THE RETURN OF SYLVESTER ADRIANNO-

In 1999, Sylvester Adrianno had just finished his studies at "Harrowgate University, London". The journey had been long, filled with late-night study sessions, missed calls from home, and fleeting moments of homesickness. But he had finally made it through. Now, after four years away, he felt the weight of returning home settle on his shoulders.

His home, situated far from the city, was isolated. Surrounded by towering trees, it stood like a dark, weathered figure against the backdrop of a fading sky. Sylvester didn’t mind the solitude—he’d grown used to it. After his father’s sudden death when he was only 15, Sylvester had become the man of the house. He was the one who looked after his mother, who had been suffering from a strange, deteriorating illness for years, and his younger siblings, Leo and Sarah

He thought he was ready for whatever awaited him, but little did he know that his return would soon unravel the threads of his life.

As Sylvester’s car crunched up the gravel driveway, memories from his childhood flooded back. He hadn’t realized how much he missed the familiar, though eerie, stillness of the place. His mother’s illness had kept her from leaving the house much, and the old, creaky house always felt a little too quiet.

When Sylvester opened the door, he was met with the excited faces of Leo and Sarah. Leo, his younger brother, was the first to break into a grin and rush forward, pulling Sylvester into a hug.

"Sylvester! You’re back!" Leo beamed, his voice bubbling with excitement.

Sylvester chuckled, ruffling his brother’s hair. “It’s good to see you, Leo. I missed you, kid.”

Sarah, his younger sister, stood behind him. Her smile was softer but just as warm. “Welcome home, Sylvester,” she said, her voice quiet yet filled with affection.

Sylvester smiled and knelt down to ruffle Sarah's hair. “You’ve grown up, Sarah. I swear, you’re taller than I remember.”

She giggled, but there was a hint of sadness in her eyes that Sylvester couldn’t place. “It’s just been a while, that’s all.”

After a brief reunion and some small talk, Sylvester excused himself to check on his mother. He hadn’t seen her in months, and the thought of her fragile state made his stomach twist.

“I’ll be upstairs with Mom,” he said, looking at Leo and Sarah.

As he climbed the long, narrow staircase, the sound of his feet echoing off the wood felt like a reminder of the years he had spent away. The old house creaked under the weight of time, the silence broken only by the occasional gust of wind rattling the windows. Sylvester’s breath quickened as he reached the door to his mother’s room.

He knocked softly, “Mom, can I come in? It’s Sylvester.”

There was no response. He tried again, but the room remained still. He gently turned the doorknob and walked in.

His mother lay on the bed, her face pale and gaunt, her eyes wide and unblinking. She was staring blankly at the ceiling. The heavy silence felt suffocating.

“Mom?” Sylvester said, walking to her side and taking her hand in his. He could feel the thinness of her fingers.

“It’s me, Sylvester. I’m home. College was tough, but I made it. I passed all my exams. And I made some new friends… you’d like them.”

His mother didn’t react. Her eyes remained fixed on the ceiling. Her breath was shallow, almost imperceptible.

Sylvester forced a smile, squeezing her hand gently.

“I’ve been thinking about you every day. I promised I’d take care of you, right? We’ll get through this.”

His voice cracked at the end, the weight of the promise settling deeper in his chest. But his mother didn’t respond. She simply stared, lost in her own world.

And then, without warning, her eyes widened in terror. She gasped, her chest rising with panic. “It’s here… it’s coming for us…” Her voice trembled.

Sylvester’s heart skipped a beat. “Mom, it’s okay. Calm down. It’s just me, Sylvester. Everything’s fine…”

But his mother’s fear only grew. She clutched his hand with a strength he didn’t expect, her body trembling. “It’s coming! I saw it—its eyes!”

Sylvester didn’t know how to calm her. “Mom, listen to me. You’re safe. I’m here.”

She closed her eyes tightly, muttering something under her breath, her body relaxing only when Sylvester continued stroking her hair. It took a long time before she stopped trembling.

The week that followed was filled with uneasy silence. Sylvester kept watch over his mother, who became even more withdrawn and strange. She would sit at the window for hours, gazing out into the thick woods, her eyes glazed over as if she were seeing something no one else could.

Sometimes, she muttered to herself, phrases that made no sense. “They’re watching us... they’re waiting...” Other times, she would scream suddenly, as if in pain, but when Sylvester rushed to her side, she’d be as silent as a stone.

One night, Sylvester woke to a shrill scream. He rushed into her room, his heart pounding. His mother was clutching her chest, her face twisted in terror. “Sylvester… they’re here. It’s time. I’m sorry... I couldn’t stop it..."

“Mom, please, calm down. You’re scaring me…” Sylvester said, trying to soothe her, but it was too late.

His mother passed away in her sleep that night.

The funeral was quiet, somber. They buried her under the old oak tree in the garden, the one his father had planted years ago. Sylvester stood at the edge of the grave, his hands clenched into fists.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” he whispered, his voice raw with grief.

“I couldn’t protect you.”

But the sorrow didn’t end with her burial. That night, as Sylvester lay in his bed, he heard a faint whisper. “Sylvester… Sylvester…”

He sat up in shock. Sarah was in the room, her face pale. “I heard Mom’s voice,” she whispered, her eyes wide with fear. “She called me, Sylvester. She called my name.”

Leo stood in the doorway, his face ashen. “I heard it too. It’s like she’s still here.”

They huddled together, their fear palpable. But the whispers didn’t stop.

Each night, the voice of their mother would call to them—softly, eerily. At times, the figure of their mother would appear in the shadows, her face blurred, as if she were standing just out of reach.

It wasn’t just Sarah. Sylvester and Leo experienced the same things. It seemed their mother’s presence lingered, even after death.

Determined to understand what was happening, Sylvester spent countless hours searching for answers. Finally, in a dusty corner of the house, he found a box filled with old papers—documents his parents had kept hidden. One particular letter caught his eye, written in his father’s hand.

Sylvester read the letter aloud to Leo and Sarah.

“After we were married, your mother couldn’t have children... and she became heartbroken. Desperate, we made a deal with something dark, something powerful. The first daughter we had would be given to the devil on her tenth birthday. It was a promise, and the price must be paid.”

Sarah's face drained of color. “What... what does this mean?”

Sylvester’s voice was shaky as he continued. “It means... Mom’s illness, Dad’s death, it wasn’t natural. They broke their promise. And now the spirit is coming for us.”

*Sarah with a scared and pale face*-- "I'm scared" (sobbing)

Sylvester anxiously tries to reassure his sister Sarah

"Everything will be fine, we'll face it together. I promise"

For a moment, the situation calmed down.

Night came, after putting his two sisters to bed, he went to his room and couldn't sleep because of the worry that began to overwhelm him about the situation they would face, especially his sister.

The days following their mother funeral were a blur of fear and sleepless nights. The whispering voices grew louder, the shadows seemed to dance with malevolent intent.

Sylvester's patience was strecthed to its limits. He refused to lose his sister

to the same terror that claimed their mother.

*Tomorrow morning*

Slyvester called his brother, Leo to meet him at the dining room. As soon as Leo arrived and sat down next to him...

"We can't live like this," Sylvester muttered, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "we need help".

Leo nodded, his face pale and drawn. " but who can help us with something like this?"

Slyvester thought hard. He remembered old stories, whispers from the neighbors about people who dealt with things that couldn't be explained by logic and reason.

That afternoon, Sylvester drove to a neighboring village with Leo and Sarah. They found themselves standing before a small, stone house draped in herbs, feathers, and symbols etched into the doorframe. A woman with long gray hair and eyes like deep pools of water—the shaman—stood waiting, as if she’d known they were coming. Beside her was a tall, solemn man in a simple black cassock—the priest.

“You seek freedom from the darkness,” the shaman said, her voice low and knowing.

Sylvester nodded. “We need your help. Our house is haunted, and my sister… I can’t let it take her.”

The priest’s eyes were filled with compassion.

“This darkness has roots in something old, something vile. But faith and strength will see us through.”

That evening, they returned to the house. The sky darkened, clouds rolling in like an omen. Inside, the air felt suffocating, the temperature dropping unnaturally low.

The shaman began to spread a circle of salt and herbs in the center of the living room. The priest set candles at the four cardinal points, their flames flickering, casting long, trembling shadows across the walls.

“Hold each other’s hands,” the priest instructed. “Your bond is your greatest defense.”

Sylvester took Leo’s hand, and Leo took Sarah’s. Sarah’s fingers were cold, her eyes distant.

The shaman closed her eyes, chanting softly in a language older than the trees outside. Her voice seemed to reach into the walls of the house, pulling at the unseen shadows.

Shaman:

"Spirits of shadow, bound by cursed words,

By earth and flame, I sever your cords.

You shall have no hold, no refuge here.

By the light of truth, you disappear!"

The room shuddered as if the house itself were resisting. A low growl filled the air, a sound that made Sylvester’s blood run cold.

Priest:

"In the name of the Holy Light,

I banish the darkness that binds this place.

No evil shall dwell here, no fear shall linger.

Begone, foul spirit, into the void from whence you came!"

Together, they performed a ritual, praying for the evil spirit to leave. The air was thick with tension, as the room grew colder and the shadows seemed to deepen.

With one final chant, the evil spirit let out a wailing scream and vanished, leaving nothing but silence behind.

Shaman:

"you have to be careful, the darkness might came again"

A year later, Sylvester, Leo, and Sarah moved away, far from the house, to start fresh. But their nightmare wasn’t over. Sarah began to change. She would talk to someone no one could see. She began wandering off at night, looking out the window, as if waiting for something.

Sylvest feared that the evil spirit hadn’t truly left. The haunting was still far from over.

To be continue...

Anna arrived first, her dark eyes sharp and observant. “Okay, Sylvester, tell me everything.”

Sylvester sighed, rubbing his temples.

“It started a few days after we moved here. Sarah talks to herself, stares into corners, and... there’s something in her voice. It’s not her.”

Marie, arriving with her ever-present notebook, flipped to a page filled with symbols and notes.

“This sounds like a possession. Or maybe... a curse.”

Andy walked in, arms crossed.

“A curse? Come on, Marie. It’s probably psychological trauma.”

Mario, quiet as always, studied Sylvester.

“What does your gut say?”

Sylvester hesitated. “I want to believe it’s trauma, but... my gut says something darker is happening. My parents made a deal with... something. And it wants Sarah.”

A chill settled over the room. The truth was worse than any of them imagined.

When Leo burst in, his face pale with fear, the tension snapped.

"Sarah's in the basement," he panted. "She’s talking to someone."

Sylvester’s stomach twisted. “We don’t have a basement.”

Without hesitation, Anna grabbed a flashlight. “We’re going to figure this out.”

Together, they pushed aside the old bookcase, revealing a narrow door. The hinges creaked as it opened, a cold draft rushing out. The staircase spiraled into blackness.

“Stay close,” Mario whispered.

They descended, each step taking them deeper into an eerie chill. The flashlight beam wavered, illuminating the damp stone walls. At the bottom, Sarah stood with her back to them, her small frame unnaturally still.

Her voice echoed through the darkness, low and distorted.

“You can’t protect me, Sylvester. They already own me.”

She turned, her eyes glimmering with an unnatural light. The shadows at her feet rippled and stretched toward them like oily tentacles.

Marie gasped, clutching her notebook.

“The shadows—they’re alive.”

Andy stepped forward, shielding everyone. “We need to get her out of here.”

“No!” Mario’s voice was sharp. “If we take her now, the spirit could follow. We need to sever its connection first.”

Sylvester’s chest tightened. “Our parents’ deal... it didn’t end when we moved.”

Anna’s jaw clenched. “Then we end it ourselves.”

Upstairs, Sarah sat in the living room, staring blankly at the wall. Her presence was unnerving, like a porcelain doll with cracks just under the surface.

The group huddled in the kitchen.

Marie flipped through her notebook.

“If this is a spirit bound by a deal, there has to be a way to break it. Most spirits need something to anchor them—a token, a place, or a ritual.”

Andy leaned over the table. “So what do we need to do? Destroy the anchor?”

“Maybe,” Marie replied. “But first, we have to identify it.”

Sylvester thought back to his parents’ strange behavior before his mother’s death.

“There was a box my mother kept hidden. I don’t know what was in it, but she was terrified of anyone finding it.”

“That could be the anchor,” Anna said. “Where’s the box now?”

“In the attic,” Sylvester replied. “I didn’t want to open it. It felt... wrong.”

Mario nodded. “We need to face it. All of us.”

The attic smelled of dust and forgotten memories. Boxes were piled high, but one stood out: a small, blackened chest bound in iron. The air around it pulsed with a sickening energy.

Sylvester hesitated, his hand trembling as he touched the cold metal.

Anna’s voice was firm. “We’re here. You’re not alone.”

With a deep breath, Sylvester opened the box. Inside lay a bundle of old, brittle parchment covered in strange symbols. A faint whisper slithered through the air, caressing their ears.

*The debt is not paid!!!

Marie’s eyes widened. “This is a binding contract. Your parents offered Sarah in exchange for something. Health, power, protection—whatever it was, they didn’t pay the price.”

Andy clenched his fists. “So how do we break it?”

Marie studied the parchment. “We need to destroy this contract in a purification ritual. But it won’t be easy—the spirit won’t let go without a fight.”

That night, they gathered in the living room. Candles flickered, casting long shadows on the walls. Sarah sat in the center, her expression vacant. The contract lay before her.

Marie traced a circle of salt around them. “Once we start, no one leaves the circle.”

Sylvester took Sarah’s hand. “We’re going to save you.”

As Marie began chanting, the temperature plummeted. The shadows thickened, twisting into grotesque shapes. A guttural voice hissed from the darkness.

“She is mine.”

Sarah's body convulsed. Her eyes rolled back, and her mouth twisted into a snarl. Andy and Mario held her steady as she thrashed.

Marie’s voice grew louder, her chant unwavering. “By the light of purity, by the strength of unity, we sever this bond!”

The shadows lunged, but they hit the salt barrier, sizzling like acid. Sylvester held on, his heart pounding.

“Stay with me, Sarah!” he cried.

A piercing scream erupted from her throat. The shadows recoiled, writhing in agony.

With one final chant, Marie thrust the parchment into the candle flame. The contract ignited, burning with an unnatural blue light. The spirit’s scream reverberated through the room before fading into silence.

Sarah's body went limp. The shadows dissolved. The room filled with a heavy stillness.

Sylvester cradled his sister, tears streaming down his face. “Sarah?”

Her eyes fluttered open. “Sylvester... is it over?”

He nodded, his friends surrounding them. “It’s over. We’re safe. For now"

To be continue.....

The fire crackled, its warm glow flickering against the shadows, leaving behind only smoldering ash where the cursed contract had once lain. The oppressive weight that had filled the room seemed to lift, the silence settling like a heavy fog. Sylvester held Sarah close, her body warm, her breath slow and steady. Relief flooded through him, but there was still a cold knot in his chest, a lingering fear he couldn’t shake.

"Is it really over?" Andy’s voice broke the stillness, low and uncertain, as if he feared to break the fragile peace.

Marie stood a few steps away, her eyes darting around the room, cautious. "

No, but for now, yes," she murmured, her voice trembling slightly. "The contract is destroyed, but breaking a deal like that doesn’t come without consequences."

Anna, who had been watching intently, furrowed her brow, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. "What do you mean?"

Marie’s fingers trembled as she shut her notebook, her eyes distant.

"Spirits bound by contracts don’t just disappear. They’re banished, and weakened, but they don’t forget. And they don’t forgive."

A cold shiver passed through the group. The very air around them seemed to shift, the faintest whisper brushing against their skin. Mario, always calm, broke the silence with his usual quiet determination. "Then we stay ready. If it comes back, we’ll be ready."

The sound of a distant wind howling through the trees outside added an eerie undertone to his words, setting the group on edge.

The next morning, Sylvester woke to the sound of birds chirping outside the window, their song a sharp contrast to the haunting silence of the night before. Sunlight streamed through the curtains, casting long shadows across the room. For the first time in weeks, Sarah slept peacefully beside him, her breath soft and even. But even as the warmth of the sun bathed the room, a chill lingered deep within Sylvester’s heart.

Leo, his voice barely above a whisper, peeked into the room, his eyes filled with cautious hope. "Is she... okay now?"

Sylvester nodded, though the uncertainty in his voice betrayed his true feelings. "I think so." But doubt gnawed at him. The spirit was gone, but the price of defying it still hung over them, a weight he could not shake.

Later that day, they gathered at the park, the quiet breeze rustling the leaves, a fleeting sense of peace hanging in the air. But it felt hollow, the sky too clear, the world too calm. The unease in their hearts settled deep into their bones.

"I’ve been thinking," Sylvester started, breaking the silence, his voice tinged with a mix of fear and determination.

"Why did the spirit target our family in the first place? Why did my parents make that deal?"

Marie, her fingers brushing the edge of her notebook, looked up, her eyes filled with thought. "Deals with spirits are never random. There’s always a history, a reason. We need to understand what your parents were hiding."

Andy nodded, his jaw tight with resolve. "If we know why the deal was made, we can make sure it doesn’t come back."

Sylvester stared off into the distance, the echoes of his parents’ secrets weighing heavily on his mind. The past had always seemed distant, but now it was creeping back, threatening to destroy everything they had fought for.

The evening was thick with silence as they ventured back to Sylvester’s house, their footsteps creaking on the old wood as they made their way up the stairs. The house, with its peeling wallpaper and long-forgotten corners, seemed almost alive, as though it was watching them.

As they entered the attic, dust particles swirled in the air, catching the dim light from the lone bulb above. The air was stale, thick with the smell of old paper and forgotten memories. Sylvester’s heart pounded as they sifted through boxes of letters, faded photographs, and journals filled with the secrets of his family.

Anna sat cross-legged on the floor, carefully unfolding a fragile letter. "Listen to this," she said, her voice tight with unease. Her fingers trembled as she read aloud, the words lingering in the air like a curse.

"We had no choice. The sickness was spreading, and they promised us protection too. We didn’t know the cost until it was too late."

Sylvester’s breath caught in his throat, a cold shiver racing down his spine. "They did it to save us," he whispered, the realization hitting him like a blow to the chest.

Mario, his face hard with concentration, sifted through a stack of old documents. "What kind of sickness?" he muttered, scanning the pages.

Marie picked up a dusty medical record, her eyes scanning the words, her voice barely above a whisper.

"It says here that your mother was one of the first to fall ill. Maybe they struck the deal to protect the rest of the family."

Andy’s voice tightened with fury.

"They made the deal to keep you and Sarah safe, but the spirit demanded something in return. A life for a life."

Sylvester’s fists clenched, the sound of his breath heavy in the silence. "And now that we’ve broken the deal, what happens if it comes back for revenge?" His words hung in the air, thick with fear.

In the days that followed, strange things began happening. Cold spots appeared in random parts of the house, sending a chill down their spines every time they walked through them. The shadows seemed to flicker just out of sight, moving in ways that defied logic. At night, they could hear whispers—faint, insistent, as if someone was standing just beyond their reach.

One evening, as Sylvester entered Sarah’s room, he found her sitting on the edge of her bed, her face pale, her eyes wide with fear.

"It’s not gone, is it?" she whispered, her voice barely audible, like a breath on the wind.

"No, I'm sorry Sarah, it might not totally gone." Sylvester said, his voice trembling. The uncertainty in his words was stark, his heart pounding in his chest. "But we’ll fight it."

Outside, the wind howled, rattling the windows like the voice of the spirit itself. The house groaned under the weight of the past, and Sylvester felt the invisible presence return with every creak of the floorboard.

Marie, her face drawn with exhaustion, pored over every book she could find, the rustle of pages filling the silence. Hours passed, the only sounds in the room the quiet crackling of a fire and the turning of pages. Finally, she looked up, her eyes wide with fear.

"It’s a Shadow Binder," she said, her voice sharp with dread.

"They make deals to trap souls in the darkness. If they’re denied their payment, they grow vengeful. Breaking the contract weakened it, but it will try to reclaim what it believes is owed."

Anna’s eyes hardened, the truth settling like a weight in the room. "So we didn’t defeat it. We only bought time."

The air in the room felt heavy, oppressive. Andy stood, his fists clenched at his sides, his voice firm and unwavering. "Then we use that time to figure out how to destroy it permanently."

The sound of a clock ticking loudly in the corner filled the space, reminding them of the time they were running out of.

The following days were filled with intense preparation. Marie gathered protective symbols and charms, her hands moving with practiced precision as she arranged them around the house. Mario researched rituals for permanent banishment, the rustling of ancient scrolls and texts echoing in the quiet corners of the room. Andy trained in silence, his movements swift and sure, ready to defend his friends no matter the cost.

Anna, always the strategist, planned every step, her voice steady as she mapped out their next move. She knew they couldn’t do this alone. They needed help, and they sought the shaman and priest once again, desperate for guidance and strength.

Sylvester and Leo stayed close to Sarah, offering her comfort, their presence a silent promise to stand together. The bond between them had never been stronger.

"We’re not just going to survive this," Sylvester said one night, his voice low and resolute, "We’re going to end it. For good."

Sarah looked up, her eyes filled with a flicker of hope that had been absent for weeks. "Together?"

He smiled, the weight of their shared promise grounding him. "Always."

To Be Continued...