The city had not changed. And that was the problem.

  Lea, Sandra, and Gemini stood at the edge of the street, their old house in front of them, untouched by time. The paint had not chipped, and the shutters had not sagged. The rusted horseshoe nailed over the door remained at the same angle it had been the night they were taken.

  It was as if time had stood still. Sandra shivered. "It looks the same," Lea said nothing.

  She had expected something else - overgrown weeds, broken windows, some proof that the world had gone on without them. But here it was. Waiting.

  Gemini exhaled slowly and took a step forward. "It's been weeks, hasn't it?"

  Sandra nodded. "Months." Gemini tilted her head, thinking. Then she smiled. "That's funny." Sandra turned to her. "What is?" Gemini's fingers skimmed the wooden fence, her touch too light, too careful. "It doesn't feel like months." Lea's stomach twisted. She'd been thinking the same thing.

  The door to her house was ajar. A crack in the world. An invitation. Sandra took a step back. "I don't want to go in." Gemini smiled. "That's the thing, little bird." She turned toward the house, her voice soft, sure. "It's been waiting for us." Lea felt it then. The house had not left.

  It had only been holding its breath. And now it was finally breathing out.

  The wind had died. The sky above them was not as it should be. The blood moon hung low, an unblinking eye, shrouding the city in a thick, oppressive red haze that made the air feel warmer and heavier as if the atmosphere itself had turned to liquid, pressing against their skin, seeping into their lungs with every breath. The buildings stood in eerie silence, their darkened windows full of unseen observers, shapes shifting behind the distorted glass, present but unwilling to emerge. Behind them, a figure appeared out of nowhere.

  Sheriff Ambrose glared at Gemini. His breath came unevenly, too shallow, his ribs barely moving under the worn fabric of his coat, which now hung loosely over a frame that had once held more weight, more strength, but had since withered under the weight of time and fear. Lea recognized the type of man he had become. The type who had lost the battle long before today, long before this moment, yet still found himself standing, issuing a warning he knew would be ignored. His voice was barely more than a whisper, harsh and resigned. "This house remembers."

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  Gemini tilted her head, just enough to catch the faint light in her dark eyes, making them glow with something unreadable, something ancient. Her lips parted and she took a slow, deliberate breath before offering a small, knowing smile. Not cruel. Not mocking. Not worse. It was a smile of agreement, of acceptance. "Good," she whispered.

  Sandra winced, "Where is everybody?"

  Lea felt the slight jolt beside her, the way Sandra's small fingers tightened in the fabric of her coat, an unconscious reaction to the shift in the air, to something primal whispering at the back of her mind telling her to run. But Gemini didn't look at her. She kept her eyes on Ambrose. And Lea saw the moment it happened - the moment the realization hit the Sheriff, the second he understood that whatever he had come to say, whatever warning he thought would matter, had already come too late.

  Ambrose stepped back: "They're gone."

  Not much. Just a single, measured step, just enough to shift his weight away from them. Then he turned. His cloak snapped behind him as he walked away, the heels of his worn boots scraping roughly on the uneven stone path. Not hurrying. Not running. Just walking. Because there was nothing left to do. Nothing left to stop.

  Lea clenched her jaw. Everything was wrong. The city. The sky. The silence that surrounded her like a thick, suffocating veil. And Gemini was just standing there, still smiling, watching the sheriff disappear into the mist as if she had been expecting it all along.

  Lea moved before she thought better of it. Her hand shot out, fingers curling around Gemini's wrist, grip tight, unyielding. It was the first time she had touched her since the basement. Gemini didn't pull away. She just turned her head, her expression curious, her eyebrows raised slightly in amusement.

  Lea leaned forward, her voice deep, sharp as a blade. "That's enough."

  Gemini blinked, and then the smile broadened. "Not even close."

  Her voice was light, almost playful, but the weight of it pressed into the air between them, thick and heavy, twisting something deep in Lea's gut. Lea should have been in control. She had spent years perfecting that control. But Gemini slipped through the cracks, widening them, making space where there should have been none.

  Sandra swallowed hard, her voice small. "Can we go in now?"

  Lea hesitated.

  The house loomed behind them, its front door still slightly ajar, waiting. The darkened windows looked back, unblinking, expectant. The wooden steps groaned under the weight of time, and the bones of the house exhaled as if relieved, as if it had held its breath all these years, waiting for them to return. Lea exhaled. Slowly. Measured. Then she let go of Gemini's wrist.

  Sandra was the first to move, quickly, her small frame scampering up the stairs as if afraid that hesitation would leave her rooted to the spot. Gemini followed at an easy pace, not rushing, not hesitating - just moving as if she belonged there. As if she had never left.

  Lea was last.

  And the moment she crossed the threshold and stepped into the darkness, it was like stepping into something older, something deeper than time itself.

  The heavy oak door swung shut behind her, sealing her inside.