The road stretched ahead, winding like a scar through the countryside.
Ethan sat in the passenger seat, his hands resting tensely in his lap as Noah drove. The world outside the window was still swallowed by darkness, the early morning sky a murky blend of deep blues and grays. The sun had yet to rise, and in the dim light, everything felt distorted—elongated shadows stretched across the empty roads, the trees lining the path twisted into strange, gnarled shapes.
The air inside the car was thick with unspoken thoughts.
Ethan could still hear the voice from the tape in his head.
"Ethan… sweetheart, where are you?"
His mother's voice. The one he had tried so hard to forget.
And then—
"You already know my name."
A voice that wasn't hers. A voice that didn't belong to this world.
He swallowed hard, trying to push the thoughts away, but they stuck to him like a sickness, burrowing deep into his mind.
Noah's voice cut through the silence. "You look like you haven't slept in days."
Ethan let out a dry, humorless chuckle. "I haven't."
Noah sighed, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel. "You sure about this? Going back there?"
Ethan didn't answer right away. He wasn't sure. Not really. Every instinct in his body told him to turn back, to pretend none of this was happening. But it was. And pretending wouldn't make it stop.
"I need to know," Ethan finally said, his voice quieter than before. "I need to see it."
Noah didn't argue. He just nodded, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.
For a while, they drove in silence. The closer they got, the more Ethan could feel it—the invisible weight pressing down on him, growing heavier with each passing mile. It was like the house could sense him coming back, like it had been waiting for him all these years.
Then, at last, Noah slowed the car.
"There."
Ethan's breath caught in his throat.
The house stood at the end of a long, overgrown driveway, half-hidden behind a row of skeletal trees. The iron gate at the entrance hung loosely on its hinges, rusted and bent, as if it hadn't been touched in decades.
And the house itself—it was exactly the same.
The walls were blackened with age, the windows shattered, the roof partially collapsed on one side. Vines crept up the wooden exterior like fingers trying to pull it deeper into the earth. The air around it felt wrong, heavy, thick with something unseen.
Noah turned off the engine, and for a long moment, neither of them moved.
Ethan exhaled slowly. "I thought it would look smaller."
Noah glanced at him. "Does it?"
Ethan shook his head. "No. It looks worse."
Noah reached for his bag, pulling out a flashlight. "You ready?"
Ethan wasn't. But he opened the car door anyway.
The front door groaned as they pushed it open, the sound echoing through the empty halls. The scent of damp wood and decay rushed forward, filling Ethan's nose. Dust floated in the air, catching in the weak light filtering through the broken windows.
Ethan stepped inside first, his heartbeat loud in his ears.
The house was colder than it should have been. Even with the early morning chill, the air inside felt unnaturally frigid.
Noah swept his flashlight across the walls, revealing warped wallpaper peeling away in long, curling strips. The floor beneath them groaned, as if protesting their presence.
And then Ethan saw them.
The symbols.
They were burned into the walls, deep and jagged, black against the rotting wood. They hadn't faded with time. If anything, they looked sharper, more defined. As if someone had re-carved them.
Ethan's chest tightened. His fingers hovered over the marks, but he didn't dare touch them.
"You recognize these?" Noah asked, his voice quieter now.
Ethan nodded. "Yeah. They were here the night of the fire."
Noah's flashlight flickered slightly as he moved it down the hallway. The beam landed on the staircase. The banister was broken, chunks of wood missing, the steps covered in dust and debris.
"We need to find where the fire started," Noah said.
Ethan already knew.
"The basement."
Noah turned to him. "How do you know that?"
Ethan licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry. His hands curled into fists at his sides.
"Because… I remember now."
The moment the words left his mouth, the air shifted.
A quiet hum, almost imperceptible, vibrated through the house. It wasn't the wind. It wasn't the old walls settling. It was something else.
And then, from down the hall—
A whisper.
Ethan's body went rigid.
Noah heard it too. He snapped his flashlight toward the sound. The basement door stood slightly open.
The whispering grew louder. It was low and urgent, a dozen voices murmuring over each other, indistinct but insistent.
Ethan's stomach twisted. His feet felt rooted to the floor.
Then, the door creaked—slowly, as if inviting them in.
Ethan's pulse thundered in his ears. Every part of him screamed to turn back.
But he couldn't.
Because deep down, he knew—whatever had been lurking in his life all these years…
It had been waiting for him to come back.
Noah exhaled, his breath shaky. "We go together."
Ethan forced himself to nod.
Then, side by side, they stepped into the darkness.