Chapter 4 The First Death in the Murder House

The scream ripped through the empty woods, echoing for barely a second before it was swallowed whole by the torrential downpour of blood rain.

The mansion fell dead silent once more, as if that gut-wrenching cry had been nothing but a hallucination. Every single heart hammered against its cage of ribs. Icy rain slid down foreheads, mixing with cold sweat to soak through the backs of their shirts.

Junior clung to Irene's arm, his knuckles white, his teeth chattering. "Th-that sound... it was one of the people who came in with us, right?"

"Most likely." Leah Carter lowered her camera, her face grave as she flipped through the photos she'd just snapped. "Nothing inside the house shows up. Every window's boarded up tight-only the front door's open."

Eli Walker lifted his gaze toward the mansion. Blood rain streamed down its stone walls, pooling into dark, rust-red puddles at the foundation. The open front door gaped like a black hole, pouring out frigid wind thick with the stench of mildew and blood, cold enough to seep straight into bone.

"We can't stay out here," Eli said, his voice eerily calm. He jerked his chin toward the dark depths of the forest behind them. "Listen."

The group held their breath, shoving down their terror. Beneath the patter of blood rain on the leaves, they heard it: low, inhuman growls, and the sharp crack of snapping branches. The sounds were getting closer, as if some massive, unseen beast was tearing through the darkness, heading straight for them.

"Blackwood Academy doesn't give us safe zones." Eli pulled his gaze back to the group. "There's something in those woods, and our objective is inside. We go in and face what's waiting, or stay out here and get torn apart. We have no choice."

Leah nodded at once, snatching a thick branch from the ground and gripping it like a weapon. "Eli's right. The only way we finish the Trial, earn our credits, and get out alive is to find that will."

Irene held Junior steady, her voice soft but unshakable. "I'm with you. I'll do everything I can to keep us all safe."

Junior glanced between the black, growl-ridden forest and the looming, sinister mansion, finally grinding his teeth and nodding hard. He snatched up a jagged rock and clenched it in his fist. "I-I'm not scared! Let's go!"

Eli took a deep breath, tightened his grip on the folding knife in his pocket, and took the first step toward the mansion's open maw. Icy blood rain hit his face, thick with a metallic tang. He planted each step steady, his eyes locked on the open doorway.

The second they crossed the threshold, a wave of mildew, blood, and rot hit them, thick enough to taste. The foyer was cavernous, with a high ceiling holding a shattered crystal chandelier caked in dust and cobwebs. It swayed in the draft with a high, creaking whine. The red carpet beneath their feet was black with rot, stained with dark, dried splotches, littered with splintered furniture and moldering clothes.

On the far wall hung a massive family portrait. The canvas was yellowed and blackened, crisscrossed with cracks and mold, depicting a family of four. Eli's gaze locked on the painting, and his stomach dropped-every single person in the portrait had their eyes gouged out, leaving nothing but empty black holes that seemed to stare straight down at them.

No matter where they stood, those hollow sockets followed.

"Oh my god..." Junior clapped a hand over his mouth, unable to look any longer, pressing himself tight against Eli's back.

Leah lifted her camera and snapped a photo. The flash fired, and in that split second, Eli's pupils blew wide-he saw it, clear as day: the little girl in the painting, the corner of her mouth twitching up into a sick, twisted smile.

When the flash faded, he stared again. The portrait was exactly as it had been. No smile, no movement. Like it had all been in his head.

"Guys! Over here!" Irene's voice cut through the silence from the left side of the foyer, tight with a barely concealed tremor.

Eli and Leah spun and sprinted over. Pinned to the stone wall with a dozen rusted iron nails was the body of a young girl, her limbs splayed in a crude cross, her neck twisted at an impossible angle. Her eyes had been gouged out, leaving two oozing, bloody sockets, her mouth stretched wide in a silent scream.

Eli recognized her. Megan. A college student who'd entered the Trial with them. She'd sat right next to him in the classroom, whispering if any of this was real.

Now, she never would.

Half an uneaten loaf of bread was still clenched in her hand, stained black with blood. The wristband on her arm was gone.

Irene stepped forward, slipping on disposable gloves to examine the body, and shook her head, her voice heavy. "Been dead at least ten minutes. Cause of death is massive trauma and exsanguination. These nails were driven through from the back, straight into the stone. No human being could have the strength to do this."

Leah lifted her camera, firing off a rapid series of shots. When she glanced down at the screen, her face drained of all color, the device nearly slipping from her grasp.

"What is it?" Eli grabbed her arm to steady her.

Leah held the camera out to him, her voice shaking. "L-look."

Eli took the camera and stared at the screen. The photo showed Megan's body pinned to the wall, but looming behind her was a tall, indistinct black shadow. It had no head, no clear limbs, just a solid mass of frozen darkness, pressed tight against her back.

He flipped through the next photos. The shadow was in every single one. And with each shot, it was moving forward, inch by inch, like it was crawling out of her body.

Eli's blood turned to ice. He lifted his head, staring at the wall behind Megan's body. It was clean. Nothing but rust and blood. No shadow.

That's when they heard it: a soft thudfrom upstairs.

Like someone in heavy boots had taken a single step on the staircase.

Every single person froze, holding their breath, and snapped their heads toward the wooden stairs. The steps were black with rot, the handrail thick with dust and cobwebs, and completely empty.

Thud... thud... thud...

The footsteps grew louder, slow and heavy, descending the stairs one by one. But the staircase stayed empty. The sound echoed right in their ears, as if an invisible person was standing directly in front of them.

Junior shook so hard he nearly collapsed, pressing himself flat against the wall, his eyes locked on the top of the stairs.

Eli tightened his grip on his knife, his gaze pinned to the steps. And he saw it: a bright red, bloody handprint suddenly appeared on the first step.

Then the second. Then the third.

One by one, fresh, dripping handprints snaked down the handrail from the second floor, each one accompanied by the soft, sickening drip, dripof thick blood, loud in the dead silence of the foyer.

"These prints... they weren't here a second ago." Leah's voice shook. The photos she'd taken of the stairs minutes before showed a clean, empty handrail.

Eli's heart hammered against his ribs. They'd just triggered the first death trap.

That's when the mansion's front door slammed open with a deafening crash.

Kane Royce burst through, flanked by his two goons, Tucker and Rex, all of them soaked to the bone. Their faces were twisted with panic and rage, a long gash on Tucker's left arm oozing black blood.

"Goddammit! There's some fucked-up thing in those woods!" Kane spat a mouthful of blood-flecked saliva, his voice a snarl. "Fast as hell. We almost got torn to shreds!"

His gaze landed on Megan's body pinned to the wall, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before it hardened back into rage. When he spotted the loaves of bread and water bottles peeking out of the group's packs, his eyes lit up with greedy hunger.

"Hand over half your food and water." Kane stepped right up to Eli, towering over him. "Or you end up just like the bitch on the wall."

Rex and Tucker closed in at once, daggers drawn, their knuckles white.

Junior scrambled behind Eli, and Irene clutched her first aid kit tight.

Eli lifted his head, staring calmly up at Kane, his voice flat. "I can't do that. This is our only supply for the next 72 hours."

"Then I'll take it by force!" Kane roared, lunging for the pack at Eli's feet.

"Don't." Eli's voice stayed calm, but his eyes turned to ice. "You forgot the rule. No intentional killing of fellow participants. Break it, you lose all your credits. And you get erased."

Kane's hand froze mid-lunge. His face turned purple with rage, then pale-he remembered. He'd seen the brute in the classroom get erased, screaming, right in front of his eyes.

"I ain't gonna kill you." Kane ground his teeth, his voice a vicious snarl. "I just want your supplies."

"Without them, we won't last 72 hours. We'll be dead all the same." Eli held his gaze, every word sharp and unyielding. "That's the same as killing us. The Academy's rules won't let that slide."

Kane stared daggers at Eli, looking like a rabid dog about to snap. Eli didn't flinch. Finally, Kane wrenched his hand away, spitting on the floor.

"Real fucking clever." Kane snarled. "But this ain't over. When we find that will, half the credits are mine. Or I'll make sure you wish you were dead long before the 72 hours are up."

Eli said nothing. He knew better than anyone that picking a fight now would only make things worse. They needed a temporary truce.

"Now we split up to search." Kane jerked his chin at his men, then glared at Eli. "Me and my boys take the second floor. You take the first. You find anything, you tell me. Try to hide something, and you'll never leave this house alive."

With that, he turned and stalked toward the stairs, Tucker and Rex right on his heels.

When they reached the staircase, Kane froze. His eyes locked on the dozens of fresh, dripping blood handprints, his brow furrowing.

"Where the hell did these come from?" Kane snapped.

"Right before you came in," Eli said.

Kane's face turned grim. He drew his dagger, stepped carefully onto the first step, and started up. Tucker and Rex followed, their footsteps fading into the second-floor hallway.

The foyer fell silent again.

Eli let out a quiet breath. "We start searching too. Rule number one: no one goes anywhere alone. You see anything off, you yell. Immediately."

Leah and Irene nodded, and Junior glued himself to Eli's side.

They cleared the first-floor rooms: the living room, kitchen, dining room, study, and a cluttered storage closet. Every room was decayed and trashed, filled with dust and garbage.

In the kitchen, Eli found a brown leather-bound journal tucked inside a rotting oak cabinet. The cover was worn, with neat, delicate handwriting across the front: Emily Black.

Eli flipped it open. The handwriting was childish. It told the story of the horrors in the mansion, and the insane experiments her father, Abraham Black, had conducted.

The final page held only one line of scrawled, smudged writing, as if written through tears: It's in the mirror. Don't look in the mirror.

Eli's stomach dropped.

That's when Junior's scream ripped through the house from the foyer, high and shrill with unhinged terror. "Eli! Get over here! Oh my god, GET OVER HERE!"

Eli, Leah, and Irene sprinted back into the foyer.

Junior was collapsed on the floor, his finger shaking as he pointed at the massive floor-to-ceiling mirror in the center of the room. His face was white as a sheet.

The group followed his gaze, and their blood turned to ice.

In the mirror, a little girl in a white dress stood in the center of the hall, holding a ragged doll, staring back at them with a sick, twisted smile.

And in the empty hall outside the mirror, the space right in front of it?

There was no one there.