The gathering night filled the Livingston house with a heavy, almost palpable gloom. The storm did not abate, the wind moaned outside the windows, as if the mansion itself sighed from the centuries-old secrets that it had so carefully hidden. Arthur Havelock was lying on the bed, but sleep did not come. There were too many questions swirling in his head, too many inconsistencies and strange details that haunted him.

The silence of the room was suddenly interrupted by a strange sound. Something like a faint screeching sound coming from behind the wall. Havelock got up and, listening, realized that the sound was repeating itself. Barely audible, as if someone was scratching the wooden panels.

He put on a raincoat and, taking a lamp, slowly walked towards the source of the noise. The empty corridors of the mansion swallowed up his footsteps. The wind swayed the antique curtains, and the lamplight cast bizarre shadows on the walls. It seemed that something invisible but alive lurked around every corner.

The noise led him to an ancient gallery where there were portraits of the Livingstons' ancestors. The lamp illuminated one of the images—the face of an old man, whom Arthur had not paid attention to before. The signature read: "Lord Malcolm Livingston, 1794." Havelock did not know why his attention lingered on this portrait, but something in the eyes of the depicted was disturbing.

As soon as he got closer, there was a faint knock from behind, as if someone had quietly closed the door. Havelock turned sharply, but the corridor was empty.

"Damn," he whispered, feeling his blood run cold.

The next morning, after a restless night, Havelock decided to talk to members of the Livingston family. They were all alert and clearly scared. Poor Eleanor, the youngest daughter, was the first to approach him, her hands trembling slightly.

"You have to help us, Mr. Havelock," her voice was full of desperation. — Something terrible is happening here. Footsteps and strange voices are heard at night... And these portraits... I swear that sometimes I see them change their expressions.

Arthur was skeptical of such mystical stories, but judging by the expression on the girl's face, her fear was genuine.

"It's just an old house," he tried to reassure her. — Perhaps the house creaks in the wind, it is natural for such buildings.

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However, Havelock himself was not so sure of his words. He himself had seen and heard something strange last night. Could this be a coincidence, or were there really shadows of the past lurking in the house?

After talking with Eleanor, he turned to Mr. Charles, Harold's younger brother. Charles was withdrawn and kept his distance from the rest of the family.

— Have you noticed anything unusual in recent days? Havelock asked, examining his nervous movements.

—Of course," Charles replied shortly. — This house has always been there... strange. My father was looking for something here. Old books, ancient relics. He spent hours and sometimes days in the library, immersed in his research.

Havelock began to suspect that the connection between the events in the house and Lord Livingston's research was not accidental. Something about this mansion excited not only the family, but also the building itself.

By the end of the day, an event occurred in the house that increased the anxiety of all its inhabitants. One of the servants, a young man named James, who often ran errands for the lord, was missing. He hasn't shown up since last night. The search of the house and the territory did not yield any results. It was strange, because in the conditions of the storm, no one would be able to leave the house.

"Are you sure he couldn't just run away?" Havelock suggested, watching the mansion's steward nervously rubbing his hands.

— James? No, sir. He was a reliable man, he would never leave without warning," the manager replied. "Besides, where would he go in this weather?"

This disappearance increased Havelock's suspicions. Perhaps James knew something important or witnessed something that cost him his life. But the strangest thing was that the house seemed to be locked from the inside. How then could the servant disappear without a trace?

The next morning, while continuing his investigation, Havelock decided to take another look at the library where Lord Livingston spent so much time. Among the books, notes and old parchments, he came across a strange book that was hidden behind other volumes on one of the farthest shelves. The book was covered in dust, but when Arthur opened it, he saw that the pages had recently been turned over. It was an old diary written by Lord Livingstone himself.

The lines on the pages of the diary spoke of strange rituals held in this house many years ago. Lord Livingston wrote about how he was looking for some "powers" that would help him gain control over his legacy and his future. He mentioned the "awakening of ancient spirits", which were supposed to help him in his ambitious plans.

Arthur felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead. It wasn't just a fascination with ancient legends. Lord Livingstone was clearly trying to put ancient knowledge into practice.

On the last page of the diary there were several strange symbols and a single phrase: "Shadows come for their own." Havelock was not inclined to mysticism, but something in those words made his heart sink.

That night, events took an even darker turn. The wind was getting stronger, and the house seemed to be starting to live its own life. Havelock, following the sound of footsteps, found himself back in the same gallery where he had seen the portraits the day before. This time, Lord Malcolm Livingston's expression seemed even more sinister to him.

Suddenly, the light of the lamp began to flicker, and the shadows on the walls began to tremble, as if something or someone was moving inside the walls. Havelock froze, feeling the cold creep under his cloak.

— Who's here? His voice echoed in the empty hall.

There was no response. Only the slight creak of the doors behind him made him turn around. A shadow flickered in the depths of the corridor.

He rushed forward, trying to catch up with the figure, but it disappeared around a bend. At that moment, Havelock realized that everything in this house was not what it seemed. Here, not only the living hide their secrets, but also the ghosts of the past, who are haunted by forgotten sins.