“The full moon had almost succeeded in being impressive before the storm clouds remembered they had a job to do.
They rolled across the sky like disgruntled bureaucrats, stamping out moonlight wherever they found it.
Lightning objected to this arrangement by repeatedly striking the enormous oak that crowned the hill.
The tree, having survived centuries of wars, winters and woodpeckers, finally conceded defeat and burned with all the dignity available to a very old tree on fire.

Beside the blazing oak stood Ghost Manor.
It had the unmistakable appearance of a house that regarded gravity as a personal insult and architecture as merely a suggestion. Leaning chimneys balanced on impossible angles, windows stared like suspicious eyes, and every stone looked as though it had spent decades listening to unfortunate conversations.

Our hero circled the manor cautiously.
The front door was much too obvious. In stories, front doors existed solely to discourage sensible people. He preferred to inspect the perimeter, where common sense occasionally had a chance of surviving.

Then he saw it.
A faint yellow light flickered behind a tiny basement window.
“Well,” he muttered, “either someone is awake… or something is pretending to be.”
He crept closer.
The light drifted toward him.
At first it resembled a firefly. A particularly confident firefly, admittedly, one that flew with the assurance of an aristocrat arriving fashionably late.
Then it grew.
The tiny glow unfolded into the shape of a beautiful young woman woven from amber fire, her hair dancing like candle flames in a draft.
She smiled.
“Hello, stranger. Tell me your name.”

Now, every child with the slightest education in folklore knew there were two questions one never answered honestly.
The first was, “May I have your true name?”
The second was, “Would you care to sign this perfectly harmless magical contract?”

Our hero bowed politely.
“My name,” he said after careful consideration, “is… Anome.”

The fiery woman laughed so loudly that sparks flew from her lips.
“Oh,” she chuckled, “that isn’t a name. That’s a decision.”
She exploded into a whirlwind of flame, becoming a magnificent burning bird.
With a triumphant cry it soared upward and vanished through a cracked window on the manor’s highest floor.

“Well,” sighed Anome, “that seems like an invitation.”
He climbed after it.

Inside, the hallway swallowed nearly every trace of light.
Only the faded black-and-white checkered floor reflected enough moonlight to suggest the house had once believed in geometry.
The corridor opened into a vast circular hall.`
Engraved upon the stone floor was a great compass rose marking the four directions.
North.
South.
East.
West.

Anome frowned.
“I’ve never trusted rooms that tell people where to go.”
Choosing North, he followed a corridor that twisted so often it seemed determined to arrive behind itself.
Eventually it ended……at a perfectly ordinary wall.

“There must be a secret door.”
The wall politely refused to disagree.
After considerable tapping, pushing and muttering, a hidden panel slid open.

Beyond lay an ancient laboratory.
Dust-covered bottles lined warped shelves.
Strange flasks bubbled despite containing nothing obvious.
Copper coils connected machines that looked capable of either producing gold or accidentally inventing thunderstorms.
After an exhaustive search, Anome found absolutely nothing useful.
Which, in abandoned laboratories, was often more alarming than finding something useful.

Leaving the room, he stepped through another doorway—
—and froze.
The compass hall.
Again.
He looked down.
Same engraved floor.
Same four exits.
“I refuse to believe I’ve become this lost already.”

He chose South.
Naturally.
The corridor should have led toward the entrance.
Instead, the walls seemed longer.
The air colder.
Somewhere ahead came a deep growl.

“Oh dear.”
The creature emerged from darkness like a nightmare assembled from spare parts.
Massive claws scraped the floor.
Eyes glowed crimson.
It charged.
The impact hurled Anome against the wall hard enough to rearrange several unpleasant memories.
After a frantic struggle involving elbows, panic and a surprising amount of shouting, he escaped by running with the determination normally reserved for tax collectors spotting unpaid debts.

The corridor twisted—
—and deposited him once more in the compass hall.

“Oh, you’ve got to be joking.”
This time he chose East.

Growling echoed ahead.
Then squeaking.
A gigantic wolf burst from the darkness.
It attacked with magnificent enthusiasm and very little planning.
After a desperate fight, Anome managed to defeat it.
The enormous wolf collapsed.
Its fur melted away.
Moments later, a dead man lay where the beast had fallen.

“A werewolf,” Anome murmured.
“Or perhaps merely someone having an exceptionally unfortunate evening.”
On the corpse gleamed a silver ring.
He pocketed it.
Silver rarely appeared accidentally in haunted houses.

The next corridor ended…
Of course.
The compass hall.

“Has this place considered adding diagonal directions?”

West.
The room beyond was vast, drowned in shadow and filled with furniture scattered without any visible purpose.
Tables leaned against wardrobes.
Chairs balanced upon cabinets.
A piano appeared to be hiding behind a sofa.

“What sort of decorator—”
The floor vanished.
He plunged into darkness.
The pit was deeper than optimism.
Eventually he landed, bruised but alive.

“There must be a way out.”

There was.
Unfortunately, it led directly…
…to the compass hall.

“There should definitely be more than four directions.”

Searching more carefully this time, he discovered a concealed door hidden beneath the northern staircase.
The passage descended into the basement.
There he found an immense library.
Dusty shelves formed a labyrinth of crumbling books. Forgotten knowledge slept beneath cobwebs thick enough to qualify as curtains.

“Treasure,” Anome whispered.
Books were treasure.
Then he found actual treasure.
Hidden inside a secret compartment rested a dagger that shone with its own clear silver light.
The instant he touched it, footsteps echoed nearby.

A pale figure emerged between the shelves.
Human.
Mostly.
Its smile displayed far too many teeth.
It lunged.
The shining dagger met the creature once.
Light burst through the library.
The bloodsucker dissolved into drifting ash.

“Well,” said Anome, examining the blade, “that certainly simplifies negotiations.”
Another door.
Another corridor.
Another—
Compass hall.

“I believe this house is beginning to repeat itself.”

He tried West again.
The same shadowy room.`
The same impossible furniture.
Except…
A mirror.
It hadn’t been there before.

His reflection smiled.
Anome did not.
The reflection stepped out of the glass.
“You look tired,” it said.
“I’ve had a difficult evening.”
The double attacked.
Steel flashed.
The shining dagger struck once.
The false Anome shattered into glittering fragments that vanished like broken moonlight.

Leaving the room, he opened another door.
Compass hall.
Again.
North.

This chamber was unlike the others.
Strange wooden wings filled the room.
Cables.
Levers.
Canvas stretched across elegant frames.
Some forgotten genius had attempted to teach humanity the ancient art of falling more artistically.
Strapped to the largest glider sat a mummified corpse.
Its eyes opened.
The ancient bindings snapped.

The mummy rose with alarming enthusiasm.
One swift stroke from the radiant dagger ended several centuries of unfinished business.
Light flooded the chamber.
Not candlelight.
Not moonlight.
The house itself seemed to sigh with relief.
Golden radiance spread through every corridor, revealing a path leading unmistakably toward the entrance.

At last.
Anome stepped outside.
Behind him Ghost Manor shuddered.
Its walls cracked.
Its towers folded inward.
The stones dissolved into drifting dust that scattered upon the wind.
Only the burning oak remained upon the hill.

Far above, the storm clouds parted.
The moon emerged once more.
Somewhere in the distance, a fiery bird circled once around the moon before disappearing into the night.
Anome adjusted the silver ring on his finger, slipped the shining dagger into his belt, and continued down the lonely road.
He had acquired exactly two treasures, defeated several varieties of monster, and learned an important truth.

Some houses are haunted.
Others are simply very, very bad at giving directions.