The mist was thick enough to drown the world.
Theertha stood still, facing the half-broken iron gate. It squeaked gently in the wind, as if warning her not to enter. But curiosity had already taken control.
She stepped through the gate, boots crunching against the gravel, and looked up at the abandoned colonial mansion ahead.
Vines covered the bricks. The windows were shattered. The house was breathing silence.
Just beside it, a lake shimmered — calm, still, too still. A place untouched by time.
She reached the main door of the house. It wasn't locked.
As she pushed it open, the world behind her seemed to disappear. The light bent. Her heartbeat slowed.
Inside, it was cold… not just in temperature, but in time. The air tasted metallic, like copper left out for a century.
Theertha blinked.
Her jeans and t-shirt were gone.
In their place — a long, deep red princess-style gown flowed down to her feet. The sudden weight of the material pressed the breath out of her lungs. Heavy. Elegant. Wrong.
Her hands trembled. The velvet felt dust-dry and brittle, like the wings of a preserved moth, under her fingers.
"W-what the hell…"
A whisper echoed from the hallway.
> "Dinner is ready, my child…"
>
She turned.
There stood an old woman — pale, frail, but eyes wide open and unblinking. Her lips were red. Blood red. The peeling wallpaper behind her seemed to move backward in the corner of Theertha's eye.
Theertha backed away. "Who are you?!"
The woman smiled… crookedly.
> "You shouldn't have opened the door…"
>
Theertha ran. Room to room. Door to door.
Every door she opened led her back to the same hallway.
Same chandelier.
Same peeling wallpaper.
Same voice whispering behind her.
Trapped.
Finally, she burst through a side door and saw the lake again.
Without a second thought, she ran.
She jumped.
The lake swallowed her.
Silence. Darkness. Cold.
And then…
A whisper in her ear — clear, cruel, familiar:
> "I will never leave you alone again, Theertha…"
>
(End of Chapter 1)