The second day had begun, but no one dared to say "good morning."
Hours passed like a constant whisper—a hum that gnawed at the team's nerves. The sky remained gray, almost oppressive, and the forest around the house seemed to have closed in on them, like a prison made of branches and shadows.
Adam was up before the others. His body had already adapted to the stress—firm muscles, controlled breathing. He approached the upstairs window, silently activating Hunter's Sense.
His eyes widened for a moment. Colors shifted, revealing thermal outlines in red and orange. Nothing human nearby… but something was crouching behind the shed outside—small, distorted, with the wrong shape.
He deactivated the ability, breathing deeply. "Something's waiting."
He went downstairs and found Janaína already awake, sharpening her blade with a broken ceramic shard. Her eyes met his.
— "Did you see anything?" she asked.
— "Yeah. Something small. But not natural."
— "Demon?"
— "Or bait."
The group gathered soon after. Thomas trembled as he passed the crucifix over his lips, and Érica looked pale, but determined.
— "Listen," Adam began, his tone firm and calm, "we need to act logically. This world doesn't work like the others. Here, the enemy doesn't scream or charge in. It breaks us from the inside. We'll investigate the basement. Then follow the trail behind the house."
— "Why do you get to be the leader?" Thomas muttered. "We all have a voice!"
— "Because I've survived two hells," Adam replied, locking eyes with him. "And I'm still standing. You wanna argue about rank or walk out of here with your soul intact?"
Silence.
Janaína nodded. Érica only stared at the floor.
They went to the basement.
The door creaked like it was being opened for the first time in decades. The stench of mold was strong, and the darkness felt solid—refusing to be pierced by their flashlight beams.
Down there: stacked boxes, symbols scratched into the walls, and a crude altar with melted wax and small bones.
Adam activated Thermal Vision briefly. Nothing alive… but there was a heat source beneath the altar.
— "Help me move this," he asked.
They lifted the structure carefully. A rotted wooden hatch hid a narrow passage—like a tunnel.
— "This wasn't in the movie," Érica whispered.
— "This world's based on it… not an exact copy," Adam answered. "We're going down."
That's when it began to fall apart.
A high-pitched scream echoed from the room above.
Janaína ran up but was hurled back through the door, slamming into the wall. Blood trickled from her forehead.
— "There's no one there!" Thomas shouted. "I saw it with my own eyes! But… the mirror! It… it called to me!"
Adam pulled the Cursed Revolver from its holster, aiming into the darkness. The weapon trembled slightly, whispering old words.
— "Out of the basement, now!" he ordered.
Something crawled down the stairs. A shadow, distorted—like a child's body stitched with parts from others. It had a wide smile and glassy eyes.
Bang!
Adam fired.
The shot glowed gold, blasting the creature into the wall. The scent of sulfur filled the air, and it vanished with a piercing shriek.
— "That won't be the last. Just a warning," Adam said, helping Janaína up.
She was bleeding but still strong.
— "Damn hell…" she muttered. "What was that?"
— "A spirit fragment. It wasn't summoned to kill—just to break us. To test us."
— "We keep going?" Érica asked, her voice shaking.
Adam looked at each of them, breathing deep. The tension was thick. But he already knew the answer. The fear was etched into his bones, but the mission was clear.
— "We keep going. But from now on—no one looks away from each other. Not even for a second."
The group left the house through the trail behind the shed, with Adam in the lead. Time began to distort, and the sound of the trees gained voices.
The hell of Hereditary had begun.
And it would show no mercy.