By morning, the mansion was shifting.Doors led to rooms that hadn't existed yesterday. Windows opened into corridors. He left a mug on the table, and when he turned back, it was gone.
When he finally reached the foyer, the front door wouldn't move. He pulled with all his strength, but it felt like the wood itself was clinging to the frame.
The air around him pulsed — in and out — like the house itself was breathing.
He stumbled back, gasping. Every inhale of the mansion made the wallpaper twitch and the lights flicker.He realized the echo he'd been hearing all along wasn't an echo at all.
It was the house imitating him.
He ran upstairs, the floorboards groaning under his weight — except the sound didn't stop when he did. Another set of footsteps followed.Slower. Heavier.