CHAPTER THREE

Alex pulled back from the hug, his gaze lingering on Aila before a teasing smile curled on his lips.

"Still as short as ever," he quipped.

Aila scoffed, crossing her arms. "I am not. My height is literally average."

"Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night," he teased back, amusement dancing in his eyes.

Before she could argue further, Alex gestured toward the group beside him. "I want you to meet my friends—these two are Henry and James," he said, pointing at the twins, who stood up in unison, offering identical grins.

"Nice to finally meet you," Henry said, arms crossed. "Alex talks about you more than he'd ever admit."

"I do not," Alex shot back, rolling his eyes.

James smirked. "Mhm, sure."

Aila let out a soft laugh before shifting her attention to the last boy.

"And this is Theo," Alex continued.

As Theo stepped forward, Aila was struck by how different he seemed up close. His green eyes—cool and sharp—softened when he smiled. He should smile more, she thought to herself.

"You're not from around here, are you?" Theo asked, studying her with quiet curiosity.

"No," Aila admitted, tilting her head. "Is it that obvious?"

"A little," he said, glancing toward the towering mansion behind them. "Just... be careful. This place has a way of changing people."

Aila raised an eyebrow. "What, like turning them into vampires? Or worse—rich snobs?"

Theo huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "You joke, but you'd be surprised."

"Great," Aila deadpanned. "Let me know when I start craving blood or criticizing people's table manners."

Theo smirked, but there was something unreadable in his expression, like he knew more than he was letting on.

Before Aila could respond, a deep, resounding chime rang through the air, echoing across the vast estate. It was a sound that sent a faint shiver down her spine.

"Dinner time," Alex announced with a grin, breaking the moment. "Or, as I like to call it, surviving my mother's interrogation."

~

Dinner was served at a long mahogany table, its polished surface reflecting the dim chandelier light. Aila sat across from her aunt, but her attention kept drifting—to the unsettling stare burning into her.

At first, she thought it was Theo. His gaze lingered on her longer than it should, but there was something off about it. Cold. Unreadable. It made her shift in her seat.

Then, beneath the table, she felt it.

A brush of cold air. Too cold.

Aila frowned, adjusting in her chair. Maybe there was a draft? But when she glanced around, she saw no open windows.

The air grew denser, heavy with something she couldn't name. The candle flames trembled slightly, flickering as though disturbed by an invisible force. A faint, distant scraping reached her ears—so soft it might've been her own chair against the wood.

Might've been.

She turned her attention back to the conversation. Her aunt spoke with composed elegance, recounting old stories, while Alex filled the space with laughter, sharing absurd university mishaps. The warmth of the moment almost made her forget the creeping unease.

Almost.

Then, the lights flickered.

Once.

Twice.

And then—darkness swallowed the room whole.

The shift was immediate. The lively conversation stilled, replaced by the oppressive silence of an ancient house breathing in the dark. The air thickened, pressing inward, as though the walls themselves were listening.

Aila's fingers curled around her fork. Something about the pitch-black stillness felt wrong.

"Probably just a faulty wire," her aunt said, her tone almost too dismissive. "It happens often. The power will be back in a few moments."

Aila exhaled slowly, nodding. Just the wiring. No ghosts, no monsters.

Still, the silence stretched too long.

Somewhere beneath the table, something moved.

It was soft at first—a whisper of motion, like fabric shifting. Aila stiffened, the tiny hairs on her arms rising.

Then, she felt it.

Something pressed against her thigh.

It wasn't accidental. It wasn't brief.

It was cold. Deliberate. Wrong.

Her breath hitched. Every nerve in her body screamed at her to move, but fear anchored her in place. Slowly, she reached for her phone, flicking on the flashlight, the beam shaky in her trembling grip.

She tilted it downward.

The light cut through the darkness—

And then she saw it.

At first, it was just a shadow, pooling beneath the table like a thick, ink-like stain. But as she stared, the darkness shifted, unfolded, as something crouched within it.

Limbs—too long, too sharp—pressed against the wooden floor, its fingers splayed unnaturally. The shape of it was unstable, flickering in and out of solidity, as though it couldn't decide what it wanted to be.

Then, it looked up.

Its eyes—hollow, endless pits—locked onto hers.

Aila's body seized with terror. Her breath came in ragged, uneven gasps, her pulse pounding in her ears.

It tilted its head, bones—or something like bones—cracking with the motion. Its jagged mouth curled into something that was almost a grin.

And then—it moved.

Aila barely had time to scream before it lurched forward.

She shoved her chair back with a violent jolt, the legs scraping against the floor as she stumbled away. Her foot caught on the rug, and the next thing she knew, she was crashing to the ground, her breath ripped from her lungs.

Theo and Alex were at her side in an instant.

"Aila, what happened?!" Alex demanded, his voice sharp with concern.

She could barely form the words, her heart hammering against her ribs. With a shaking hand, she pointed toward the table, her flashlight still casting eerie shadows beneath it.

"There's something under the table," she gasped.

Alex crouched down, lifting the tablecloth to peer underneath. His brows furrowed as he scanned the empty space. Nothing. Just polished wooden floors and chair legs.

"There's nothing here, Aila," he said, his voice gentle but firm.

Aila shook her head, her breathing still uneven. No. She saw it. She felt it.

Theo, his arm still caught in her grip, glanced at her with a calm expression. Too calm. As if this wasn't surprising to him at all.

"Are you sure it wasn't just—"

"I know what I saw," she interrupted, her voice tight.

Theo hesitated, his green eyes unreadable. But he didn't argue.

It took a full five minutes of coaxing—Alex trying to reason with her, Theo murmuring reassurances, and the twins exchanging uncertain glances—before Aila finally let herself breathe.

Her aunt, meanwhile, was busy with the servants trying to get the power back on.

But in the dim candlelight, just before the electricity returned, Aila caught something.

A flicker of movement in Theo's expression.

A brief moment where his calm facade cracked—just enough to reveal something beneath it.

Not disbelief.

Not confusion.

But recognition.

As if he already knew what she saw.

As if he had seen it before.

And that?

That scared her even more.

As the panic faded, she suddenly became very aware of the fact that she had been clinging onto Theo the entire time—her hands gripping his arm, her head buried against him.

Heat rushed to her cheeks. She stiffened, immediately pulling back. Oh God.

Before she could dwell on the embarrassment, the lights flickered back to life, washing the room in an almost-too-bright glow.

Aila stood quickly, muttering a hurried, "Excuse me," before slipping out of the dining room. But barely a second later, she popped her head back in.

"Alex, come with me," she said.

He raised an eyebrow. "What? Why?"

She shifted on her feet. "Because I don't want to walk alone in this creepy mansion after what I saw."

A slow smirk crept onto his face. "So you admit it. You're a scaredy cat."

Aila scowled. Without a second thought, she kicked him in the shin.

"Ow!" Alex yelped, grabbing his leg.

"But did I lie?" he wheezed.

Aila huffed. "I know what I saw, Alex. I'm not lying."

His smirk softened into something more thoughtful, but he just shook his head. "Alright, alright. Let's go before you kick me again."

The moment Aila stepped into her room, she switched on every light, flooding the space with warmth. But it still didn't chase away the lingering chill clinging to her skin.

Without a second thought, she ran to her bed, diving beneath the covers, cocooning herself in the only sense of safety she could find. Her heart was still hammering, her mind replaying the image over and over—the twisted limbs, the hollow eyes, the way it had moved toward her.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

She knew what she saw.

She wasn't crazy.

She wasn't.

But then… why was she still so scared?

The mansion was starting to feel off. The longer she stayed, the stranger it became, and Aila didn't like it one bit. Something about this place—its eerie silence, its flickering lights, its lurking shadows—was unsettling.

And yet…

Despite the creeping unease, she found herself giggling at the thought of Theo swooping in, steady and calm, as she clung to him for dear life. God, even in the middle of something terrifying, she still found a way to be cheesy.

She groaned, burying her face into the pillow. Get a grip, Aila.

But the grin on her face refused to fade.