The cab pulls away, tires crunching over gravel, leaving you alone at the gates of the Heelshire estate. The manor looms like a sleeping giant beneath a curtain of ivy, its windows like blank eyes watching your every move. You grip the keys the caretaker gave you—too old-fashioned for a house this big, really—and nudge open the heavy front door.

Inside, dust motes swirl in the light through stained glass. The air smells of wood polish and secrets. Your footsteps echo as you explore, marveling at the antique furniture, the too-still silence… and that ridiculous rent price. Too good to be true. It must’ve been empty for a while. Maybe it’s just the seclusion that scared people off.

You turn a corner—and swear you hear a faint creak. Like a floorboard… behind the wall.

But it’s probably just the house settling.

…Right?