Ruin, has come to our family

Question

You receive a letter, delivered on fine parchment sealed with a wax seal

You remember our venerable house, opulent and imperial, gazing proudly from its stoic perch above are moor. I lived all my years in that ancient rumour shadowed manor, fattened by
untold decadence,too much luxury , and yet I began to tire of... conventional extravagance. Singular unsettling tales late suggested the mansion itself was a gateway to some fabulous and unnameable power. With relic, all sycophantic rituals, I bent every effort towards the excavation, recovery of those secrets which is exhausting all what remained of our family fortune on swarthy workmen and sturdy shovels. At last lost, damp the is salt soaked crags beneath the lowest foundations, we unearthed that damnable portal of never antediluvian evil. Our every step unsettled ancient earth, but we were in a return realm of death and madness. In the end, I alone fled, laughing and wailing through those blackened arcades suffocating death antiquity. Until consciousness failed me. I beg, return home, your birth right awaits and deliver our family from these ravenous clutching shadows.

You find a seperate small piece of paper with writing hastly scribbled onto it.

Truth lies in the count upon the steps

You do not return home. What was the secret message you received?

Answer 1

If we

count up the number of words as we read down the lines (step down the lines) we see,

You remember our venerable house, opulent and imperial, gazing proudly from its stoic perch above are moor. I lived all my years in that ancient rumour shadowed manor, fattened by
untold decadence, too much luxury, and yet I began to tire of... conventional extravagance. Singular unsettling tales late suggested the mansion itself was a gateway to some fabulous and unnameable power. With relic, all sycophantic rituals, I bent every effort towards the excavation, recovery of those secrets which is exhausting all what remained of our family fortune on... workmen and sturdy shovels. At last lost, damp the is salt soaked crags beneath the lowest foundations, we unearthed that damnable portal of never antediluvian evil. Our every step unsettled ancient earth, but we were in a return realm of death and madness. In the end, I.... fled, laughing and wailing through those blackened arcades suffocating death antiquity. Until consciousness failed me. I beg, return home, your birth right awaits and deliver our family from these ravenous clutching shadows.

This reads

You are too late all is lost never return death awaits

*Note that this pattern will not be perfectly visible on mobile devices.