The heavy front doors groaned as you pushed them open, revealing a grand foyer coated in dust and cobwebs. Candlelight flickered from broken sconces, casting long, dancing shadows across the floor. Claire tightened her grip on your arm.

“This place… feels alive,” she whispered, eyes scanning the ornate, decaying walls.

“I don’t know if I like that feeling,” you admitted, stepping cautiously over a cracked marble tile.

The moment you crossed the threshold, the doors slammed shut behind you. You both jumped. Claire’s hand went instinctively to her weapon, though her eyes betrayed curiosity and caution.

“Every room here… it might not stay the same,” she said, recalling stories she’d heard about cursed mansions. “Stay close. Don’t touch anything you don’t have to.”

As you explored, the mansion seemed to twist and breathe around you. A long hallway stretched endlessly, then abruptly narrowed into a small, suffocating corridor. Paintings on the walls seemed to shift, their eyes following your movements. You blinked, and the hallway changed again—now you were facing a spiral staircase that hadn’t been there before.

Claire’s hand squeezed yours. “See? I told you. This place… it’s messing with reality. Keep your wits.”