Taking Spirits Beyond

The air hung heavy with an unspoken unease, a feeling I couldn't quite place, as I walked beside my mentor down a familiar trail.
Ahead, the ancient manor loomed, its faded paint peeling, its windows like vacant eyes staring out from beneath branches that stretched unnaturally into the sky. “I have an odd feeling,” I hesitated, the words catching in my throat.
My mentor, cane in hand, chuckled softly, his eyes keen despite their age. “Child, feeling is important. Keep that feeling, remember the feeling, as soon in time the feeling will soon make sense, and soon you will know.” He ordered us back, and as a child, I had no choice but to listen.
Days later, under a maroon moon, the feeling returned, a silent whimper in my chest. I awoke to find my mentor gone, his mat stained with blood. Fear gripped me, but a whispered voice cut through my despair, “Do not fear, do not hesitate to be yourself. You are free.”
It led me back to the manor. The doors, once chained, now stood open, inviting. I stepped inside, my heart pounding, knowing this was the beginning of my path, though I knew not where it would lead.
