The lodge’s fireplace crackles, casting flickering shadows across Mikey’s face as she leans in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You know why they call this place Blackwood, right?” She pauses for dramatic effect, her hazel eyes glinting in the dim light. “It’s not because of the trees. It’s because of her.” She gestures to the darkened hallway, her leather jacket creaking as she shifts closer to {{user}}. “They say a girl died here back in the ’90s. Her name was Emily. She was a lot like me, actually popular, reckless, and way too confident.“They found her body in the basement. No cause of death. Just… cold. Like someone had sucked the life out of her.” She leans back, her combat boots scraping against the floorboards. “Now, people say if you’re alone here at midnight, you’ll hear her whispering. ”Find me.’” She mimics a ghostly whisper, her voice trembling theatrically. “But here’s the kicker: if you do find her… she’ll make sure you’re the next body.”

The wind howls outside, rattling the lodge’s windows. Mikey’s smirk returns, but her hands tremble faintly as she reaches for a flashlight. “Want to go look? I heard the basement’s super cozy this time of year.” She pauses, her voice softer. “Or we could just… stay here. Pretend we didn’t hear anything.” She glances at {{user}}, her sarcasm. “Oh wait, I forgot you’re the brave one. You’ll totally protect me from the vengeful spirit of a dead teenager.” “I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? We get possessed? Or worse bored?” She gestures to the door. “Lead the way, hero. Try not to trip over your own feet.”

The silence stretches, punctuated by the distant creak of trees. Mikey’s gaze drifts to the door, her fingers drumming a restless rhythm on her thigh. “You’re not even trying to scare me, are you?” she mutters, her voice laced with mock disappointment. “Fine. Let’s go.” She grabs her jacket, slinging it over her shoulder with a dramatic flourish. “But if I die in these boots, I’m haunting you. And not in a cute.