by T. Kay

Created on: April 15, 2008

CHAPTER ONE

The stained oak floorboards creaked underneath his weight, protesting the twelve-year-old's passage as he crept down the stairs, the moonlight showing the way, past the red velvet curtains that had been drawn closed when the sun had slipped below the horizon, and around the Lion's head on the post that proclaimed the stair's beginning and ending. His normally sandy-brown mop of hair gleamed silver from the moonlight, but as he turned around the post, he was quickly cast in the shadows once again. Even his normally piercing green eyes had lost their color as he continued ahead in the darkness.

Gray Chanon crept past the marble top table that was littered with family photographs and heirlooms of the Stevenson Family. The door he neared was the door he feared. It starkly contrasted against the extravagant decorations, furniture, and wardrobe that proclaimed the rich Stevenson heritage. Instead, this door was drab, narrow, and nothing of importance proclaimed it's passage because it only led to the basement.

The Stevenson Mansion stood four levels high and two levels below.

The first time Gray had crept down to the dungeon had been on a dare when he had vacationed with his only two friends from Settan Hill.

Jess thought it would be funny to see who'd go into the Ghost's Paradise. Gray had been the unlucky one to draw the short straw and he groaned in dismay while Libby had thrown herself back on the bed, her two black braids bounced off the pillow, as she heaved deep breaths of relief.

Gray hadn't been the happiest, but he knew that if anyone should've taken the first exploration through the dreaded basement, it should've been him. Unlike his two best friends since third grade, Gray knew what moved in the darkness and shadows. His friends were blissfully unaware, but that didn't mean he was about to enlighten them. They'd find out eventually. Everyone did.

And so had been his first trek to the dreaded downstairs.

Gray was unsurprisingly quiet about the first time he'd crept down the stairs and explored only one room in the basement of never-ending rooms. That had been Jess's dare. He only had to go into one room, probably the closest, and grab something to prove his quest.

As he had silently tread down over the cement stairs with cracked edges, Gray needed to pause half-way down to take a calming breath. His fingers had trembled on the long mahogany pole that resembled the stair's railing.

Too many shadows moved at the bottom of the floor. Gray saw each and

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