Chapter 4

The sight of the black feather and Chloe's bleeding hand shattered any lingering hope that this was an elaborate game. The fear was real now, a cold, solid thing in the pit of my stomach.

"Okay, the fence is out," Alex said, his voice barely a squeak. "It's definitely out."

"We can't stay out here," Chloe said, wrapping a handkerchief from her pocket around her injured hand. "Whatever that was, it's out here with us. The house is the only other option."

She was right. As terrifying as Blackwood Manor looked, the open, dark yard suddenly felt infinitely more dangerous. At least the house had walls.

We all turned to look at the imposing structure. The front door was a slab of dark, heavy wood with a large, iron knocker in the shape of a snarling wolf's head. It looked like the entrance to a tomb.

"We have to try to get inside," I said. "It's our only chance of finding another way out. A back door, a cellar entrance, anything."

As we started to walk towards the porch, a thought surfaced from the depths of my research. A piece of lore I had filed away for my podcast.

"Wait," I said, stopping the group. "There are stories about this place. About the family who built it, the Blackwoods."

Everyone turned to me, their expressions a mixture of fear and suspicion.

"You know something about this mansion?" Ethan asked, his voice low and accusatory.

The paranoia was back instantly. My knowledge, which I thought might be helpful, had just made me a target.

"How do you know that, Sarah?" Chloe demanded, her eyes narrowing. "You said you came here for content. How much research did you do?"

"It's my job," I said defensively, trying to keep my voice steady. "I research locations for my show. Blackwood Manor is a local legend. I read up on it. That's all."

I could feel their distrust. In their eyes, I had just gone from a fellow victim to a potential accomplice.

"The legend says the Blackwood family practiced some kind of dark rituals," I explained, deciding the only way forward was to share what I knew. "They believed they could trap souls within the property. The story goes that the last of the Blackwoods, a little girl named Lillian, vanished from her room. They say her spirit still roams the grounds, playing games with anyone who trespasses."

A child's giggle. A cold, small touch. It all clicked into place with a horrifying snap.

"They say she's a collector," I added, my own words chilling me to the bone. "That she collects the souls of her playmates."

Britney let out a sob. "So we're being haunted by a ghost kid? And you knew this?"

"I didn't know it was real!" I shot back. "It was just a story, a creepy legend for my podcast. I never believed it. Not until... just now."

My explanation seemed to land, but the suspicion didn't completely fade. The seeds of doubt had been planted.

"So, none of you looked this place up before coming?" I asked, trying to deflect the attention.

Alex shook his head. "I just saw 'haunted experience' and clicked. I didn't even think to Google it. I wanted to be surprised."

"I was busy," Chloe said curtly. "My assistant vetted the invitation. It seemed secure."

Britney just shrugged, tears still streaming down her face. "I just saw the post and thought it would be amazing for my brand."

Ethan and Mark remained silent. They were blank slates, their reasons for being here still shrouded in mystery. Their lack of knowledge, their lack of preparation, it made them vulnerable. It made all of us vulnerable.

We were a group of unprepared strangers, walking into a place that was, according to legend, designed to trap us. And one of us, the one person who had done her homework, was now the prime suspect.

The house loomed before us, waiting. We had no choice but to go in.