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Chapter 3 - The Mansion Awakens

The cold night air whispered through the towering pines as the moonlight revealed the outline of the mansion — a massive structure buried in time, half devoured by nature. Aryan hesitated at the gate, the metal creaking open as if the place itself had been waiting for him.

Every step on the gravel echoed like a heartbeat. The front door stood slightly ajar, swaying in the wind, releasing faint echoes of a piano playing somewhere deep inside. Yet, no light glowed within.

He entered.

The floorboards groaned under his feet. Dust floated in the dim beam of his flashlight, revealing portraits of unknown faces — their eyes painted so vividly they almost seemed alive. One portrait — a man with a scar across his cheek — looked disturbingly like him.

A sudden gust slammed the door shut behind him. The echo carried through the vast halls like a scream.

Aryan's pulse quickened. He whispered to himself, "It's just an old house… nothing more."

But then — a sound.

A soft dragging noise upstairs.

And faint footsteps.

The chandelier above flickered once, twice — and then every candle in the room lit by itself.

The mansion was awake.

Aryan looked around, realizing that the house wasn't just abandoned — it was alive. Breathing. Watching.

He walked toward the grand staircase. The air grew heavier, colder. A whisper called his name — "Aryan…" — soft, trembling, almost pleading.

He froze.

No one had spoken his name since he arrived in this forgotten town.

The piano started again. This time, he could hear the melody clearly — a song from his childhood.

Something deep inside him stirred — a memory, faint and fractured. A door he had closed long ago was opening again.

He climbed the stairs, step by step, the melody guiding him like a thread through the dark.

At the top of the staircase, he saw it — a long hallway lined with locked doors. Only one stood open, a faint blue light seeping out.

Aryan approached slowly. His reflection in a cracked mirror beside the door smiled — but he didn't.

And then the whisper returned, this time louder —

"Welcome home… Aryan."

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