Elara's Point of View
I was squeezing the candle harder than I thought, and the small light shook in my hands. The hallway went on for longer than I remembered, and the shadows seemed to move a little when I breathed.
"Why are we even going down here?" I said softly.
I could barely hear Silas's footsteps behind me, as if he didn't want to be heard. "Because you asked," he said quietly.
I came to a stop. "I didn't want to be scared to death."
"You wanted to know about the other rooms." About the house. I could tell he was tense, even though his voice was calm.
I took a deep breath and kept going. The air here smelled colder. More mature. It was heavy with something I couldn't name.
Then we saw it.
The door.
Old. Made of wood. Locked.
I tried to grab the handle, but it wouldn't move. I said, "Locked."
Silas moved closer. "Some things are locked for a reason."
"Or maybe the house is just keeping secrets," I said softly.
He looked at me with a sharp look. "Elara..."
But I was already listening with my ear to the door. My heart was beating too fast. Too loud.
"Do you hear that?" I asked.
He said, "It's just the house settling." But his voice was quieter. Anxious.
I pulled on the door handle again. Nothing.
"I can hear scratching," I said.
Silas stopped moving. "Scratching?"
I nodded. "Like... nails. Against the wood.
He got in front of me. "Elara, this isn't a good idea."
"I can't help it," I said softly. "There's something inside."
He thought about it. Then he said quietly, "Okay... be careful."
The candlelight flickered, and for a second, the shadows made the door look like it was moving.
I got closer. Then I saw it. The light bounced off the edges of something that had been carved into the wood and through the cracks.
Names.
A lot of them.
You can see the scratches on the walls behind the door through the gaps. Some of them were old and faded almost completely. Some were new, as if the wood had just been carved.
I couldn't breathe.
"Why do so many people have names?" I said it in a low voice.
Silas's hand went to the door, but then it stopped. "These... These are the people the house took."
"The house?" I asked, my voice shaking. "It... it kills people?"
He said, "Not always." "Sometimes it just makes them different. It can trap them sometimes.
I put my hand on the cold wood. "And their names... Why are they here?"
He swallowed. "Because the house wants you to remember." To let you know.
I shook. "About what?"
Silas looked down at me. His eyes were black. "About love." About... attachment. Wanting something you can't have."
I ran my fingers over the names through the cracks. Some were known to me. I could almost hear them say my name. Or was it the wind?
Silas lightly grabbed my arm. "Don't touch them."
"I can't help it," I said quietly. "It's like they're calling me."
"Then don't stay too long," he said in a low voice. "We have to go."
I looked back at him. "And what if I want to stay?"
He shook his head. "Then you put everything on the line."
I turned around and looked at the wall. Every name had a story. A life. A warning. I even thought for a second that my name might end up here too.
The air got colder. The candle flickered and then went out.
I felt a hand on my shoulder in the dark.
"Silas?" I said it softly.
But he wasn't there.
A low, almost human whisper went through the room.
"Elara..."
I turned around, and the candlelight came back on.
Silas was back, but he looked sick. His eyes were big.
"They're watching," he said in a low voice.
I moved closer to him. "Who?"
He said, "The house." "And everyone it took."
The walls made noise. The door shook.
My heart raced and my chest felt tight. The names and the room made it feel alive.
I wanted to yell.
But I didn't.
I wanted to run.
But my feet wouldn't move.
Again, Silas whispered, "Elara..." Don't touch the names directly, no matter what.
I nodded, but I couldn't stop staring.
And then, from behind the door, a single name slowly lit up.
My name.
I became still.
Silas took my hand. "We have to go. Now.
But I couldn't get up. I couldn't even take a breath.
Because the house had already decided to talk to me.
And I didn't know if it was a threat or a promise.
Again, the door shook.
And then I heard it: soft, slow, and on purpose.
A heartbeat.
Not mine.
Not Silas's.
Something else.
Something that is alive.
And it was coming for us.