@Chiro:  The bolt had rolled from the floor before you, but from the direction of the wall, before the window.  There was nothing there.  Even as your spiritual beacon calms, your more mundane sense of hearing tunes to the low moan from upstairs - the attic - the professor.  It isn't just any moan, but that moan you get when you realize something horrible you could only imagine, something you could only see in a nightmare, something that could only end with you waking up to staring at the ceiling and pitch black, unable to move your body as you just begin to realize it was all a dream...<br/>...but he's not waking up, nor are you.<br/><br/>Downstairs, Baron would acquire an odd scent himself... musty, yes, but sweet.  His feet would creak, and stumble over something smooth and solid and cold - a hinge.  Two.  Just at the edge of the stairs on the side, it looked to be a crawlspace, and from it seeped a scent sweet and familiar - one of those smells that tells you nothing but "I've smelt that before, and I can't put my finger on it!"