The sky above that house was always gray,
as if the sun refused to look at it.
Fatih stood before the same door—a decaying house
rotting from time and memories.
The stench of moldy wood, sour earth,
and dried blood crept through the cracks in the floor.
He knew this place.
He had been here.
And yet… he hadn't.
There was a gap in his mind.
A fine fracture, slowly widening.
The door opened by itself.
Darkness welcomed him, like a wound that refused to heal.
Inside, time stood still.
Scratch marks covered the walls.
The floor was cracked.
The once-collapsed stairs now stood whole again.
This house was alive—or pretending to be dead.
In the center of the room, hanging on a rusted nail
that should have long crumbled: his mother's locket.
Still intact. Still waiting.
Fatih stepped forward.
His hand reached out—and as his fingers touched the cold metal,
everything changed.
The house vanished.
The sky collapsed.
The world turned inward upon itself.
A corridor emerged from the void.
Its walls were damp.
His breath echoed.
And at the end of the corridor—a shadow.
Tall. Thin. Floating.
Faceless… but Fatih knew it.
That face shifted.
For a moment, it was his mother.
Then, Keyla.
Then… himself.
The shadow opened its mouth,
and a voice spilled out like a whisper from the grave.
"You will love me…"
"And you will destroy me."
Fatih tried to turn back,
but his body wouldn't move.
The locket in his hand burned red—scorching skin,
piercing bone.
Light shot up from the floor.
Laughter rang out.
His mother's voice.
Keyla's sobs.
His own voice… begging.
The corridor crumbled.
The shadow screamed.
And the house exploded into darkness.
Fatih awoke.
His breath was ragged,
his body drenched in sweat.
The room was dark,
but not the same dark as before.
His hands trembled.
He looked down—the locket gripped tightly in his hand,
though he clearly remembered…
putting it away in the drawer.
And for some reason,
even though he was awake,
the scent of rotting wood still lingered.