Chapter 1: The Path into the Unknown

Chapter 1: The Path into the Unknown

Rain drummed a rhythmic requiem on the roof of the old van as Lucas turned down the radio. The wipers fought desperately against the torrential downpour, but visibility remained milky, as though the world had vanished behind a filthy curtain. In the passenger seat, Jacob lit a cigarette, the orange glow of its tip reflecting in his icy blue eyes.

"If this turns out to be just a fucking ruin, I'll punch you straight in the face," he muttered, blowing smoke against the windshield. His black hoodie was soaked at the shoulders from the rain, the tattoos on his forearms—a wolf's head, a compass—glistening under a layer of condensation.

"You won't be disappointed," Lucas replied without taking his eyes off the road. His sandy hair clung to his forehead in damp strands, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. From the back seat, he heard Natalia laugh, shrill and deliberately exaggerated.

"Hey, Sven! Did you pack your ghost-repellent spray? Or are you praying to your crystal again?" she sneered.

Sven, curled up like a frightened animal by the window, flinched. His oversized raincoat rustled as he pulled the hood deeper over his face. "They're incense sticks," he mumbled. "And yes. Just in case…"

"In case the big bad ghost comes for you?" Jacob cut in, grinning mockingly. "Better watch out Natalia doesn't turn you into a voodoo doll with her eyeliner."

Natalia shot him a dramatic side-eye and pulled out her lipstick to touch up her makeup in the vanity mirror. Her neon-red bob, perfectly styled despite the humidity, clashed sharply with the dull gray of the journey. "If there are real ghosts here, they'll adopt me. I look like their gothic princess." She winked exaggeratedly, but Lucas saw her fingers tremble as she tucked the makeup brush back into her purse.

The van lurched over a series of potholes, and Sven's shoulder slammed against the window. "Could you drive any more like an idiot?" he hissed, adjusting his rimless glasses. Behind the lenses, his dark eyes flickered—alert, like an animal poised to flee.

"Relax," Lucas said, trying to mask his own nerves. "Five more minutes, and we're there."

"There." Jacob leaned forward and jabbed a finger at the windshield. "Looks like a rotting castle from a Hammer film."

Through the veil of rain and fog, the Ashwood Hotel emerged. The building was a monstrous relic of the past, its gothic gable warped, its towers choked by ivy that snaked like veins across the stone façade. Two stone gryphons flanked the rusted entrance gate, their mouths twisted into silent screams. Somewhere in the distance, a bird screeched—a sharp sound that died abruptly in the void.

Lucas parked the van in the mud, the engine groaning before coughing into silence. For a moment, there was only the patter of rain on the roof.

"Okay, guys," Lucas said, tapping the camera dangling around his neck. "Rule one: Don't touch anything that looks like asbestos. Rule two: Stay in sight at all times. Rule three—"

"Rule three," Jacob interrupted, climbing out, "is you stop sounding like a damn Boy Scout." He flicked his cigarette into a puddle, where it hissed and died.

Natalia followed, her platform boots sinking ankle-deep into the muck. "Shit, my new boots!" she cried, lifting her foot as if injured. "If I get salmonella here, I'm stealing your camera, Lucas."

Sven lingered in the van. Through the rearview mirror, Lucas watched him pull a small wooden box from his backpack, open it, and remove a smooth black stone. He whispered what sounded like a prayer before tucking it into his pocket.

"You okay?" Lucas asked softly.

Sven nodded, but his face was pale. "This place… it's not an echo, understand? It's… alive. And it hates us."

Lucas forced a laugh. "You and your ghost stories. Come on, before the others leave us behind."

The Gate

The gate squealed as Jacob shoved it open, the rusted hinges protesting loudly enough to make Natalia jump. "Jesus, could you all chill?" she snapped, pushing past him.

The garden was a labyrinth of overgrown bushes and toppled statues. A stone woman with broken arms lay in the mud, her face overgrown with moss. Lucas raised his camera and snapped a shot. Click. The flash froze the garden for an instant—shadows darted like rats between the bushes.

"What was that?" Sven asked abruptly. He stood motionless, head tilted.

"What?" Lucas replied.

"That… whispering." Sven's eyes widened. "There. Hear it? Under the wind."

Jacob rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me you're hearing voices already."

But Lucas strained to listen. The wind howled through the hotel's shattered windows, carrying something with it—not just the rustle of leaves. Something almost like a nursery rhyme. Three little angels, fast asleep…

"Nothing," Lucas lied. "Come on, the front door's open."

The Lobby

The smell hit them first—an acrid mix of mold and something sickly-sweet, like decay. Natalia covered her nose. "Ew, smells like Grandma's basement after a flood."

The lobby was a once-opulent space, now a skeleton of rotting wood and peeling wallpaper. A chandelier lay shattered on the floor, its crystals like knocked-out teeth. Portraits hung on the walls, their faces blurred by moisture—eyes swollen into black holes, mouths slackened into grim slits.

"Here," Lucas said, pointing to a yellowed guestbook on the reception desk. The pages stuck together, but one entry was legible: October 14, 1930 – Last Day. She weeps all night. We cannot escape.

"Creepy," Natalia muttered, filming everything with her phone. "This'll get a thousand likes on TikTok."

Jacob kicked a toppled vase, which shattered into dust. "Just dirt and rot. Where's the real shit? The bodies? The ghosts?"

Suddenly, a loud BANG echoed above them—metallic, like someone slamming a pipe.

Everyone froze. Sven gripped Lucas's arm, his fingers icy. "That… came from upstairs."

"Rats," Jacob said, though his voice thinned. "Or the wind."

"Rats don't sound like axes," Natalia hissed. Her face paled beneath her rouge.

Lucas switched on his flashlight. The beam cut through dust swirling like ash in the air. "Then let's check upstairs."

The Stairs

The staircase to the first floor was oak but rotten like papier-mâché. Every step made it groan, as if they were breaking the house's bones. Natalia paused halfway up when a cold draft brushed her neck.

"Hey," she whispered. "Did… did someone just say my name?"

"No," Lucas lied. He'd heard it too—a hissing Nataliaaa whispered from behind them.

Sven, last in line, turned slowly. His flashlight illuminated the lobby below. For a split second, Lucas thought he saw something—a figure vanishing behind a pillar, barefoot, in a white dress.

"We should go back," Sven gasped. "Coming here was a mista—"

A scream tore through the silence. Natalia's eyes flew wide as something cold brushed her ankle. She stumbled backward, but Jacob caught her roughly.

"What?" he barked.

"Th-there was something!" she panted, pointing down the dark hallway behind the stairs. "It touched me!"

Lucas's flashlight trembled as he swept the hall. Nothing. Just shadows. Then—a faint giggle. High, clear, like a child's.

"This isn't funny!" Natalia shrieked, tears of anger in her eyes. "Which one of you idiots is doing this?"

But the others' faces said what they all knew: None of us.

End of Chapter 1

Chapter 2...