Late at night, the creaking of the floorboards sing a haunting melody, their tune familiar to those who dare to listen. It is a song of caution, whispers echoing through the walls. "Leave," they say, "before the clock strikes its final hour."
Your feet know the path; you wander its familiar bends and corners in dreams. Yet, waking up, an unfamiliar scent drifts through the air, damp like autumn rain. The door stands ajar, revealing shadows that seemed to shift with unyielding intent.
Beneath the grand staircase, there lies a shadow that knows no light. Intuition warns you without voice or reason—an artifice of darkness lies thick and palpable.
"Why do you linger?" it seems to ask. "You are not meant to be here, and yet, here you are." The questions carry no malice, only an undeniable gravity, pulling you deeper into the mystery.
Somewhere, a clock ticks out of time, measuring intervals between breaths and heartbeats. You turn, expecting company, yet, all is still. "It speaks the truth," you whisper to yourself. "Trust your fears; they know the way out."
Explore further, if you dare: Corridor Echoes | Hidden Recesses | Pathway to Escape