Lost Whispers of the Ice Court

Nela stood in the middle of the deserted courtyard, looking out at the old mansion that rose out of the mist like a frozen castle from another world. Philip, her brother two years younger, squeezed her hand so tightly that she felt ants in her fingers. - 'Do you think it's really scary in here? - whispered Philip, trying to look brave. Nela smiled roguishly, although her heart was beating like crazy. - 'Only if we're scared, the ghosts feel it,' she said, quoting her grandfather's stories. The smell of frost and old dust hung in the air. The tall windows of the manor house, broken and covered in cobwebs, seemed to stare at them curiously. Leaves rustled under their shoes and the staircase leading inside creaked, as if warning them to enter. But curiosity was stronger than fear - and before long they were standing in a shadowy corridor, where the echo of their footsteps mingled with something else... the quiet whispers that seemed to circulate through the walls. - Can you hear it? - Philip turned pale. - 'It's just the wind,' Nela said, although she wasn't so sure herself. They went on, shining the torch at each other. Old trunks piled up everywhere, boxes full of damaged notebooks, and portraits of people with watchful, slightly misty eyes hung on the walls. When they reached under the stairs leading to the attic, Nela felt a sudden chill. - 'We have to go up there,' she whispered, pointing to the darkness of the floor above. With each step there were more and more whispers - quiet, interrupted, as if someone was trying to tell them something... or warn them. Amid the dust and cobwebs, there was a sudden crash. Nela stopped abruptly. Then the attic door slowly began to swing open with a protracted creak. An icy mist gushed from within, and in the centre of it slowly outlined an indistinct shape.... Should they go in further? Or should they turn back before it was too late?