We carried Ethan between us, his weight uneven, his breath shallow. The veins beneath his skin pulsed faintly, black lines that beat in time with the mansion's rhythm. Every step deeper into the tunnels felt like walking inside a living creature's veins.
The air here was thicker, damp and hot, filled with a low vibration that made the walls tremble. The heartbeat was constant now—slow, deliberate, omnipresent. Each thud rolled through the ground and into our bones.
Maya's voice was a whisper. "How much further?"
I shook my head. "I don't know. But we're close. I can feel it."
The tunnel sloped downward, the walls glistening with moisture. Every few feet, the flesh pulsed and constricted like a throat swallowing. The sound made it hard to think—wet, rhythmic, and almost… intimate.
Ethan stirred weakly between us. "It's… calling," he murmured. His voice was layered again, distorted. "It wants me to see."
"Don't talk," I said, tightening my grip. "You're not listening to it."
He gave a faint laugh—low and wrong. "It's not talking to me. It's through me. You'll hear it soon too."
Maya shot me a look. "He's getting worse."
I nodded grimly. The mansion was no longer trying to scare us—it was trying to use us.
As we moved forward, the walls began to shift. Shapes pushed against the flesh from the inside—faces, hands, torsos pressing outward, mouths moving in silent screams before vanishing again. The sound of their muffled cries mixed with the mansion's heartbeat, creating a horrible symphony.
Maya covered her ears. "It's—oh God—it's people."
I kept my voice steady. "The ones who didn't make it out. The house keeps them here… alive in some way."
The thought made my stomach twist, but we couldn't stop. The tunnel ended at a narrow opening covered by a membrane that pulsed faintly with light. When I touched it, it felt warm and slick, as though it were breathing.
Ethan's eyes snapped open. "It's behind there."
Maya stepped back, shaking her head. "We shouldn't—"
Before she could finish, the membrane split open like a wound, revealing a vast cavern beyond.
The chamber was massive—circular, lined with flesh-covered walls that pulsed in waves. Tendrils hung from above like stalactites, dripping with dark fluid. At the center of the chamber stood a spire of bone and muscle, wrapped in black veins that shimmered with faint crimson light.
At its peak, suspended like a grotesque crown, was a smaller version of the heart we had seen before—beating slowly, radiating waves of heat and sound.
Maya gasped. "It's… it's alive."
I stepped closer, mesmerized despite myself. "This is the core. The real one."
Ethan's head lifted weakly. His eyes were almost completely black now. "It knows you, Arlen. It remembers your fear."
Hearing my name in that voice sent a shiver down my spine. "How does it know that?"
He smiled faintly, blood on his lips. "Because you dreamed of this place long before we came here."
Maya stared at me. "What is he talking about?"
"I don't know," I said quickly. But deep down, something twisted inside me—an old memory stirring, something I didn't want to remember.
The heart pulsed once, harder than before. The shockwave rippled through the chamber, knocking us to our knees. The walls quivered, the faces within them pressing outward, screaming silently.
Ethan cried out, clutching his chest. "It's calling… it's calling!"
Maya held him down, panic flooding her face. "He's burning up—Arlen, what do we do?"
I reached into my pack for anything—water, cloth, anything—but the heat radiating from him was impossible. The veins under his skin glowed faintly red now, matching the rhythm of the core's pulse.
He was bonded to it.
The heart pulsed again, and this time a voice filled the chamber—not spoken aloud, but felt in our minds.
"You came seeking safety. You came offering yourselves. Do not resist what you have always been meant to become."
Maya screamed, pressing her hands over her ears. "Stop it! Stop it!"
Ethan's mouth opened, and the same voice echoed from within him.
"You cannot save him. You can only join him."
"No!" I grabbed his shoulders, shaking him hard. "You're not it! You're still you! Fight it!"
For a heartbeat, Ethan's real voice broke through. "Run… before it takes you too…"
Then the heart pulsed again, and his eyes went black.
He stood, movements sharp, unnatural. The shadows along the floor rippled in response to him. The mansion had chosen its vessel.
Maya stumbled back. "Arlen—what do we do?"
I didn't answer. My pulse thundered in my ears as Ethan took a step toward us, smiling faintly, the heart beating faster behind him.
We were no longer intruders in the mansion's body.
We were inside its mind.
And one of us was no longer human.
Ethan stood before the pulsing heart, his body trembling with each beat. The air shuddered around him—pressure, heat, and something else… something that scraped at the edges of my mind.
He raised his hands slowly, palms outward. "It remembers all of them," he said, voice layered and wrong, as if others spoke through him. "Every scream, every prayer, every bargain made too late."
Maya clutched my arm. "We have to stop this."
I didn't move. I couldn't. The space around us began to shimmer, like water bending light. The walls of flesh faded, replaced by images that flickered in and out—moments from lives that weren't ours.
We stood in a different hall now—still within the mansion, but decades younger. The walls were clean, gold-trimmed, and the chandeliers glowed with candlelight instead of decay. People danced, laughed, and drank wine from crystal glasses. Their faces were bright, joyful… until they weren't.
Ethan's voice echoed through the illusion. "They came seeking immortality. The lord of the house promised them eternity… and he delivered."
The dancers began to change. Skin turned pale, eyes hollowed, laughter twisted into screams. The chandeliers above dripped blood like melting wax. One by one, the guests collapsed, their bodies dissolving into black mist that bled into the walls.
Maya turned away, gagging. "What the hell is this?"
"The memory," I said quietly. "It's showing us how it began."
The image shifted again. We now stood in what looked like a ritual chamber—a younger version of the mansion's core, unfinished and raw. A man stood in the center, his features obscured by shadow. He held a dagger carved from bone, chanting in a language that felt wrong just to hear.
Behind him, the same pulsing heart beat within a glass case, smaller then, but alive even in its infancy.
Ethan stepped closer, his expression distant, reverent. "He called it the Covenant. A bond between flesh and memory. He fed it the living to preserve the dead."
The chanting man drove the dagger into his chest, and the heart responded—its beat deepened, the glass shattered, and tendrils of blood-red light enveloped him.
When the light faded, the man was gone. Only the heart remained, beating faster.
Maya whispered, "So it was born from sacrifice…"
Ethan turned toward us, eyes pitch black. "Not born. Awakened. The house was never built—it grew. From his body. From their fear."
The illusion wavered. The ballroom returned, empty and ruined, the chandeliers long broken. The music still played, faint and warped, like an echo through a tunnel.
I forced myself to move. "We have to find a way to cut that thing out of him before it consumes him completely."
Maya nodded shakily, but Ethan laughed—a low, rumbling sound that came from somewhere deeper than his throat. "You can't separate me from it now. I am the voice that calls you here."
The shadows along the floor began to rise, twisting into human shapes. Faces we'd seen in the walls now formed around us, eyes hollow, mouths sewn shut.
Maya raised her flashlight, its beam cutting through the darkness. "Stay back!"
The figures recoiled, but only for a second. Then they lunged.
I grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the far side of the chamber. The ground beneath us pulsed, slick with blood. Every step felt heavier, as if the mansion itself was trying to drag us down.
We reached a stone platform near the edge of the heart's pit. A set of carved runes glowed faintly beneath the grime. They looked ancient, the same script the man had spoken in the memory.
Maya brushed off the surface, eyes wide. "This—this is some kind of seal. Maybe it's what keeps the heart contained."
Ethan tilted his head, smiling faintly. "It keeps me contained. You shouldn't touch it."
I ignored him and crouched beside the runes. "If it's a seal, maybe we can reverse it. Break the link."
The mansion's heartbeat quickened, angry. The air vibrated so violently that dust rained from the ceiling.
Maya hesitated. "Arlen, if we break it and we're wrong…"
"We're dead anyway," I said.
Ethan's voice deepened, distorted. "You think you can break what was never made by human hands?"
The tendrils from the heart lashed out, smashing against the platform. One of them grazed my arm—it burned, the skin blistering instantly. I shouted, stumbling back.
Maya screamed and pressed her hand to the runes, shouting something I didn't understand—a sound the mansion hated.
The runes flared white.
The heart convulsed. Ethan dropped to his knees, clutching his chest.
For a moment, everything went silent.
Then—BOOM.
The light exploded outward, a shockwave of burning white energy that tore through the chamber. Shadows screamed and dissolved. The heartbeat faltered.
When the light faded, the heart's glow was dimmer. Ethan lay motionless, breathing but unconscious.
Maya collapsed beside him, sobbing. "Did it work?"
I didn't answer. The silence was too heavy, too deliberate.
Then—faint, almost tender—the heartbeat resumed.
Thud. Thud.
But it was slower now. Controlled.
Ethan stirred, his eyes opening weakly. They were human again.
"Arlen…" he whispered. "It's not dead. Just sleeping."
And from the shadows behind him, something vast shifted—like lungs drawing their first breath.