Adam woke, the first thing he noticed was the light—too bright, pressing against his eyelids even before he opened them. When he finally blinked awake, the world came into view slowly, like surfacing from deep water. The first thing he noticed was the air. The air smelled old, like dust and leather-bound books. Stretching, he found himself on the floor, his hands pressed against the polished wooden floor, cool to the touch. The room he awoken in was massive, its walls lined with towering bookshelves, dozens of them floor to ceiling, and filled with thick, heavy tomes. Books and object decorated the room. Some titles he couldn’t seem to read the text, some words swirling and curling in foreign and strange script, while others felt familiar, as if he resonated with them. his vision clearing, he watched the shelves, drinking in their books on histories, philosophies, in a Stretch of wall a small collection of constellations hung seeming to be hand drawn with different colored ink.

  Standing up to his full height and steeping forward he scanned the walls across from him, first in sight. Papers scattered across a large wooden desk were open books and diagrams lay, some depicting planetary movements, others filled with meticulous sketches of intricate symbols folding in upon themselves. Adam zoned in on a large glass orb with variations of animals printed on it. a dog, bat, hyena, chameleon, and spider carefully inscribed on it. While next to that lay some smaller cracked orbs, nestled among the pages of open books. A brass instrument, shaped like an astrolabe, a flat disk object with rotating components, and celestial coordinates, gleamed in the light that filtered in through the frosted windows above. The desk chair stood slightly askew, as if someone had just left in a hurry. And yet, dust covered everything, untouched and undisturbed for what looked like years maybe decades.

  Adam held his breath for a moment, not out of fear, but curiosity. This unfamiliar setting, all the strange objects scattered across the room, the faint scent of spilled ink and fresh parchment—all of it filled him with a sense of cautious intrigue. Maybe a scholar worked here. Maybe a researcher. Something about this place felt frozen, a stopped heartbeat, like a moment captured just before something important happened. Anticipation hung pregnant over the room.

  Then, it happened. A small movement beside him—His little brother James stirred. A feeling of relief flickered through Adam, brief yet warm. His brother was here, safe. He turned his head, taking in the sight of the near five-year-old curled into his side, dark curls messy from sleep, his small hands clutching the fabric of his sleepwear with small pandas on them. Taking the steps back over to him, Adam woke James his little brother fighting for more sleep. With a shake as a whisper James’s wide, uncertain eyes opened, searching the room and focusing on adam looking for understanding. “Why was I sleeping, and why did you wake me” his brother’s eyes seemed to flutter around the room. An powerful sense of protectiveness flooded Adam as he gazed down to his brother, a desire to keep him safe. It was an unspoken rule the bond they held—he had to protect him. No matter what. At this time he felt sure that sleeping in a strange house on hard wood, he wasn't off to a good start.

  Getting up James surveyed the room with mixed feelings apparent on his face. A blend of fascination and accusation. the room was a wonder and very interesting but Adam was sure the boy was upset for the abrupt waking he got. Pulling James into an embrace, felt natural and assuring to Adam that all was fine again. The older boy could feel his little brother pressing against him, seeking comfort as much as offering it. His fingers gripping tightly to the fabric of Adams sleeve, his body small and warm against his side. The older boy wrapped an arm around him, gripping his shoulder, grounding them both in something real. for just a moment there was peace.

  James shifted slightly, as if he was ready to part. His gaze drifting around the room now with wide-eyed curiosity, same as Adam had. both brothers surveyed the room in quiet. "The windows are weird," he murmured, his voice quiet and steady. "They’re all frosted over. it looks Like snow."

  The older boy swallowed, glanced around the room and started focusing on something else out of place. "The doorways don’t have any doors in them" Adam stated, his voice just as hushed. The thought rushed to Adam in that moment. "Like the house didn’t want to keep anything out. Or in." Or “whom’s ever room this was, they were in serious trouble.” Adam knew a boy, in the second grade that got in such trouble at school, his parents removed his door, as punishment. Maybe the owner of this room also had strict parents, that did strange things too.

  They both fell silent again, listening, lost in thought trying to understand where they were and why they had both awoke here.

  Then, as his eyes continued to focus to his surroundings, he noticed them.

  High above, crawling along the ceiling like grotesque veins, were tendrils. They twisted over the beams and coiled around the columns of the room like dark petrified roots, their form almost blending into the architecture if not for their absence of color they may have disappeared entirely. They seemed not just black, but like the night sky was cut out and folded around them. Most of them were out of reach, weaving their way across the ceiling in a tangled network, as though the house itself was wrapped in them. But the lowest ones Adam noticed—those seemed in arm length. if he went on his tip toes, he bet he could just barely reach them. The lowest one though—looked different, more alive, beckoning.

  Adam felt a pull to them, something was guiding him, to grasp hold the vines. Embrace them as he embraced his brother. They seemed an oddity that needed understanding.

  His brother, still holding onto him, tugged lightly on his sleeve. "Why do they look like that?" he whispered, wide eyes locked on the twisting forms above them.

  The older boy swallowed, unable to answer. He didn’t know. shrugging his shoulders he stated as much, "I am not sure, but they do look cool" eyes drawn to an interluding knot-ball of them, But the longer he looked, the more certain he became—he needed to touch them.

  Disengaging from his brother he took a step towards the tendrils, still and eerily expectant, as though posed in wait. They looked solid—rough, like aged wood—but something about them made his stomach tighten. The lowest tendrils hung just barely within his reach at his full height, swaying ever so slightly, as though responding to the air. Adam took a step closer towards the wall, hesitant a moment before stretching his extended fingers towards one of the closest hanging roots.

  The moment he made contact, it reacted. The texture was unexpected—soft, like rotten fruit—and there was something beneath its surface, something that shifted. The tendril twitched, then coiled in a slow, deliberate movement that sent a shudder through Adam’s spine. It curled around his touch, tightening around his fingers as if testing his presence. It was not just a plants roots, it was aware.

  He gasped and yanked his hand away, stumbling back. a small pulse shot through the house. Followed by a popping sound, then a wave of dust dropped to the floor as the tendril relaxed, slithering back into its previous position, but he could feel something lingering—a faint tingle on his fingertips, like the ghost of an unseen wisp still danced on his fingertips.

  His brothers, eyes wide, gripped his hand this time. "What was that?" he whispered, voice trembling. "Did it hurt you?"

  A chill ran down his spine as he stared. The house, which had moments ago felt strange yet passive, suddenly felt unfriendly. Not just eerie, but watchful. The weight of silence pressed in around him. The dust, the books, the old leather—it no longer smelled comforting. It smelled abandoned. Forgotten. 'Where was the houses owner, why had they not returned, why did they leave all their stuff?'

  As if the world started moving again, a breath released from the house.

  They've entered into something’s home. A pressure enveloped him. He could feel eyes watching him, staring at him, seeping into him. Then- the pressure was gone and the room felt normal again. Mundane.

  unnerved Adam examined the room. The house had been grand once. He could tell it was cared for. Even now, in the wavering orange glow that passed through the clouded windows, its beauty clung to the silence like a forgotten memory. White marble stretched from floor to ceiling, pillars adorned with gold trim, doorways tall and imposing—yet empty. No doors. No way to close anything off. To hide. it all felt very strange to Adam.

  As he surveyed the room, he started to notice other oddities. The light—deep and orange, like the glow of a distant fire—had started shifting. Not flickering, not dimming, but moving. It crawled along the walls, stretching and shrinking, as if something outside was circling the house with the light focused in.

  His little brother noticed it too. "The light its moving!" he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. "Is it going to leave us?"

  The older boy frowned. "It’s not just the light," he murmured. He turned his head, glancing at the corners of the room. Shadows deepened, creeping forward as the glow thinned. It wasn’t getting darker all at once—it was spreading. The longer he watched, the more certain he became; whatever was outside, whatever was casting this light, was moving.

  That realization made his stomach twist, he wasn't sure, but he had a bad feeling about the receding light. He didn’t like it. Neither had his brother, who was tightening his grip on Adam’s sleeve. The light, once still and eerie, was suddenly something else.

  Unwelcoming. moving.

  Like it was waiting for someone to observe it, before it could react, and now that it had its audience. it moved shifting through the motions.

  Creaking and groaning the house flexed for a heartbeat. "What was that!" squeaked James.

  Adam couldn’t answer. His breath coming faster now, unease settling deeper in his chest. The house had already felt wrong, but now—it felt evil. Malevolent and cold.

  He hadn’t screamed, but he had jerked away, his breath catching as the tendril he touched now fully settled once more. He stared at it, waiting, half-expecting it to stretch for him like a snake—but it didn’t. It stayed still, as if pretending to be nothing more than twisted wood. But he knew better. He could still feel the lingering of its touch, and that strange, alien movement that sent shivers crawling up his arms.

  He didn’t want to touch them again. planned to avoid it in the future.

  Adam resolved to make sure his brother, who had taken a step closer, wouldn't be touching them either. tightening his grip on Adam’s fingers, trying to keep his distance from the wiring shapes overhead. The younger boy’s breath was quick and unsteady, his fingers twisting into his older brothers as though anchoring himself. Adam swallowed hard. Forcing himself to look away from whatever those things were. They weren’t safe. Then again, nothing about this place felt safe anymore. besides James, his loving younger brother.

  Unsure of how to find it, they searched for an exit. Wanting to leave and not return.

  And yet, they found themselves wandering further into the house, and the light was beginning to dim even more. The long shadows stretched further, swallowing the edges of the room in creeping darkness. It felt slow as time distorted as if the glow was being dragged away rather than simply shifting. The flickering light left uneven patches of illumination, casting strange silhouettes along the walls. The deeper they moved into the house, the harder it became to tell where the darkness ended, and the tendrils began.

  The children watched for any new things, and there were plenty of things that stood out to them. Rooms to either side of the hallway they were walking down. tall imposing archways, hiding rooms of various size and curious withholdings. one room held a single painting on the opposing wall. room bare. the image on it was a simple pale fish, alabaster scales shone as its tail was in full motion, cressing above the blood sick water it wade in.

  they passed by a bedroom, and 2 other office styled rooms until they came across something very interesting.

  Peeking in the next room, left them both speechless. it was large and full of clutter. a large sarcophagus leaded against one wall, with mannequins and sets of amours littering about, a large basin empty aside an encrusted tiara lay knocked over. the tendrils that hung from the ceiling in most rooms has found itself wrapped around everything here. sweat dripped off Adams face at this room, he could feel the heat being exuded from deeper in the room, in a corner he couldn't see. He felt pressure to run. They moved quickly to pass this room.

  The shifting light grew weaker, its once steady orange glow thinning into long, wavering streaks along the walls. Adam watched as the edges of the hall they stepped into darkened first, the shelves and furniture sinking into shadow while the golden trim of the columns and bookshelves behind him gleamed faintly in contrast. The light wasn’t going out all at once—it was a scary thought 'would the light come back?'

  His little brother was the first to whisper it. "It's also too dark to see, we should go back into the first room?"

  The older boy swallowed, shaking his head. "We should see as much as we can, while we can. we should look for an exit."

  "it’s leaving us behind." said James. watching the receding light.

  The words sent a cold feeling creeping down his spine. The shadows thickened, stretching and pooling in ways that didn’t seem natural. The rooms behind, once strange but still just a room, now felt oppressive. As if it was changing along with the light, adjusting to something unseen.

  His brother moved closer, gripping him with both hands. "I don’t like this," he murmured.

  Neither did he. The darkness wasn’t just filling the space—it was taking it over.

  Adam watching as he and James stood completely still and darkness completely overtook them.

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  And that was when the first real noises began.

  The first time they were in complete darkness, they heard it—

  Crunch.

  A Wet Crunching. Like a bucket over filled spilling and metal teeth biting into wood.

  Somewhere behind them in a room yet unexplored.

  Neither of them had moved. Neither had spoken. The fear had been instant, coiling tight in his chest, making his stomach clench like a fist. His legs felt like stone, as if moving would shatter something fragile within him. He could hear his brother’s breath—fast, uneven, almost wheezing—but neither of them turned. Neither of them wanted to turn.

  The air had changed. It felt heavier, charged with something unseen but electric, like a storm waiting to break. The hairs on his arms prickled. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, nails digging into his palms, grounding him in the moment.

  His brother was shaking against him. He felt the way the younger boy’s fingers gripped his hand tighter, like an anchor against the rising tide of panic. two emotions clashed in Adams heart, first, He needs to protect him, to shield his brother from whatever was in the house with them. second, primitive instinct to abandon the boy beside him; and simply save himself.

  A slow, wet sound cut through the silence again, the squelching like something being torn apart. His breath hitched. His brother let out a tiny whimper, barely a sound at all, but it was enough. Enough to make his heart slam against his ribs. Enough to make him feel the thing behind them—watching, hungering. Forked tongue licking his ear. Enough to make him remember, protect James. He should step to the creature and the boy should find safety in another room.

  The darkness pressed in, thick and suffocating, swallowing the edges of their vision. It wasn’t just absence—it was alive, pressing closer, wrapping around them like unseen fingers reaching through the air.

  Silence. for one minute, then another. The kind that settled heavy and unnatural, as if the entire house had been holding its breath alongside them. His own breathing sounded too loud in his ears; his brother's uneven gasps sharp against the suffocating stillness. Both boys swaying slightly, trying to stand rigid.

  a creaking of wooden floorboards alerted him to the location of something in this house. Further down the hallway, it was not actually next to them.

  with relief he noticed then, from the edges of the darkness, the first flicker of orange light pushed through.

  It was faint at first, barely more than a whisper of the glow against the walls, but it grew. steady. The shadows shifted, recoiling as the light rolled in a slow-moving tide. The deep orange glow stretched across the ceiling, licking over the tendrils, which curled slightly in response, twisting as if adjusting to the returning illumination. A flood of deep cold orange lighting.

  the noises stopped.

  with the light back they will be able to see, able to flee.

  Adams eyes locked on the empty hallway, no movement, nothing. Silence reigned again. After what felt like a year the breath came back to the brothers. nothing happened, maybe a strange quirk of the house, maybe not. Unwilling to search for the noise they sped away in the opposite direction.

  The older boy exhaled shakily, eyes locked on the way the light transformed the rooms. It wasn't just light—it was precious. The orange radiance wasn't steady or still. It swept across the walls, bending and stretching, as if something outside was dragging it along, casting distorted shadows that writhed unnaturally. The thought sent a cold sensation through him. his imagination run wild, there might be more than one thing living here.

  His brother tugged on his sleeve, voice small. "It came back... the light" His whisper was laced with something fragile, something close to relief but not quite reaching it. Because the light had returned, but the fear had not left.

  The older boy swallowed. He could see the way the tendrils recoiled from the light, yet they didn't retreat. They only shifted, curling slightly inward, responding in some way he couldn't understand. His imagination filled in the gaps—'what if they were waiting? What if they could feel? what if the moment we moved to close they grab us? how will i save James?'

  The glow passed slowly, leaving them with fleeting illumination. But the light wasn't just a comfort. Not anymore. It only reminded them of what came with that strange darkness.

  They had pressed forward to find an exit. Had to. There was no staying still anymore, no more standing in the dark, waiting for whatever had made that sound to reach them.

  Adam took a step forward, then another, bring James with him.

  The hallway stretched impossibly long, its walls lined with gilded trim and deep archways that led into unknown darkness. The space felt too big—vast in a way that made the boys feel small, like insects scurrying through an abandoned castle, with a giant looming over them. Each step they took echoed too much, swallowed by the hush of the house.

  They half ran, too scared to make any noise. 'What if it heard them? what if the tendrils sought them?' glancing back several times as he ran, seeing James barely keep up with him, till Adam was caught in the stomach with a might blow. he was pivoted and slammed into the opposing wall. then, a shattering noise. panicked and wild. Adam sucked in a new lungful of air. staring in bewilderment at the shattered porcelain vase on the ground. looking up he noticed the shelf he ran into; amongst the painting and hangings the shelves that lined the walls were set at irregular intervals. taking another deep breath, he jumped to his feet. pain ignored, in a true panic now. bolting with all this might he ran.

  They stepped into a vast new space—a ballroom, but not like any they had seen before. Every surface gleamed, the walls and ceiling covered entirely in mirrors that stretched upward into a vanishing darkness. The reflections multiplied infinitely, creating a maze of shifting light and shadow.

  The moment Adam stepped inside; his breath caught. James was no longer at his side.

  "James?" His voice wavered, half shout half quiver. " Yeah?" a disembodied voice next to him answered. twisting to find the boy Adam walked in a circle, then looked up and down searching for the boy. he could still hear him—just beside him, just behind him—though his physical form was gone. Instead, countless reflections of his little brother surrounded him, appearing in every mirrored surface, each one looking directly at him, but the boy was gone from behind him.

  "I’m right here," James said, confused, his voice echoing strangely. Adam turned sharply, heart pounding, but there was still nobody. Only reflections. Hundreds of them.

  His skin crawled. "How are you doing that?" Adam demanded, his voice rising. "I'm not doing anything!" shouted James's back. then the infinite reflections stomped their feet in unison. confused Adam reached for where his brother was shown to be, but nothing. although in all the reflections the boy fell over from the sudden force. trying to grip the boy doesn't work either. "Get on my back," he said, his voice low, urgent. "Now."

  There was a pause, and then the reflected form starts to climb on him, settling its arms on his shoulders, arms wrapping tightly under his chin. Adam gripped where James’s legs should be, holding him steady. The mirrors shifted, distorted around them, as if the room itself had taken notice of the actions.

  They moved forward in careful yet large steps, trying to put distance from the strange noises. The polished floor slick beneath Adams shoes. Beneath them, once-green plants had withered to dust, brittle stems crumbling at the slightest disturbance. The remains of flowers lay untouched in vases, frozen in time yet utterly lifeless.

  Then Adam saw them—the portraits. Framed, hanging perfectly aligned along the mirrored walls, but wrong.

  suddenly stopping Infront of one. A closely familiar face—an uncle he hadn't seen in years— Tommy sat in a high-backed chair, the top of his head was missing, but his expression was serene, as if nothing was amiss. staring Adam watched the unremarkable man. till his eyes moved over to another one—his second-grade teacher—gazed lovingly into a room filled with starving children, there bodies bent and shriveled. her clawed hands folded as though in prayer. An another after, the neighbor girl he knew he had seen her playing with other children from his block. sat at a table, she reading a newspaper, but her clothes fit wrong. they had twisted unnaturally around her, coiling over her head and shoulders as though attempting to suffocating her. The faces in the portraits felt aware, their hollow eyes following him as he walked. begging for him to stay.

  fear guided his footsteps away, his brother whimpering like a wounded animal and buried himself in Adams neck.

  The wrought iron candle holders spready evenly thought out the room mounted to the walls flickered to life with dim orange flames—not from same light from outside, but from within the mirrors themselves. The glow stretched only far enough to cast a pale, flickering illumination around Adam and James, barely enough to pierce the vastness of the room. not enough to see the ceiling or anything in the imposing darkness behind the mirrors.

  Then—as Adam took another step.

  A noise. A shattering, like glass breaking in slow, deliberate cracks. the sound was of mountains trembling, passions itself snapping, and it came from behind him.

  He moved faster, his breath sharp and shallow. With every step, another crack rang out, as if the mirrors were fracturing just behind his heels.

  Then, in the reflections beneath his feet, he saw them—shadows of movement. The underbelly of something vast, fins cutting through unseen depths. The creatures existed inside the glass, but no matter how frantically he glanced around, they weren’t in the real room. Only their distorted, shifting shapes swam beneath the surface of the mirrored world. like his brother.

  The forms were of large half shaped squid creatures, and schools of powerful jaws, surrounding his little lighted way. deep under the ocean.

  Adam focused on the boy on his shoulders, 'had James always had such light pale hair?' Adams breaths came ragged as the looked on, his thoughts racing. "When did James have so many fingers?" pain lit upon Adam as he could now feel James's sharp nails digging into his back. He must protect the boy.

  thrashing and twisting Adam rolled and slammed his body into a glass pillar, pain exploded throughout his body again. shivers of broken breath escaped him. once again looking into the closest mirror. James was gone. Jumping to his feet and bursting into a sprint. Adam headed towards a now visible empty doorway. one where the light came from outside the house, rather than inside of it.

  he entered a large receiving room, with no door, just a wall with history and a beautiful mosaic window above the stairs.

  The grand entrance loomed ahead of him, its twin staircases rising open arms to the second floor. Massive picture frames lining the walls bore unfamiliar, dust-covered portraits, their faces warped by time. The polished furniture—chaises, tables, gilded mirrors—stood undisturbed, yet oddly placed, like a stage set waiting for the actors to arrive.

  Adams steps grew slower, their muscles coiled tight, trembling under the weight of their own nerves. The fear was no longer a distant hum in their thoughts—it was in their bones now, pressing into them, making his breath shallow and hurried.

  James was gone, his fingers no longer clinging to Adam. unsteady.

  Adam simply nodded; his throat dry. He could feel it. The space wasn’t just vast—it was wrong. It had weight, presence, like the house itself was waiting for him to realize he and his brother were trespassers. He must protect his brother, but at this moment he was to afraid to turn back, to craven to find him. Maybe this was better, maybe the boy will find a way out.

  Then the window above the staircase blazed with the brightest glow yet, a deep orange hue pouring in, stretching his shadows long against the floor.

  Adam gasped, dragging himself behind a couch. one unsteady breath. two. three. until the shaking stopped in his legs. powerful convolutions racked him body. spit and blood mixed in him mouth. he curled upon himself, tightly. he sat, and he cried. gave into all of his feelings and held himself. He was alone, and scared now, and allowed to express it.

  after a couple minutes and the dehydration took him, licking his chapped lips while rubbing his still hazy eyes. he noticed it.

  something like a plane crashing hit Adam, a cracking of thunder in his ears. the light was starting to fade!

  Jumping up and running to the base of the stairs, chasing the light, fear urging his feet forward again because he couldn’t be left behind. The light had to stay with them. with him, it had to—

  The window above the staircase blazed with the strongest glow, but even as it illuminated the space, its cold light shone. he could see it beginning to wane. It wasn’t fading all at once, but slowly, again Adma had the image of something pulling it away, stretching it thinner and thinner. The shadows, which had been forced back by the orange light, started to creep forward again, reclaiming the space in uneven waves. The tendrils along the ceiling curled, shifting slightly as if sensing the change. Electric fields palpable, he can taste the energy, like licking a battery.

  Adam swallowed hard, gripping his shirt in the front tighter. "It’s going away again, faster" he bared his teeth.

  His little brother gone, his breath hitching, the walls swirling. "I have to follow it. i have to save my brother."

  There was no argument. The fear of being left behind in the darkness pushed Adam forward. He scrambled up the stairs, his footsteps urgent and uneven. Each step he climbed, the glow weakened more, the cold of its presence slipping away. The edges of the grand entrance blurred into shadows, the towering columns and high walls seeming to stretch taller as darkness reclaimed them. the stairs felt infinite; time stopped working correctly.

  The boy was shaking, his fingers twisting into his own clothes as he ran. Adam felt the tremors, and he knew—he was running from more than the dark. He was running from what came with it. a thing- a creature, stalking him, he knew it would find him. He knew it. it was determined to get his pray, but he was sure to escape. he simply just had to follow the light. just be faster, and faster still.

  Darkness drowned the world again.

  Then—

  Scrape.

  The sound came slowly, deliberate, like something immense shifting its weight just beneath him. A deep, dragging noise scraped against the marble at the base of the stairs, wet and grinding, as if bone and sinew were being forced into motion. The noise crawled up the stairwell, wrapping around Adams beating heart, pressing against his back, an unseen hand. The boy's breath hitched, his stomach twisting so hard it felt like he might be sick. His whimpers and pounding head, his grip tightening like a vice around his shirt, pulling himself along. He knew, instinctively, that whatever had made that sound was after him. It was awake now, aware, and it was coming.

  a suppressed giggling came from somewhere in the dark, it sounded twisted and misshape. a horrid whistling cough.

  Wet cracks came from behind them, sloshing and spilling. spreading with force. liquid running up the walls, threating to trip him.

  He grabbed toward the top of the staircase. Yanking himself toward the nearest doorframe. He stumbled inside just as the darkness thickened behind him. solidifying.

  A doorway, a bathroom.

  The gold-trimmed marble gleamed under the fading light. Green tiles. A walk-in shower, its glazed glass blurry and warped. The air was still. The darkness was not.

  it was moving outside.

  A slow, deliberate swish—like a tail dragging over stone or a spilling of a mop bucket.

  he refused to breathe properly. the world hummed. His fist was curled into a ball, gripping his arm so hard it hurt. Adam couldn't push it away. He held tight.

  The sound—low, almost a growl—rumbled somewhere beyond the doorway. Not quite close, but not far enough. His heart pounded so loudly it filled his ears, as though his own fear had a heartbeat.

  wet pounding came ever closer, his pursuer close. Adam held himself, pressing further into the cold hard edge of a toilet rim, cowering.

  And then—the light returned. it was olny gone a second, but a second to long.

  His breath shuddered out. His body ached with tension. His jaw released its tension. He almost told himself it was okay—

  But then Adams body became ridged in his arms.

  Wide eyes, horror-stricken, eyes locked on the doorway.

  Adams stomach dropped.

  Slowly, heart hammering in his throat, he blinked and watched open mouthed. fear stifling a scream.

  It was right there.

  Not fully in sight. Not yet.

  Just a hand.

  A reptilian, clawed hand, curled around the edge of the doorframe. It was massive—scales thick and dull, cracked like dried earth. It rested there, motionless, just barely visible past the gilded trim.

  It wasn’t moving. It wasn’t coming in.

  It was waiting.

  as Adam was starting to comprehend his terror, he noticed it again.

  The light—The light was starting to fade again, faster this time. It flickered and waned as if being pulled away more urgently, leaving behind jagged shadows that stretched and twisted unnaturally along the walls. Time itself felt as though it had sped up, the intervals of darkness lasting longer, the moments of illumination shrinking. The tendrils curled tighter, their spindly forms shifting slightly in response, almost as if sensing the change. The boys’ breath refused to leave his mouth as the oppressive blackness threatened to swallow him whole once more, his fear mounting as he realized—the darkness was swarming.

  And the hand hadn’t moved.

  A thought, wild and unwelcome, crept into his mind—

  'What if it knows I see it?'

  'What if it knows i fear it?'

  'what if i never had a brother?'

  Adams red curls obscuring the twisted tendrils above him. moving to envelope him.

  His voice shuddered violently, breath coming in silent, choked gasps.

  His own hands curled into fists. Nails digging into his palms, cutting flesh.

  he couldn’t run.

  he couldn’t hide.

  The darkness crept in once more.

  And then—

  A single, deliberate tap.

  A claw against the doorframe.

  the scream escaped him, unable to stop it.

  he was caught.

  Hey everyone!

  -Anti-Player