The air froze.
Devil's eyes locked on the two burning orbs glowing in the shadows. Crimson. Unblinking. Alive. They weren't merely lights—they were intent, malicious, aware of every movement, every faltering heartbeat. A wave of terror struck him so hard it felt like his veins had crystallized into ice. His chest tightened, lungs refused to work, and the world narrowed to that horrifying gaze. He wanted to scream—but no sound came out.
The house groaned around them, the timbers stretching and sighing, as if the very walls had grown sentient, leaning closer to watch them, to devour them whole.
Then—CRACK!
A violent shudder ripped through the floor. The broken window clattered, shards of glass rattling like bones. Old beams strained under some unseen weight, their groans turning into low, desperate wails.
Sun's scream pierced the air, sharp and frantic.
"Devil! Don't just stand there!"
But Devil couldn't move. The eyes had him. They weren't just watching—they were inside him, crawling along the edges of his thoughts, unraveling his courage, stripping away his fear, and leaving a hollow emptiness where sanity once lived. He felt memories twisting, shadowy fingers tugging at recollections of his childhood, of whispers his grandfather had spoken when no one else was around.
Rick's voice cut through the spell like a lifeline.
"Devil!"
He lunged forward, slamming his hand onto Devil's shoulder with all his strength. The shock of contact was electric. Devil staggered, gasping, his chest heaving. And in that instant—the eyes vanished. Not gone… merely retreating, dissolving into the dark corners of the room as if the shadows themselves had swallowed them whole, leaving behind a suffocating emptiness.
Silence returned. Not peaceful—oppressive, almost alive, pressing down like a weight upon their chests. Four pairs of lungs drew in ragged breaths. Dust floated in the air like ash from a dead fire.
Devil's lips trembled. "They're real… it wasn't a dream."
Piu's voice cracked, brittle and frantic. Her body shook uncontrollably.
"I'm not staying another second! If we don't leave now, we'll die!"
No one argued. The instinct to survive overrode fear, reasoning, everything. They ran, bolting into the corridor. Each footstep thudded against rotting wood, sending echoes that seemed to claw back at them. Shadows twisted with every flicker of the moonlight through shattered windows, reaching like blackened fingers.
The stairs groaned under their weight. Walls trembled as if the house itself sought to trap them. A low, guttural hum began, vibrating through the floorboards, a sound too deliberate to be accidental. It reverberated in their bones.
Rick slammed his shoulder against the door. BANG! The rotten wood shattered with a shriek that split the night. One by one they tumbled out—Rick first, then Sun, then Piu, and finally Devil—gasping, clawing at the cold night air.
They collapsed onto the dew-soaked ground outside, coughing, shaking, and clinging to life. The night air was damp and bitter, but at least it wasn't poisoned by shadows.
"I'm never going back there! Do you hear me? Never!" Piu's voice was a high-pitched scream. "There's something inside that house—it wants us dead!"
Rick's jaw clenched so hard it hurt, his fists trembling.
"Those eyes… that voice… it wasn't random. Devil, this is tied to your grandfather. Tell me I'm wrong."
Devil could only shake his head. His heart was still hammering, his mind replaying the whispers over and over. Inside his skull, the words lingered like a cursed refrain: Prepare yourself. The whisper hadn't left him—it had coiled itself in the corners of his mind, waiting.
Sun wiped sweat from his brow, his pale face almost steady in contrast to the chaos.
"Then we have nothing. No proof, no answers. Only more fear. Only more questions."
A gust of wind rose, carrying the scent of rust, wet earth, and something acrid, almost like old incense burnt too long. Devil lifted his gaze toward the sky. The moon struggled behind thick clouds, pale and suffocated. And inside him, something stirred—not just fear, but resolve.
"My grandfather's past… what he did… why that voice is calling me…" Devil's tone was low, measured, yet sharp with unnerving determination. "I will find out. I can't run forever. Not anymore."
The others stared at him, their faces pale, their eyes wide with horror. In Devil's gaze, they saw something darker than fear—a shadow of resolve, sharpened, chilling. Something had awakened inside him.
The night offered no respite.
A sudden gust roared through the broken windows behind them. From the house came a soft sound at first—almost a murmur. Then, unmistakably, it formed into a voice. Familiar, intimate, terrifying.
"Tonight… is only the beginning."
The four froze. The words crept beneath their skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
Then—thump.
Something moved inside the house. Heavy. Deliberate.
Another thump. Closer. Louder.
Their blood ran cold. The house hadn't been empty. It had never been empty. Something awake had been waiting. Something that had recognized them. Something that knew their names.
They spun to run, but Devil froze.
A whisper slid through the night, softer than breath, closer than his own heartbeat:
"Devil… you cannot run. You belong to me."
His blood turned to ice. This time, the voice wasn't inside the house.
It was behind him.
Devil's stomach dropped. He turned slowly, dread curling in his gut. The night seemed to tighten around him, shadows twisting toward a figure he couldn't yet see. The hairs on the back of his neck stood rigid. Something was watching him… something ancient.
And in that instant, the wind carried a thousand tiny whispers, all speaking in the same voice, the same warning:
"You are mine. You have always been mine."
Rick grabbed his arm, but the grip felt like nothing—like holding air. Devil's eyes widened. A shadow emerged from the darkness. Not a person, not quite. Something that should not exist in this world. Its eyes glowed crimson. Its grin… impossible.
Piu screamed. Sun froze. And Devil… he only stared.
Because he knew.
This was only the beginning.