The Heir's Dominance

2

"Don’t open it! If you open that door now, your head will roll off before you’ve even had a chance to get out of the way!" The voice of the Spirit of the Padlock boomed right next to Harry’s head.

Harry froze on the spot. His hands, trembling violently, came to a halt just a few centimetres from the wooden hinge in front of him.

Outside, Jack’s voice was still wailing, calling his name in a tone of terror that grew ever more heart-rending.

“Harry! O-pen…, Harry !”

The voice sounded all too real. There was a tremor in it that Harry recognized all too well. Harry’s throat tightened; his breath caught in his chest.

“But… but that’s Jack’s voice!” whispered Harry, almost shouting. His eyes widened as he stared at the crack in the rotten wooden door. “He’s outside! He needs my help!”

“Your cowardly friend has been unconscious in his car for the past five minutes,” replied the spirit of the padlock in an extraordinarily calm tone.

The invisible creature, taking the form of a tall figure in a black suit, hovered, circling above Harry’s head. His suit fluttered in the air, even though there was no draught in the room. He folded his arms across his chest, gazing down at Harry with a condescending look.

The invisible creature, taking the form of a tall figure in a black suit, hovered, circling above Harry’s head. His suit fluttered, even though there was no draught in the room. He folded his arms across his chest, gazing down at Harry with a condescending look.

“The voice you heard outside belongs to the Eyeless Barong Mask,” continued the Spirit of the Padlock, tapping his chin as if trying to remember.

"That’s your grandmother’s old collection—she managed to escape three years ago. That vile creature has the ability to mimic the voice of the person you most want to save. Don’t be fooled by such a cheap illusion, lad!"

CRASH! CRASH!

The old wooden door of the antique shop suddenly shook violently. The heavy blows from outside caused thick layers of dust to collapse from the ceiling.

Through the crack in the door, which was now ajar by a few centimetres, Harry’s gaze fell upon something terrifying.

A pair of jet-black, horned twigs were writhing their way through the gap. The twigs moved supple as a snake’s tentacles, groping at the doorknob from the inside as if trying to force it open.

A foul stench began to fill the entire room. The smell of rotting fish mingled with the scent of damp earth and a pungent whiff of sulfur. The odor was so overpowering that it made Harry feel sick.

Harry coughed repeatedly, clutching his stomach as he felt an overwhelming wave of nausea, and nearly vomited onto the floor. He instinctively took two steps back.

A cold sweat began to dampen his forehead, and the office shirt was still clinging to his body. The words of the suited figure above him were instantly proven true. Whatever was behind that door was clearly not Jack. It wasn’t human!

“So what am I supposed to do?!” Harry screamed. His voice cracked, tinged with the panic that had taken complete hold of his consciousness. His survival instinct screamed hysterically, demanding that he run and hide.

But where to? The shop was locked and besieged by a terror that defied all reason.

“I’m just an accounts clerk!” Harry shouted frantically. “I’m no shaman, no ghost hunter, and I can’t exorcise demons! How on earth am I supposed to get out of here?” he said in frustration.

“Start by using your brain, lad!” The Spirit of the Padlock glided down at lightning speed, bringing its expressionless face to rest just a few centimetres in front of Harry’s nose.

The Spirit of the Padlock’s eyes glowed with a faint red light. “Your blood has dripped onto and bound this padlock pendant. By the occult laws of this shop, you are its new rightful owner. Use your grandmother’s memories, as recorded in the shop journal! What object in this room can be used to contain or neutralize that rotten wood?”

Harry’s thoughts were racing wildly amidst his mental turmoil. He was breathing heavily! He was a highly rational person, always relying on data and figures. One of his strengths was his photographic memory for visual details.

Last night, whilst he was forced to leaf through the pages of his grandmother’s tattered journal that she had given him… he had come across a strange diagram about mystical elements. There was a description of the interactions between materials.

Rotten wood… the cursed element of wood… Harry racked his brains, trying to visualize his grandmother’s handwriting, which was so difficult to read.

Pure metal… Silver!

“Silver!...” Harry suddenly cried out. His eyes widened. “In Granny’s notes… Granny said that pure silver can neutralize and destroy the cursed wood!”

DOOM!

Before Harry could even breathe a sigh of relief at having found the answer, the wooden front door of the shop was completely smashed in.

With unimaginable force, the door hinges could not withstand the impact. The clang of the falling metal hinges striking the wooden floor rang out loud and clear.

The wooden panelling of the door scattered into sharp splinters as a tall, masked figure burst through. The figure was so tall it nearly touched the top of the doorframe.

The wooden door panelling shattered into sharp splinters as a tall, masked figure burst through. The figure was so tall it almost touched the top of the doorframe.

Its body consisted of twisted, dry black twigs intertwined to form a gaunt and terrifying human-like figure. Perched upon its shoulders was an intricately carved wooden barong mask, flat and without eyelids, featuring only two deep, empty, dark holes.

Ssshhhaaarrk!

The black branches on the creature’s body smashed through the nearest glass display case as it stepped inside. The items it struck fell and shattered.

From within the hollow of the wooden mask came a shrill, hoarse roar so loud it was deafening. The sound was so piercing it made Harry’s eardrums vibrate and his brain throb with pain.

The Barong Mask figure tilted its stiff head. Its empty eye sockets were directed straight at the spot where Harry was standing.

“Hand it over…” a shrill, trembling voice came from inside the mask.

Harry immediately searched the pile of debris for something made of metal. He ignored the danger of the sharp shards of glass scattered around his feet.

Harry’s shirt sleeve was slashed by shards of glass, causing fresh blood to trickle down, but his fear was greater and drowned out the pain. His hand managed to find it! An old, dull-silver dagger with a handle shaped like a small, coiling dragon lay amongst the pile of rubbish.

The air suddenly turned cold. The Barong Mask leapt forward with a speed that seemed impossible for a wooden creature. Its sharp, elongated black twig-claws shot straight towards Harry’s neck!

“Get out of here!” Harry screamed instinctively.

With no magical powers and no martial arts training, Harry relied solely on the pure impulse of his survival instinct.

He grabbed the silver dagger with his right hand, spun round as quickly as he could, and recklessly countered the attack. Harry plunged the silver dagger with all his might right into the center of the Barong mask’s forehead!

CRASH!

The tip of the silver dagger pierced the mask’s old wood with ease, as if it were being driven into a rotten branch.

BZZZZZZT!

At that very moment, the old padlock pendant hanging around Harry’s neck began to vibrate violently. A chain reaction occurred instantly when physical contact between Harry’s hand—which was holding the silver—and the dark mystical energy within the mask merged.

A bright red light burst forth from the cracks in the padlock on his chest. Like a giant firework, a flash of red light shot straight from harry’s arm, passed through the dagger, and tore into the interior of the Barong Mask.

“GAAAAAAARRRRRGGGGHHH!”

A deafening roar of pain echoed and reverberated throughout every corner of the shop.

Before Harry could hear what the creature was about to say, his consciousness collapsed completely. His vision suddenly went pitch black, and Harry's body slumped helplessly onto the wooden floor of his grandmother’s antique shop.