The House With No Doors

"Yeah I would agree. Can't say if they're the ones responsible for our current situation but they probably built this place or at least owned it at some point!"

Carter looked at the smiling face of the woman, she looked like she was someone’s mother. She had a kind face and soft brown eyes.

“Hard to imagine they could be the people who are doing all of this”

Sally-Anna shrugged. "Going off the picture yup, but ehh you'd never hang a picture of yourself in a bad light so we have no idea what the actual people were like."

Carter almost smiled.
He walked over to the fireplace which looked like it had been burning a few hours ago from the ashes. He leaned over when he spotted something on the floor in front of it.

“Uh, I think I see something here”

Sally-Anna drifted towards it. "Ooh that was put out very recently. That's a little telling."

Petrus had been a little slower to follow after everyone. He'd entered the first room before everyone, but he wasn't so quick to leave it until he was sure he'd thoroughly searched it for clues. As the others had already deduced, the only thing unusual about the billiard room had been the message and evidence of a quickly interrupted sit-down for tea. A bit disappointed, he followed in behind the others into the next room, looking up at the painting that the room was surrounded by, and then the evidence of fresh ashes in the fireplace.

Someone was in this home. Or very recently left.

He looked again at the painting, musing over the details. It was a personal portrait, and it would be odd if it was placed as a red herring. Portraits were displayed in homes when they were of people known by the residents, or they were of the residents themselves. If people were putting portraits of strangers on display, it was usually only in the context of historical paintings.

So, it had meaning. They didn't have enough information to determine what it was yet, but they were going to piece things together.

Bit by bit.

He drew nearer to Carter by the dead fire. As someone who worked in a smithy, he knew how to judge the age of coals. Especially since the person who left it hadn't cleaned out the ashes.

"Seems like whoever was here, left in a hurry," Petrus said. "Or they knew when we'd arise and prepared for it."

Fred quickly caught up with the rest of the group in the new room that they had discovered, floating through the doorway. The portraits were a little creepy, as they seemed to be staring directly into his eyes. And the fact that the fire was new...that was very strange.

It was a message, but not a note. Burned into the wooden floor, the words were smoking.

How far would you go to get what you want?

Carter gulped down his fear. He looked at the others.

"What do we all want?" his voice quivered as he asked.

But he knew what he wanted, what they all wanted.

To get out.