CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The Ghost Mansion

Ethan and Amara Wells were among the last survivors of Oakridge Settlement, a once-thriving safe Zone that had fallen overnight to an overwhelming horde. They had fled in the chaos, barely escaping with their lives, and for days, they had wandered through the dense, uncharted woods, exhausted and desperate.

Then, they found it.

A mansion, hidden deep within the forest, its black iron gates slightly ajar, as if it had been waiting for them..

The two of them stared up at the eerie estate, its gothic structure towering against the moonlight. The air around it felt too still, too cold- but it was shelter.

And they needed shelter.

Ethan pushed open the old wooden doors, and the moment they stepped inside, the wind howled behind them, slamming the doors shut.

Amara flinched. "I hate that."

Ethan gave her a small smirk. "Wind, babe. Just Wind."

But even he wasn't convinced.

The massive foyer was covered in dust, with a grand chandelier swaying slightly overhead. Thick cobwebs hung from the ceiling, and the air smelled of old books and something rotten.

Then came the whisper.

Low. Hollow. From nowhere and everywhere.

"You shouldn't be here..."

Amara froze, gripping Ethan's arm. "Tell me you heard that."

He swallowed. "Yeah. I did."

They ventured deeper inside, lighting half-melted candles they found along the way. The house felt massive, endless, as though the corridors changed when they weren't looking.

Then, a shadow moved.

A frail old woman emerged from the darkness, dressed in a long, ragged nightgown. Her silver hair draped over her bony shoulders, her pale, wrinkled face illuminated by the candle she held.

Her voice was dry, brittle. "You came uninvited."

Ethan stepped protectively in front of Amara. "We didn't know this place was occupied."

The old woman tilted her head, her eyes dark and unreadable. "Not occupied. Haunted."

Amara exhaled sharply. "Of course it is."

The old woman turned away. "Come. if you wish to live."

Ethan and Amara hesitated.

The woman let out a sharp laugh. "If the dead outside don't get you... the ones inside will."

That night, they were given a small guest room, and though it was warm and safe, the feeling of dread never left them.

At midnight, it started.

Whispers in the walls. Shadows shifting the door. A child's laughter echoed through the empty halls.

Ethan woke up to scratches on the window, even though they were on the second floor.

Amara woke up to something far worse.

She turned in bed and saw the old woman standing by the door, her eyes completely black.

Then she whispered, "They want you to stay."

The next morning, the old woman acted normal again, as if nothing had happened.

"Breakfast?" she asked sweetly, placing down two bowls of pale porridge.

Ethan eyed her suspiciously. "What... happened last night?"

The old woman sipped her tea. "You were dreaming."

Amara clenched her fists. "That was NOT a dream."

The old woman grinned, revealing teeth far sharper than a normal human's. "Then perhaps you should leave."

Ethan and Amara didn't need another warning.

As they ran toward the front doors, they suddenly found themselves back in the grand foyer- but the doors were gone.

Only a solid wall stood where the entrance had been.

Amara screamed, "We're TRAPPED!"

The old woman's laughter echoed. "The house decides if you leave."

Ethan grabbed a rusted fireplace poker and smashed the window, only to see a massive void of darkness outside.

The world beyond the house... was gone.

"They turned and saw the old woman watching them with amusement

"Play the game. Or stay forever."