The darkness did not fall—it collapsed on us, heavy and suffocating, like something alive lowering itself onto our bodies. The last candlelight from the dining hall flickered out in a dying gasp, and for a heartbeat I felt weightless, as if the world itself had stopped spinning.
Then the house exhaled.
A slow, deep breath that rippled through the air and raised goosebumps across my arms.
Behind us, the shadow—tall, crooked, wrong—expanded. Its limbs unfolded like wings, stretching across the walls, reaching impossible lengths. The sound it made was not footsteps. It was dragging, something hard scraping along the wooden floor.
Jonas cried out, choking on a sob as Aiden hauled him away from the twisted thing wearing Leah's face.
"MOVE!" Aiden screamed.
We stumbled backward, nearly tripping over each other as the shadow's arms unfurled further, stretching toward us with a deliberate slowness—like it wanted us to feel every second of its approach.
Mira grabbed my wrist so tightly her nails dug into my skin.
"Damien—Damien it's behind us—RUN!"
We spun and sprinted blindly toward the side of the hall, our flashlights bouncing wildly, beams slicing the dark in trembling lines.
The doors on the left wall—
SLAM. SLAM. SLAM. SLAM.
All slammed shut in perfect unison as we approached them.
We skidded to a stop.
On the right wall—another row of doors—
SLAM. SLAM. SLAM.
Shut before we even reached them.
The house wasn't just alive.
It was aware.
It was choosing.
And it didn't want us leaving this room.
Behind us, Leah's body began to twitch violently. Bones cracked. Her spine bent until her head almost touched her back.
Mira screamed and covered her ears.
"Please, stop—please—PLEASE—"
But the house wanted us to hear. Wanted us to see.
Leah jolted once more—then froze.
Her head turned slowly, mechanically, toward our group. Her black eyes widened into hollow circles.
Then she whispered—
"Feeding time."
The shadow surged forward.
"AIDEN, NOW!" I yelled.
Aiden grabbed the closest chair and hurled it toward the tall window at the far side of the room.
The glass shattered—
But not outward.
It shattered inward, as if something outside had hit it… or as if something inside had thrown the shards at us.
"GO!" Aiden shouted.
We sprinted.
Ryan was the first to reach the broken window, stepping onto the ledge—
Then the air changed.
A cold gust—like a breath from hell—whipped through the room. Something unseen grabbed Ryan's backpack strap and yanked him violently backward.
He crashed onto the floor, sliding across the wood like a ragdoll.
I rushed to him.
"RYAN!"
But the moment I touched him—he started being pulled again.
"No—NO—DAMN IT—AIDEN—HELP ME!"
Aiden and I grabbed Ryan's arms and pulled with everything we had. Something invisible had him by the legs—dragging him toward the shadows pooling beneath the long dining table.
His shoes scraped across the floor, leaving long streaks.
Ryan screamed so hard his voice cracked.
"DON'T LET GO! PLEASE—PLEASE DON'T LET GO OF ME!"
Mira sobbed. Jonas clawed at Ryan's jacket, trying to pull too.
Then—
Something surfaced from under the table.
A hand.
A human hand.
Except the fingers were too long… too thin… too many joints.
It wrapped around Ryan's ankle.
"NOOOO!" Ryan shrieked.
The thing under the table pulled harder.
We lost balance. Ryan slipped from our grasp for a second—
Aiden roared, grabbed Ryan again, and yanked him with everything he had.
Ryan's body jerked free—and the creature's long fingers scraped the floor with a screech, inches from his heels.
We scrambled away from the table. Ryan collapsed against the wall, shaking, gasping, tears running down his face.
"I—I felt it—" he choked out. "It was cold. It was so cold—it wanted to drag me under—"
"DON'T look under the table," I warned.
Mira looked anyway.
She screamed.
Shapes moved under the table.
Hands.
Faces.
Mouths.
All shifting, as if a dozen souls were trapped beneath the wood—reaching upward.
We backed away slowly.
Then—
"Damien."
My name.
A whisper.
Right behind my ear.
I froze.
Heat drained from my body all at once.
I turned.
Nothing.
But the air… clouded. The temperature dropped.
Aiden grabbed my shoulder, pulling me back. "Don't react to the voices. That's what it wants."
But it was too late.
The room had changed again.
The long table—stretching endlessly moments ago—now began to shrink, compressing inward like a creature curling up. As it folded, the candles relit themselves with tall blue flames.
Blue—like burning ice.
Then Leah's voice came again, from everywhere at once.
"One… by… one…"
Mira shook violently. Jonas pushed his hands through his hair, trembling. Ryan was still against the wall, muttering hysterically.
Aiden stepped in front of us.
"Everyone behind me. Stay together. Damien—help me find a door. Any door."
We searched the edges of the room, desperate.
The walls pulsed.
Literally pulsed.
Soft. Slow. Heartbeat-like.
I reached out and touched the wallpaper—and it felt warm.
Alive.
Aiden pushed a painting aside. Behind it, a small, narrow door appeared—its edges oozing with dark resin.
He grabbed the knob.
"Everyone ready?"
No one was ready.
But we nodded.
Aiden pulled the door open—
And something breathed from inside.
Not an animal.
Something bigger.
Much bigger.
The room beyond was pitch black, a darkness so complete it looked solid, like a pool of ink.
Jonas hesitated. "Aiden—maybe we shouldn't—"
Then the dining hall lights flickered once… twice…
And the shadow behind us began stretching across the floor toward our feet.
Decision made.
We ran into the darkness.
Aiden last—slamming the door behind us.
The moment it shut—
CLICK.
It locked itself.
We were trapped again.
The vertical hallway
The darkness slowly thinned, revealing where we were.
Mira gasped.
Ryan cursed.
Jonas whispered, "You've gotten be kidding me…"
We were standing inside a vertical hallway, built like a tower. Steps spiraled upward endlessly, disappearing into blackness above. The walls were lined with old portraits—hundreds of them—faces twisted in agony, some smeared with scratches from something trying to claw its way out.
Aiden exhaled shakily.
"Up," he said. "We go up."
We began climbing.
Each step creaked beneath our weight. The air was thicker here, colder, filled with dust that tasted like mold and old bones.
Halfway up, something caught my eye.
One of the portraits—an old woman with hollow eyes—blinked.
I froze.
"Guys… the paintings... they're moving."
Before anyone could respond—
Every portrait in the hallway turned its head toward us.
Every.
Single.
One.
Hundreds of necks snapped in unison—portraits twisting to face the staircase.
Mira dropped to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably.
Ryan whispered, "Oh god… oh god… oh god…"
Jonas pressed his back to the wall, face pale.
Aiden clenched his jaw. "Don't stop moving. Damien—grab Mira."
I pulled Mira up, holding her tightly.
We started climbing again—faster—our breathing ragged.
Then the portraits began to whisper.
Words we couldn't understand. Some deep, some high, some layered like voices underwater.
The stairs trembled.
Halfway up, the steps began disappearing behind us—crumbling into black nothingness.
"Aiden—THE STAIRS ARE FALLING!" Jonas shouted.
We ran.
The collapse chased us upward, swallowing everything.
Portraits screamed now—long wails of pain, fear, hunger.
Mira tripped. I threw her arm over my shoulder and carried her as best I could.
Ryan stumbled. Jonas grabbed him before he fell.
We climbed until our legs burned—
—and finally reached a wooden door at the top.
Aiden shoved it open, and we spilled inside.
The stairs vanished completely, leaving only black void below us.
Aiden slammed the door shut.
We collapsed on the floor, gasping.
We were alive.
For now.
The attic of secrets
When my vision cleared, I realized we were in the attic.
Dusty beams. Cobwebs. Old trunks. A rocking chair in the corner swaying gently though there was no wind.
Mira whimpered. "No more… please… no more…"
Aiden knelt in front of her. "Just a little more, Mira. We stay together."
Then Jonas whispered, "Guys… look…"
On the opposite wall were six hooks.
Five of them held brass nameplates.
Carved into them:
AIDEN
MIRA
JONAS
RYAN
DAMIEN
The sixth hook was empty.
Aiden swallowed hard. "It carved our names…"
Ryan's voice shook. "Then… then the last hook… it's for—"
A cold whisper filled the attic.
"Leah."
The temperature plummeted.
The rocking chair stopped.
And footsteps creaked on the ceiling above us—slow, deliberate—moving directly toward the attic door.
Something knew where we were.
Something was coming.
Something the house had not finished feeding on.
Aiden stood slowly.
"Everyone," he whispered.
"Find something to use as a weapon."
Because whatever was coming…
Was not Leah anymore.
And it was hungry.