over the flames inside the fireplace. The whole thing was a little haphazard but I did managed to light wick, albeit with a few singed fingers. Carefully I held the candle close to me, guarding it's precious flame with me hand, and carried it back to the secret room.

When I returned to the room, it felt colder and darker, I shivered and quietly whispered a prayer hoping that there was no spirits in this room that were going to jump out and hurt me. In the past I'd never been the praying type, but since encountering all these ghosts my attitude had changed. In fact just recently I'd been feeling that nothing short of divine intervention was going to save me from the mess I was in.

I entered the room, holding the candle close. The flame fluttered in the draft, so tiny and weak it came to close to extinguishing several times. I curled my palm around it, trying to shelter it from the breeze. It flickered a few more times and then seemed to grow stronger. The light escaped through the cracks of my fingers, throwing a dull orange light on to a large mahogany bureau covered in a thick layer of dust. I walked closer to the bureau and noticed in the middle of it was a book lying open. Taking the candle, I rested it down on the desk and picked up the book. The dust was so dense it obscured the actual print. Using the sleeve of my grey cardigan I began wiping the page.

To my surprise beautiful cursive handwriting appeared underneath, albeit a little faded with time. Reading the page it read:

'April 14 1989

Today will be my last entry. It has been a fortnight since I last visited here. I would have come sooner, had it not been for the guards. Since Celia's death I've not had a single day where the guards have not followed or spied on me. Tonight I was able to give them the slip and come back here and write this final entry in the hopes that someone in the future will find this journal and know the truth.

My youngest son Casper has been accused of heinous crime, a crime that he did not commit. I tried to plea for Casper's innocence, I tried to reason with Felix and Louis, but they would not listen. They think I am mad because of my condition, my darkness. I am not mad, I know my son is innocent, and it kills me to know he has been imprisoned by his own father and brother, and will likely never feel freedom again unless the truth is uncovered.

I know who the murderer is, although it sickens me to acknowledge admit it. I cannot bear to think that my own child is capable of such evil, to know that the wrong son was imprisoned in that awful place.

Oh my God ... I feel the darkness pressing in on me, and after all these years, it is only now I understand my mother's warnings ... only now it is too late.

Felix is dead, and with every passing hour I feel the darkness inside me growing.

I can not stay in this world for much longer, the danger is too great. I am sure that I'm loosing my mind slowly, I can feel the sickness inside of me brewing along with the terrible, terrible thoughts ... But I can not bear to let myself leave, when I fear my poor son, Casper, has been wrongly accused.

Oh god, I hear the guards.

They are near.

To whoever finds this, please know Casper is innocent. I wish I could tell you more, but I can hear them looking for me. To understand you must start back at the beginning, you must seek out the disgraced scholar Drabblestone-"

The journal entry ends there and when I turn the page I see only blank pages.

"Casper's innocent?" I murmur out loud.

I stumbled backwards away from the bureau, my head spinning. No this couldn't be right. If Casper didn't kill Celia, then it would've of had to have been Luc or Louis - but how could've it have been Louis? Celia was his mate, he loved her, but then if he hadn't of killed Celia then there was only one person left ... Luc.