The clearing appeared suddenly, as if the forest itself had parted to reveal it. In the center stood a house—if you could call it that. It was more like a rotting carcass of a building, its walls sagging, its windows shattered. The roof was caved in on one side, and vines snaked their way up the decaying wood.

“This is it,” Cece said, her voice trembling.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry. “How do you know?”

“I’ve been here before,” she said, her eyes fixed on the house. “This is where they took me.”

We approached cautiously, the crunch of leaves underfoot the only sound. The air felt wrong—heavy and charged, like the moments before a storm.

The front door creaked open as if it had been waiting for us. Cece glanced at me, her face pale, and stepped inside.

The stench hit me immediately—a nauseating mix of rot, mold, and something metallic. I gagged, pulling my jacket over my nose.

The interior was worse than I’d imagined. The walls were covered in strange symbols, carved deep into the wood. The floor was littered with broken furniture, shattered glass, and bones.

Human bones.

“Oh my god,” I whispered, stepping back.

Cece didn’t respond. She was staring at something on the far wall—a large, faded portrait. It depicted two figures in long black cloaks, their faces obscured by plague doctor masks.

Before I could speak, a noise came from upstairs—a heavy, deliberate thud.

We froze.

“Someone’s here,” I whispered.

Cece nodded, her face tight with fear. “It’s them.”