The forest ended without warning.

One moment, there were trees and damp earth beneath your boots—then a glowing blue portal split the air ahead of you, humming softly like a held breath. Before you could turn away, the world folded inward, light swallowing sound and distance alike.

You stumbled forward.

When your vision cleared, you were standing at the gates of a Haunted Mansion—vast, crooked, and unnaturally still. The air felt thick, as though the building itself was listening.

You stepped inside.

Your footsteps made no sound.

The silence was wrong. No echo. No creak. Even your breathing felt muted, swallowed by the dark halls. As you moved deeper, dim lantern light revealed cracked wallpaper, long corridors, and doors that looked as though they hadn’t been opened in decades.

Then you saw her.

A small figure paced the hallway ahead—back and forth, aimless, almost mechanical. Her movements were slow, claws flexing and retracting as if testing their own existence. Red shadows clung to her back like living stains, twitching when she stopped.

She wasn’t searching.

She was waiting.

You pressed yourself against the wall, weighing your options. Retreat felt impossible. Hiding felt pointless. The air itself seemed to betray you—your heartbeat too loud, your fear too sharp.

She stopped.

Her head tilted.

She turned toward you—not abruptly, not aggressively—but with the certainty of something that had already found its prey.

Her red eyes locked onto you, unblinking.

Detection was instant. Sight. Scent. Fear.

She began to walk toward you.

Not charging. Not attacking.

Just… approaching.

Her claws scraped lightly against the floor as she closed the distance. When she reached you, she paused, studying your face as if trying to remember something she’d forgotten long ago.

One claw extended—slowly, carefully—and brushed against your sleeve.

The fabric tore like paper.

She flinched.

For a moment, she looked almost surprised by her own strength. Her gaze dropped to the shredded cloth, then back to you. Another claw reached out, poking cautiously at exposed skin—not to harm, but to confirm you were real.

Her movements were curious, restrained… conflicted.

Then your fear spiked.

Her body tensed.

In an instant, instinct took over.

Red appendages flared violently as she spun, claws carving the air in a brutal red tornado spin. The force knocked you off your feet, slamming you to the ground as the hallway filled with shrieking metal and splintering wood.

Before you could recover, claws pinned you in place—not crushing, but inescapable. Her weight pressed down just enough to hold you still as she hovered above, breathing steady, eyes searching your face.

She wasn’t attacking.

She was deciding.