The moment the trial was announced, the air grew colder.
Daniel's breath fogged in front of his face. He could see the others shivering, eyes darting around the dim hall.The hourglass at the center ticked relentlessly, black sand slipping grain by grain.
Then they heard it.
The soft, deliberate tap-tap-tap of something walking.
From the shadows at the edges of the grand hall emerged the mannequins.
At first, they seemed normal — stiff, store-window mannequins with blank faces and missing limbs.
Then they moved.
Jerky, broken movements, heads snapping to angles no human could mimic.Their arms bent backward, clawing the air as they staggered forward on shattered legs.
And worse — with every step, their faces changed.One blink, and the blank faces had their faces — Daniel's own frozen in a mocking grin; Ethan's twisted in silent screams; Maya's lips sewn shut with invisible thread.
Zoe screamed — the sharp, panicked sound echoing like shattering glass.
"RUN!" Ethan roared.
They did.
Scattering in different directions, crashing through side doors, hallways, anything to get away from the things closing in.
Daniel yanked Lena after him, sprinting toward a narrow hallway lined with doors.
Behind them, the tap-tap-tap grew louder, faster.
A door slammed open in front of them — Chris waving frantically."In here! Come on!"
They barreled inside — a dusty parlor filled with overturned furniture and broken lamps. Daniel slammed the door shut just as a mannequin's hand clawed at the air behind them.
For a second, they just stood there, gasping, wide-eyed.
"What the hell are those things?!" Lena cried.
"They're not real," Chris said. He paced, hands shaking. "They can't be. They're just... illusions or something."
"Illusions don't bleed," Daniel muttered, showing them his hand — a thin red scratch where a mannequin's jagged fingers had grazed him.
Ethan pulled a heavy cabinet in front of the door."For now, we hide. We wait it out. The hourglass — the sand — it's gotta run out eventually, right?"
Right?
Minutes passed.
Each second stretched long and thin, the creak of the house settling making them all jump.
Somewhere close, they could hear them — mannequins dragging their broken feet, knocking over furniture, humming a broken lullaby.
Time crawled.
The sand slipped.
And then — a crash.
The cabinet shuddered violently.
"Shit," Ethan breathed. "They're here."
The door bulged inward as heavy fists pounded against it.
Daniel grabbed a broken chair leg, holding it like a weapon.Lena clutched a shard of mirror, hands shaking.
Chris...
Chris panicked.
He bolted for the back door without a word.
"Chris, NO!" Daniel shouted.
Too late.
Chris yanked open the door — and ran straight into one of them.
The mannequin waiting for him wasn't broken like the others.It stood tall, whole, wearing a black suit and a porcelain mask carved into a mocking smile.
It grabbed Chris with impossible strength.
He screamed — a high, choked noise — thrashing and kicking, but it dragged him in like he weighed nothing.
"No! LET ME GO!"
Daniel rushed forward, but Ethan caught him, dragging him back. "Daniel, NO! You can't help him!"
They watched — helpless — as the mannequin pinned Chris to the ground.Its fingers stretched and shifted, becoming sharp, curling inside Chris's mouth and pulling.
Chris's scream cut off into a wet, horrible sound as the mannequin wrenched his jaw open — far beyond what was natural — and ripped.
Blood sprayed across the walls.Something vital hit the ground with a wet thump.
Chris's body twitched once.Then he went still.
The mannequin stood over him for a moment, its mouth twisted into a grotesque imitation of a smile.
Then it turned its head — sharply — and looked at them.
Daniel stumbled back, his mind reeling, bile rising in his throat.
Chris was dead.Dead like a puppet with its strings cut.Not a trick.Not an illusion.
Real.
Forever.
Lena was sobbing quietly, her hands over her mouth.
Ethan looked hollow, his face pale, his hands shaking even as he pulled Daniel and Lena back into the shadows.
The voice from the hidden speakers crackled again:
"One player eliminated.Eight remain."
The hourglass still dripped black sand.
The hunt was not over.
They ran again.
Blind. Broken.
Running from the mannequins.Running from the truth.Running from the guilt that would eat them alive long after they escaped — if they escaped.
Chris's laughter still echoed faintly in Daniel's ears.
And deep inside the house, the walls seemed to pulse, almost... pleased.