That evening, Clara explored the corridors alone.
Shadows moved on their own. Doors opened into empty rooms that shouldn't exist. Portraits whispered secrets of students long gone.
Ethan followed reluctantly, carrying a lantern.
A soft, chilling giggle echoed from the staircase.
Clara paused, sensing a presence behind her. Something brushed her shoulder. Cold. Alive. Not human.
The hall stretched unnaturally.
Every step forward felt longer. The whispers grew louder:
"Clara… Clara… why do you resist?"
Her rosary glowed faintly. The shadows recoiled, hissing like snakes.
Yet the academy itself seemed alive, pulsing, breathing, learning their fears, waiting for the moment their terror could be exploited fully.