The first pale streaks of dawn tried to break through the dusty windows,
but the fog still curled thickly through the forest.
Emma sat in the living room, clutching the spiral pendant.
Jessica dozed beside her, while Nóra silently flipped through the yellowed book she'd found earlier.
The house was quiet now.
Too quiet.
Emma didn't trust that silence.
She rose and began to explore the rest of the house.
The pendant occasionally twitched in her pocket—like it was trying to signal something.
Toward the back of the house, she found a small room.
Dust blanketed the walls, and the furniture was covered with sheets.
In the corner stood an old writing desk.
Emma stepped closer.
The drawers were locked, but one was cracked and opened easily.
Inside, she found a stack of worn papers.
And a map.
It was hand-drawn.
Not only of the forest—but of the house itself.
And beneath the house… hidden tunnels and unknown rooms.
But something was off.
In the center of the map was a spiral.
And from that point, the paths spread outward in a spiral pattern—like everything led back to the same place.
The spiral's core.
Emma traced one of the paths with her finger.
The paper was cold. Then, suddenly, it began to heat beneath her touch.
Jessica appeared in the doorway.
"Did you find something?"
Emma held up the map.
Jessica stepped closer, frowning.
"It's like… like the house is shifting."
Emma nodded.
"We don't just need to escape… We need to find the center."
Jessica paled.
"What if the center isn't an exit… but a trap?"
Emma clenched the map in her fist.
"Then we find out anyway."
From deep within the house, a new sound echoed.
Something was knocking in the attic.
But this time, it wasn't pleading.
It wasn't violent.
It was rhythmic.
Like a message.
Emma shivered.
And she knew—
The house was trying to speak to them.
But whether it was help or another trap—she couldn't yet tell.
She held the map tightly as Jessica and Nóra hovered behind her.
The knocking came again: three short taps, then a longer one.
Like a code.
Emma took a deep breath.
"We have to go up," she said quietly.
Jessica flinched.
"Do we really have to?"
Emma nodded.
"Whoever—or whatever—it is… it knows we're here. We can't stay blind."
They climbed the rickety attic stairs with care.
The wood groaned beneath their weight.
Emma stopped at the door.
The knocking had stopped.
Only her heartbeat echoed in her ears.
She reached out.
The door was cold.
She pressed the handle.
It gave with a soft groan.
The attic was dark—only a single faint beam of light filtered through a cracked skylight.
The air was thick with dust and mold.
Emma stepped inside slowly.
The attic was full of covered furniture, boxes, and shredded cloth.
The map pulsed in her pocket.
The spiral pendant burned against her chest.
Something was here.
Something old.
Something waiting.
In the beam of light, Emma saw it.
Another doll.
But not like the one in the forest.
This one was smaller. Fragile.
And stitched crudely into its arm—
A name:
"Emma"
Jessica screamed.
Nóra backed away.
Emma stared at the doll, frozen.
Someone—or something—had been preparing for them long before they ever arrived.
Suddenly, whispers rose from the corners of the attic.
Not one voice.
Many.
All at once.
As if the walls, the beams, the air itself whispered.
The words were unclear—but the intent was not:
Stay.
Give up.
Let go.
Emma shut her eyes and fought it with every part of her.
She opened them again, clutching the spiral pendant tightly.
"We won't get lost," she whispered. "Not here. Not like this."
They backed toward the stairs.
The doll remained under the beam of light.
And just as they reached the attic door,
Emma saw it from the corner of her eye.
The doll moved.
But she didn't look back.
She couldn't.