Darkness didn't just surround us.
It sealed us in.
The moment the lights died, the house shifted—wood groaning, beams flexing, something massive rearranging its bones around our fragile bodies. The air thickened, pressing against my chest until breathing felt like pulling oxygen through wet cloth.
Mira screamed my name.
I reached blindly and found her hand, cold and trembling.
"I've got you," I said, though I wasn't sure that was true.
Aiden struck his flashlight on and off. Nothing. Dead. Jonas cursed and slammed his palm against the wall.
Then—
Click.
A single bulb flickered to life at the far end of the hallway.
It hung alone, swaying gently.
Beneath it—
A door.
Old. Rusted. Metal.
A stairwell symbol carved deep into its surface.
Jonas swallowed. "Basement."
The word tasted rotten.
The house whispered approval.
The floor beneath our feet tilted subtly, nudging us forward. Not pushing—guiding. Like a hand at the small of our backs.
Mira shook her head violently. "No. We're not going down there."
The walls pulsed.
"Down," Leah's voice crooned, layered with something ancient and vast. "That's where the truth lives."
Aiden stepped forward, jaw set. "We don't have a choice."
The bulb brightened as we approached, casting shadows that didn't match our movements. My shadow lagged half a second behind me.
I tried not to look at it.
Aiden grabbed the door handle.
The metal burned cold against his skin.
He pulled.
The door opened with a scream of rusted hinges.
The smell hit us first.
Damp earth.
Mold.
And something sweeter beneath it—
Decay that had learned patience.
The stairwell descended sharply, concrete steps cracked and uneven, vanishing into a blackness thicker than any we'd seen before.
The bulb behind us flickered—
Then exploded.
Darkness swallowed the hallway.
The door slammed shut behind us.
The only light now came from below.
A dull, red glow.
Like embers buried under ash.
Jonas laughed hysterically. "Of course it's red."
We descended.
Each step echoed too loudly, the sound stretching unnaturally long, like the house was replaying it just to savor our fear. The walls narrowed as we went, pressing close enough that my shoulders brushed damp concrete.
Halfway down, Mira froze.
"Do you hear that?"
I listened.
At first—nothing.
Then—
Breathing.
Slow.
Massive.
Not coming from ahead.
From below the stairs.
From the space beneath the steps.
Aiden whispered, "Don't look."
Jonas looked.
Something moved under the stairs—skin stretched too tight over a shape that didn't fit its bones. Fingers pushed through gaps in the concrete, clawing, retreating, clawing again.
Jonas staggered back, gagging.
We rushed downward.
The stairwell opened abruptly—
And the world dropped away.
There was no basement floor.
Just an enormous, circular chamber where the ground should have been—its center opening into a vast, endless pit.
A mouth.
The walls curved inward, layered with old doors, broken furniture, children's toys, bones, clocks, mirrors—everything the house had ever taken.
Everything it had never given back.
The red glow pulsed from the pit below, illuminating something far too large to fully see.
The house's heart.
Mira sobbed openly now. "This is hell."
"No," I whispered.
"It's hunger."
A narrow walkway ringed the pit, cracked and crumbling. At the far end stood a stone altar.
On it—
Six carved symbols.
Five scratched through.
One untouched.
My symbol.
The pull in my chest returned, stronger than ever.
Aiden noticed.
"Damien… don't."
The house spoke from the pit, voice shaking the chamber.
"Every house needs a door."
The red glow surged.
Images slammed into my mind.
This place years ago.
Different faces.
Different screams.
Someone standing where I stood now—
Opening.
Feeding.
Surviving.
I dropped to my knees.
Jonas backed away. "Oh no. No, no, no. That's not happening."
Mira grabbed my shoulders. "You're not giving yourself to it."
I looked at her, tears burning my eyes. "It won't stop otherwise."
The house laughed.
"Smart boy."
The walls began to move.
Doors along the chamber opened violently, vomiting shadows onto the walkway. Hands clawed out—too many, overlapping, desperate.
Aiden shoved us back. "MOVE!"
The shadows rushed us.
Jonas was grabbed first.
Hands wrapped around his legs, dragging him screaming toward an open door marked with children's drawings.
"HELP ME!" he screamed.
Aiden lunged, grabbing Jonas's arm.
The house pulled harder.
Bones cracked.
Jonas screamed—
Then stopped.
The door slammed shut.
Silence.
Mira collapsed, sobbing.
Two left.
The pit roared.
The altar glowed brighter.
The symbol carved itself deeper.
My symbol.
Aiden turned to me, eyes fierce, broken. "There has to be another way."
The house answered for me.
"There isn't."
The walkway cracked.
Mira screamed as the concrete crumbled beneath her feet.
Aiden caught her just in time, pulling her back from the edge as pieces fell endlessly into the pit, never hitting bottom.
I stood.
The pull became unbearable.
I stepped toward the altar.
Mira screamed my name.
Aiden shook his head slowly. "If you do this… you won't come back."
"I already didn't," I said softly.
The house's voice lowered, intimate.
"Open, and they live."
I placed my hand on the altar.
The symbols burned into my skin.
Pain exploded through me—memories tearing loose, feeding the pit.
The house screamed in ecstasy.
The shadows retreated.
The doors sealed.
The pit closed slightly—satisfied.
Mira collapsed into Aiden's arms, gasping.
The red glow dimmed.
The house whispered, almost tender.
"Welcome home."
The floor solidified beneath us.
The chamber stilled.
Aiden stared at me.
"You're bleeding."
I looked down.
My hand was carved with the symbol now.
Permanent.
The house shuddered.
Not finished.
Never finished.
Above us—
Footsteps.
Slow.
Familiar.
Leah's laugh echoed down the stairwell.
"Thank you," she sang. "Now it knows you again."
The house inhaled deeply.
And somewhere inside its walls—
Another door unlocked.