Elias Thorne ran, breath ragged in his chest, heart pounding like a funeral drum.Behind him, through the tangle of wind and shadow, came his sisters—Seraphine, regal even in ruin, and Lina, barefoot and shivering. Seraphine bore Tobey, their youngest brother, across her back like a cross of living flesh, his tiny fingers clenched in her bloodstained gown.

  Above them stretched the stars, sharp and cold, glittering like shattered gss across a sky too serene for such terror. The world they once knew—a world of velvet halls and noble blood—had turned to ash beneath the boots of rebels. Their home was taken, their lineage hunted, and the name Thorne now carried only the weight of death.

  And still they ran—upward, ever upward—toward the one pce they had been taught never to go.

  It rose from the earth like a wound that refused to heal: a mansion veiled in mist, cloaked in silence, its windows blind with age. The House on Hollow Hill.Every vilge child knew its legend.Every parent warned of it in whispers.

  A witch dwelled there, they said.Not a woman, but a thing of thread and bone.She stole children. Sewed them into dolls.Sang lulbies in a voice made of broken gss.

  As a boy, Elias had often stared toward that hill with quiet dread and guilty curiosity. But he had never dared step foot near it.

  Until tonight.

  Now, the world behind them was stained with fire and screams. And ahead... stood the mansion. Cold. Waiting. Alive.

  Then—footsteps.

  Heavy. Quick. Drawing near.

  Elias spun, sword drawn in a single breath, pcing his body between the noise and his siblings. His shadow stretched long across the stone, ready to fall in blood.

  But it was not a hunter who emerged.

  It was Marin Everwind.

  Her face streaked with ash and tears, her dress torn, her arms trembling. Behind her came her brother, Reed, his expression carved from grief. And with them, limping slightly but unbroken, was Bridget Hale—the maid Elias had trusted with their escape.

  She had done as he commanded. She had returned.

  Marin colpsed into his arms, sobbing. "They burned it all," she whispered. "My mother... my father... gone."

  Elias held her, the bde still clenched in one hand. But his gaze had already turned back to the mansion.

  There would be no mourning. Not tonight.The world had abandoned them.And the mansion, cursed or not, was the only pce that had not yet rejected their lives.

  Behind them, the past burned.

  Before them, the legend waited.

  And in the hush of wind through dead trees, the house seemed to breathe.

  as they enter inside gate

  The garden was full of roses, but their beauty was lost beneath the veil of night. The petals, kissed by dew and shadow, might as well have been thorns for all the warmth they gave. Not even the stars above dared to light this pce fully—as if the heavens themselves looked away from the mansion.

  Before them stood a massive wooden door, arched and ancient, its bckened surface cracked and swollen with age. Hinges rusted. A pce that had not welcomed guests in a lifetime, perhaps longer.

  Elias paused, his breath visible in the cold. With a final gnce at his siblings, he pced his hand on the door—and pushed.

  It gave way too easily.

  The door creaked open with a groan like an old grave waking. Darkness spilled out, thick and heavy, swallowing the light behind them.

  They stepped inside.

  The interior was pitch bck, a void of silence and decay. Dust hung in the air like the remnants of forgotten dreams. The only light came from the moon, slipping faintly through the doorway they had just crossed.

  Marin's voice broke the silence. "A... a candle. Near the wall."

  She had seen it by chance, a stub of wax barely outlined in moonlight.

  Elias quickly unslung the torch strapped to his back—he had grabbed it during their escape, one of the few things he had time to save. Bridget, ever loyal though her hands trembled, took the candle and held it steady while Elias sparked the fme to life.

  The fire fred. And in that moment—they saw her.

  An old woman.Standing silently in the shadows.Watching them.

  Her skin was withered like paper left too long in the sun, pulled tight over sharp cheekbones. Hair as white as winter's frost fell in wild strands across her shoulders, and her eyes—oh, her eyes—were pale and clouded, but not blind. They stared into Elias as if she knew him. As if she had always known him.

  Elias gasped and stumbled back, falling hard to the dusty floor.Bridget reached for him at once, clinging to his arm despite the fear that seized her limbs.

  The woman moved forward, the hem of her tattered bck dress dragging across the floor like whispers. She bent slowly, creaking like the house itself, and lifted the torch Elias had dropped, holding it high.

  The fme flickered across her face.A smile followed. Crooked. Rotten. Familiar.

  Even Seraphine, proud and composed, felt her voice tremble as she stepped forward, shielding her younger siblings."Who... who are you?"

  The old woman tilted her head. Her neck cracked.

  Then, she spoke—voice dry as dust, sharp as rusted nails.

  "Who d'you think, girl...?"

  "I'm the whisper in your cradle,the name you never say after dark..."

  "I'm the witch. Girl."

  "And you... brought me children."

  Her ughter came next.Low. Uneven. A noise that crawled across the skin.

  Behind them, the wind smmed the mansion doors shut.

  The candle flickered.

  And the mansion, it seemed, exhaled.

  The flickering candlelight danced against the cold stone walls, casting long, crooked shadows. Elias's heart pounded like a war drum as he y on the floor, staring up at the figure who had appeared in the gloom.

  An old woman. Wrinkled and hunched, with hair like tangled spiderwebs and eyes like dull gss. She was looking right at them.

  Then she ughed.

  A crackling, broken ugh—like dried leaves scraping together in the wind—cut through the silence.

  "Did I scare you, child?" she wheezed, her voice like rusted hinges swinging in the wind. "Ah—hah—cough—haaahh..."

  Elias scrambled to his feet. He moved in front of the others instinctively, sword drawn, though it trembled slightly in his hand. His gaze never left the woman. "Who are you?"

  The old woman tilted her head, her neck joints popping faintly with the motion. "I am the mistress of this mansion," she croaked. "Long, long ago... I lived here with my husband. And our darling daughter."

  She wasn't looking at Elias anymore. Her clouded eyes drifted past the group, caught in memories. "But after our daughter passed, the silence here became too heavy. We left. We tried to forget."

  Seraphine stepped forward, carefully adjusting Tobey on her back. Her voice was steady, though her grip on her brother's legs trembled. "Then... why do people say a witch lives here?"

  At that, the old woman's cracked lips pulled into a jagged smile. Her ugh came louder, echoing strangely in the foyer.

  "Oh, there is a witch," she said, and her eyes seemed to glint with something deeper.

  Reed whimpered and clung tighter to Lina, who clutched her hand like a lifeline. The two girls stepped back instinctively.

  Marin leaned closer to Elias, her hand brushing his arm for grounding. Her breath caught in her throat.

  Elias narrowed his eyes. "Is that... supposed to be you?"

  The old woman ughed again, harsher this time. "Oh, no, no. When my husband died, I returned to this pce—alone. But she was already waiting for me. The witch. She caught me. Trapped me in this house. Said... I had a role to py. Said she'd keep me until my destiny arrived."

  She slowly lifted her gaze. "And tonight... you've brought it."

  Before anyone could speak, Reed broke away, dragging Lina toward the massive doors.

  "Wait!" Elias shouted. "Stop!"

  But panic had already taken hold. Just as the girls touched the edge of the threshold—

  SLAM.

  The great doors shut with a thunderous boom. Moonlight vanished. Bridget's candle was the only light left in the suffocating dark.

  "No... no, no!" Reed cried, pounding her fists against the door. Lina buried her face in Reed's shoulder, trembling.

  Seraphine flinched, holding Tobey tighter. The boy's small face peeked over her shoulder, pale and scared. "Sera... I wanna go home..."

  Marin stepped closer to Elias, barely hiding her own fear. "She's... she's lying, right? There's a way out, right?"

  The old woman let out a rattling sigh that dissolved into ughter. "No way out now, little flowers. Not unless she lets you go."

  Bridget stepped protectively beside Elias, her posture straight despite the tension in her shoulders. "We should've expected something like this..."

  Elias stepped forward—his tone calm, though his jaw was tight. He bowed before the old woman.

  "If we cannot leave," he said with quiet dignity, "then let us stay. In peace, if that's all we're granted."

  The old woman stared at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she chuckled softly. "Even if I wished to free you, boy... she would not allow it. You are her guests now. So make yourselves comfortable."

  She turned toward the group, her gaze sweeping the girls. "Now then... can any of you cook? I miss warm meals."

  "I can," Bridget said, without hesitation. Her voice was clear, her chin lifted with resolve.

  The old woman smiled again, her expression almost... pleased. "Good girl. Come."

  Bridget looked once toward Elias—no fear in her eyes, only determination—then followed the old woman into the shadows beyond the candlelight.

  The others were left in silence.

  The mansion groaned softly, as if it had drawn a breath.

  Somewhere deeper within, something... watched.

  The candlelight burned low as silence settled heavily over the foyer. Everyone stood frozen, still shaken by the old woman's words—and by the sm of the doors that had sealed them inside.

  Reed stood close to his sister Marin, his face pale, hands trembling slightly. He kept gncing nervously at every corner of the room, eyes wide like a frightened animal. Marin gently pced a reassuring hand on his arm, her calm presence steadying him.

  Lina was pressed beside them, still shaken and too scared to speak.

  Elias's voice broke the silence, low and steady, as he stepped forward. His tone was calm, almost like a lulby to frightened hearts.

  "It'll be alright," he said, looking around at them all. "We've been through worse. This mansion won't break us."

  He stepped toward Tobey and knelt slightly, pcing a warm hand on the child's head.

  "I promised you I'd protect you, didn't I?" he said gently.

  Tobey blinked back tears. "But... she said we can't leave..."

  "You've seen monsters before, Tobey," Elias said, his voice soft. "You're still here. That makes you strong. Braver than you think."

  Tobey sniffled, nodding weakly, but clung to Seraphine like she was the only thing holding him up.

  Seraphine, however, didn't look soothed. Her arms wrapped tightly around Tobey as she gred at Elias.

  "You always talk like you have it under control," she snapped. "But your promises mean nothing in a pce like this."

  Elias stood, frowning. "I'm trying to keep us from falling apart."

  "Oh, now you want to be the leader?" Seraphine's voice rose. "You weren't around when they needed you. I was the one raising Tobey. I was the one holding this family together while you pyed the noble protector with your sword and your maid."

  "That's enough, Seraphine."

  "No, it's not," she said sharply. "You're acting like you know what's best—but you don't. And while you're worrying about your people, don't forget who your real family is."

  Elias's voice dropped dangerously low. "Bridget is family."

  "She's a servant, Elias. And Marin? Reed? They're outsiders. Strangers. Not blood."

  The words struck like a whip.

  Reed's face crumpled, and he turned away, shoulders tense. Marin's eyes widened slightly, pain flickering in her gentle features.

  They had all just crawled out of a nightmare together. Suffered side by side. Escaped what no one else had. And now Seraphine was cutting those bonds like they meant nothing.

  Marin stepped forward.

  "That's enough," she said softly, but firmly.

  Seraphine turned her gre toward her.

  "You don't have to like me," Marin continued, keeping her voice even. "But don't stand there and act like you're the only one who matters. We all fought to survive. We all lost people. Reed and I... we lost everything."

  Reed lowered his head, hiding his face behind messy bangs.

  "And maybe you still hate me like you always did, Seraphine," Marin added, voice trembling now,

  A tense silence followed.

  Elias's expression darkened. "You didn't need to say any of that, Seraphine."

  He stepped forward, but Marin pced a hand on his arm, stopping him.

  "Not worth it," she said, barely above a whisper.

  Elias let out a heavy sigh. His body seemed to defte with the weight of the day. He walked over to the sealed doors and sank down, resting his back against the cold stone. After a moment, he pulled out a crumpled cigar and lit it. The faint orange glow flickered in the gloom.

  No one spoke after that.

  Tobey eventually drifted off in Seraphine's arms, still clinging to her tightly. Reed sat beside Marin, silent and ashamed. Lina crouched nearby, her eyes locked on the shadows. Elias smoked quietly, his thoughts unreadable. Seraphine stood still, eyes gssy, her fury cooled into silent exhaustion.

  They waited.

  Waited for the old woman to return.

  Waited for the next nightmare to begin.

  And from deep within the mansion, faint footsteps echoed once more—soft, slow, and growing steadily louder.

  From the corridor beyond the shadows, quiet footsteps approached.

  Everyone instinctively tensed—until the soft flicker of candlelight revealed Bridget, her calm expression barely touched by the gloom. Her footsteps were soundless, almost ghost-like, but her presence was unmistakably grounded.

  As always, she carried herself with an air of grace and unshakable composure.

  "The food is ready," she announced gently, her voice like velvet. She turned her eyes to the small boy clinging to Seraphine. "Master Tobey, there's warm bread. Just the way you like it."

  Tobey blinked, then his face lit up with childlike excitement. "Really?!"

  Bridget smiled softly and nodded.

  The others, however, remained tense. Eyes darted between each other, unsure if they could trust anything in this cursed pce—not even food.

  Bridget made her way to Elias, still seated near the sealed doors, the faint glow of his cigar outlining his weary features.

  "Master," she said quietly, bowing slightly. "The meal is served."

  Elias didn't respond at first. He stared ahead, lost in his thoughts and smoke, his eyes like dead coals. Only after a long silence did he speak.

  "I'll join you ter."

  Bridget nodded, no disappointment showing. "As you wish."

  She turned to the others and silently gestured for them to follow. Hesitantly, they began to move—Tobey the most eager, Seraphine keeping close behind with a protective hand on his back.

  Marin lingered for a second. She gnced at Elias, clearly considering staying behind—but then caught sight of Seraphine watching her.

  Tense silence passed between them.

  Marin swallowed the lump in her throat and chose to follow without a word, not wanting to light another fire between brother and sister.

  As the others disappeared into the dim hallway, Bridget remained behind. She stood quietly in front of Elias, not moving, not speaking—just standing there.

  At first, Elias barely registered her presence. To him, she had always been just the maid. Hired a year ago. Loyal. Silent. Efficient.

  She had dressed him, prepared his meals, stood behind him in every meeting. She'd seen him tired, angry, sick, and vulnerable—and never once judged him. But he'd never truly seen her.

  Now, in this pce... after everything...

  He finally did.

  "...Want a smoke?" he asked suddenly, reaching into his pocket and pulling out another cigar. His hand trembled slightly, but his voice was casual. Thoughtless, even. Offering a cigar to a dy was improper—rude, really. But Elias wasn't in the mood for manners.

  Bridget didn't flinch.

  "If it's from you, Master," she said with a small, unreadable smile, "then I'll accept."

  She took the cigar with careful hands. Elias let out a soft ugh—bitter, tired, but real.

  "You actually took it..."

  Her quiet presence had somehow disarmed him. Even now, in this cursed house where everything felt wrong, she made him ugh without trying.

  He took a slow drag of his own cigar and exhaled.

  "...I shouldn't leave them alone," he muttered. "Not now. They're scared."

  He stood, brushing ash from his coat.

  Bridget bowed slightly. "They'll feel safer with you there, Master."

  He looked down at her—really looked—and for a moment, there was a flicker of something new in his gaze. Respect. Maybe even guilt.

  "You always follow me," he said.

  "It's my duty," she replied softly. "And my choice."

  Elias nodded once, then turned toward the dark corridor, cigar still between his fingers.

  He stepped forward—into the same bckness that swallowed Bridget's candlelight moments ago. Toward the dining hall.

  Toward whatever fate awaited them all.

  And Bridget followed, silent and steady... just as she always had.

  In the dimly lit dining hall, everyone sat at the long, worn-out table.

  Tobey, his earlier tears forgotten, was cheerfully munching away. He swayed his legs happily under the chair, his small hands gripping a warm roll of bread. Bridget's cooking had always been his favorite. Even though she was Elias's personal maid, she had taken it upon herself to prepare meals for Tobey whenever he asked. Tonight was no different.

  Across from him, Seraphine sat upright, the untouched food on her pte barely disturbed. She tried to eat, but every bite felt like swallowing a stone. Her eyes were distant, constantly watching Tobey, then flickering toward Elias with guarded tension.

  Marin, quiet and pale, forced herself to eat. She hadn't wanted to come to the table, but causing another fight with Seraphine wasn't worth it. Every chew made her stomach twist. Reed, seated beside her, was trying to act calm—but the way his hand trembled on the fork betrayed his nerves. Even Lina, who rarely let go of Reed's side, had picked at the food. For the younger ones, hunger still ruled stronger than fear.

  At the end of the table sat the Old Woman, her pte nearly clean. She was savoring every bite, humming softly, as if the meal were divine. Her joy made the others more uneasy.

  "So delightful," she murmured. "Bridget, dear, you've outdone yourself."

  Bridget, standing quietly at the edge of the room, bowed her head slightly in acknowledgment. She didn't speak.

  Elias, who had finally joined them, sat close to the old woman. He didn't touch his food. His eyes, sharp even through the fatigue, noticed something... off.

  Her hand.

  The skin was twisted, like bark wrapped around bone. The fingers bent unnaturally, curling as if broken and re-healed in the wrong direction. Earlier, in the dark hallway, he had only seen her face. But here, with the warm candlelight casting long shadows, the distortion was pin.

  "...What happened to your hand?" he asked cautiously.

  The old woman paused. Her fork froze mid-air.

  Then she began to ugh.

  Not a joyful ugh. Not a grandmother's chuckle. It was a dry, rasping sound that scraped at their ears like nails on stone.

  Everyone froze. Even Tobey stopped chewing.

  The ugh echoed.

  And then—

  All the candles died.

  The fmes flickered violently before snuffing out at once, plunging the room into darkness. But this was no ordinary dark—it was unnatural. No walls, no table, no chairs could be seen.

  And yet—they could see each other.

  Every face was visible in sharp crity, lit by no source, like they were glowing faintly in a world that had swallowed everything else.

  Except the Old Woman.

  She was gone.

  Her seat was empty.

  Her ugh still echoed, distant now, as though it were coming from everywhere and nowhere.

  Tobey whimpered, starting to cry again. Reed grabbed Marin's arm tightly, shaking, barely able to stand. Lina clung to Seraphine, who forced herself to remain upright even as fear cwed through her chest.

  Then came the voice.

  Silky. Cold. Ancient.

  "Shall we begin the game?"

  The voice of the Witch.

  Another shrill ugh. Elias tried to shout—but his voice made no sound. His mouth moved, his throat strained, but the darkness itself swallowed his words.

  "I lied to you," the witch whispered. "I am the witch."

  The silence afterward felt heavier than any sound.

  "Two among you... are not real," she continued. "They are here to kill you."

  Gasps echoed.

  "Find the fake ones... and wish for your escape. Or wish for whatever your heart desires."

  A pause.

  "Fail... and die by their hands."

  She cackled again, long and high and cruel.

  Then—

  Light returned.

  Dim candlelight slowly flickered back to life around them, revealing the dining hall once more. Everything looked the same.

  But nothing felt the same.

  The Witch was gone. Her chair sat empty. Her pte, now filled with rotten meat, slowly oozing bck blood.

  Everyone stared at each other.

  The game had begun.

  And two among them were no longer who they cimed to be.