<div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Danae's Perception</div><div class="spoiler_body">In the moments between the juddering pipes and the guest room door opening, the faint orange glimmer of the parlor's light was blocked by a shadow in the door frame- Danae had been at a unique angle to see it. The shadow never reached the floor, and when it retreat, it went straight up, as though something hanging from the ceiling had opened the door.</div></div><br/><br/>Though the looming baroque shapes of tall cabinets and empty chairs played tricks on the mind in the parlor's flickering light, there was not another living soul in the common room. The maniacs were elsewhere and, one trusted, limited in their roam of the manor on a dark and foggy night. Not a single orderly remained behind, to attend- no doubt Doctor Heinfroth trusted her guests to see to their own needs.<br/><br/>Once the humming of the pipes in the walls subsided, there were further noises. Upstairs, someone was awake and moving, perhaps having drawn a bath at this unholy hour, although the firm tap of boot heel on wood suggested otherwise.<br/><br/>But, when one listened with every fiber, when the whole manor was quiet and the storm outside lulled, a banging could be heard in the cellar. It was like the banging in the<em>Mercy's </em>secret hold, like the banging that stirred the late Cat Grosbelhomme from sleep that fateful night aboard the<em>Charlotte. </em>A claustrophobic, panicked sound, possessed of a madness the unshackled dare not contemplate. There was a woman's voice, a mournful wail, though the words were hopelessly muffled.