The first pale streaks of dawn tried to break through the dusty windows,
but the fog still curled thickly through the forest.
Emma sat in the living room, clutching the spiral pendant.
Jessica dozed beside her, while Nóra silently flipped through the yellowed book she'd found earlier.
The house was quiet now.
Too quiet.
Emma didn't trust that silence.
She rose and began to explore the rest of the house.
The pendant occasionally twitched in her pocket—like it was trying to signal something.
Toward the back of the house, she found a small room.
Dust blanketed the walls, and the furniture was covered with sheets.
In the corner stood an old writing desk.
Emma stepped closer.
The drawers were locked, but one was cracked and opened easily.
Inside, she found a stack of worn papers.
And a map.
It was hand-drawn.
Not only of the forest—but of the house itself.
And beneath the house… hidden tunnels and unknown rooms.
But something was off.
In the center of the map was a spiral.
And from that point, the paths spread outward in a spiral pattern—like everything led back to the same place.
The spiral's core.
Emma traced one of the paths with her finger.
The paper was cold. Then, suddenly, it began to heat beneath her touch.
Jessica appeared in the doorway.
"Did you find something?"
Emma held up the map.
Jessica stepped closer, frowning.
"It's like… like the house is shifting."
Emma nodded.
"We don't just need to escape… We need to find the center."
Jessica paled.
"What if the center isn't an exit… but a trap?"
Emma clenched the map in her fist.
"Then we find out anyway."
From deep within the house, a new sound echoed.
Something was knocking in the attic.
But this time, it wasn't pleading.
It wasn't violent.
It was rhythmic.
Like a message.
Emma shivered.
And she knew—
The house was trying to speak to them.
But whether it was help or another trap—she couldn't yet tell.
She held the map tightly as Jessica and Nóra hovered behind her.
The knocking came again: three short taps, then a longer one.
Like a code.
Emma took a deep breath.
"We have to go up," she said quietly.
Jessica flinched.
"Do we really have to?"
Emma nodded.
"Whoever—or whatever—it is… it knows we're here. We can't stay blind."
They climbed the rickety attic stairs with care.
The wood groaned beneath their weight.
Emma stopped at the door.
The knocking had stopped.
Only her heartbeat echoed in her ears.
She reached out.
The door was cold.
She pressed the handle.
It gave with a soft groan.
The attic was dark—only a single faint beam of light filtered through a cracked skylight.
The air was thick with dust and mold.
Emma stepped inside slowly.
The attic was full of covered furniture, boxes, and shredded cloth.
The map pulsed in her pocket.
The spiral pendant burned against her chest.
Something was here.
Something old.
Something waiting.
In the beam of light, Emma saw it.
Another doll.
But not like the one in the forest.
This one was smaller. Fragile.
And stitched crudely into its arm—
A name:
"Emma"
Jessica screamed.
Nóra backed away.
Emma stared at the doll, frozen.
Someone—or something—had been preparing for them long before they ever arrived.
Suddenly, whispers rose from the corners of the attic.
Not one voice.
Many.
All at once.
As if the walls, the beams, the air itself whispered.
The words were unclear—but the intent was not:
Stay.
Give up.
Let go.
Emma shut her eyes and fought it with every part of her.
She opened them again, clutching the spiral pendant tightly.
"We won't get lost," she whispered. "Not here. Not like this."
They backed toward the stairs.
The doll remained under the beam of light.
And just as they reached the attic door,
Emma saw it from the corner of her eye.
The doll moved.
But she didn't look back.
She couldn't.
Emma didn't look back.
Not even when the soft creak of floorboards followed them.
They descended the attic stairs in silence, every step a battle against the urge to run.
When they reached the hallway, Jessica gasped for breath, clutching her chest.
Nóra was pale, staring at Emma.
"The doll… it had your name," she whispered.
"I know," Emma replied, voice hollow.
Her hands trembled, but she tucked the map under her arm and looked ahead.
"We're not done."
They returned to the living room, and the moment they crossed the threshold, the spiral pendant around Emma's neck pulsed—once.
Then again.
Slower.
As if… reacting to something nearby.
Jessica noticed it.
"Is it warning us? Or guiding us?"
Emma turned the pendant over. On the back, a faint engraving shimmered under the dim light.
A number: Room 5.
She blinked.
"We've never seen that room before."
Nóra furrowed her brow. "There is no Room 5… unless—"
She stopped, eyes wide.
"The locked door in the back hallway."
Emma nodded.
They grabbed a flashlight and made their way down the hall. The air grew colder with each step.
When they reached the end, a narrow wooden door stood there—quiet, unassuming, yet pulsing with wrongness.
A small brass plaque read: Room 5.
The flashlight flickered.
Emma reached for the doorknob.
Locked.
But the moment her fingers touched it, the spiral pendant glowed faintly—
And the lock clicked open.
The door creaked inward.
Inside was a room unlike any they'd seen.
Stone walls. No windows. Symbols carved into every surface.
And in the center, a spiral etched into the floor—burned deep into the wood, like something had scorched it there long ago.
Emma stepped in, but Jessica hesitated at the threshold.
"I don't like this…"
Emma looked over her shoulder.
"Neither do I. But we have to know what it wants."
The moment all three were inside, the door slammed shut behind them.
Darkness swallowed the space.
And from the walls—
Whispers rose again.
But this time, one voice stood out.
Not just a whisper.
A memory.
A familiar voice.
"Emma…"
It was her mother's voice.
Emma's breath caught in her throat.
She turned—eyes darting, heart racing.
"No. This can't be—"
But the voice came again.
Soft. Reassuring.
And cruelly, unmistakably hers.
"Emma… come back."
Emma fell to her knees.
The spiral on the floor pulsed with light.
Memories twisted inside her—real and false, grief and comfort blending.
Jessica grabbed her arm.
"Don't listen to it! It's not real!"
Emma shook, the pull of the spiral like a riptide dragging her under.
And still, her mother's voice whispered:
"You know you never left… you've always been here…"