As Vincent turned on every lamp, illuminating the peeling paint and worn furniture, he felt a cold gust sweep through the room, knocking over a forgotten vase, shattering it into shards. Lila flinched, and Vincent quickly knelt to clean up the mess, but he sensed it—the air had changed.

Vincent felt a profound sense of dread seep into his bones. Hours passed, or maybe minutes—it was hard to tell in the oppressive gloom—but suddenly, a noise shattered the stillness: a faint tapping, like fingernails against wood. Heart racing, Vincent shot up, scanning the surroundings.

Lila whispered, clutching his arm tightly : " Did you hear that? " 

Vincent nodded and said : " stay here "

Vincent is come to a door at the end of the hallway, one that had always remained closed. It felt wrong. All instincts screamed for him to turn back. But then, with a surge of protective instinct overriding fear, he reached for the knob.

The door swung open with an eerie creak, revealing pitch darkness—a void that seemed to pull at his very essence.