Elara stepped out of the carved door. Sunlight brushed her face, warm and real… but the mansion didn't feel safe. The air was heavy, almost alive, and the walls seemed to pulse subtly, like the house was breathing.
The corridor stretched endlessly before her. Doors lined the walls, some open, some closed. Faint whispers floated from behind them not just hers this time, but many voices, many memories she couldn't place.
Her chest tightened. "Who's still here?" she whispered.
The other Elara appeared beside her, shadowed but solid. "The ones trapped. The fragments of people the door has stolen. The mansion… it feeds on them. And now it watches you."
As they walked, the floorboards creaked unnaturally, bending slightly under each step. A door swung open ahead on its own. A figure crouched inside pale, hollow-eyed, her hands pressed against the frame.
Elara froze. The figure looked exactly like her… but older, twisted, and angry.
"You… left me again," it hissed. Its voice echoed like broken glass.
Elara stepped back, heart racing. "I… I didn't know! I remember now!"
The figure lunged, and Elara barely dodged. More shadows emerged from the other doors, pale hands stretching, mouths opening in silent screams. The mansion shifted around her the walls curling, doors appearing where they hadn't been, corridors bending impossibly.
She realized the mansion wasn't static. It could move, reshape itself, trap her, confuse her. Every step had to be careful.
"Stay close to me!" the other Elara shouted. "We need to find the center… the heart of the mansion. That's where the door began that's where it can be stopped!"
Elara nodded, gripping her memories like armor. They moved forward cautiously, doors slamming shut behind them, trapping fragments of shadows inside. Pale faces peered from cracks in the walls, whispering her name.
A hallway stretched before them that hadn't existed moments ago. It smelled of wet soil and old flowers, like the hidden room from the beginning. The air thickened. She could feel the presence of every lost version, all waiting, all watching.
Suddenly, a cold hand grabbed her shoulder. She spun the hand belonged to a mirror-version of herself, hollow-eyed, whispering:
"You think you are free… but the mansion remembers… it remembers you…"
Elara's heart pounded. She realized the mansion wasn't just haunted. It was alive. It fed on memory, on fear, on her. And if she didn't reach the center, she might never escape.
The hallway ahead stretched endlessly, doors opening like jaws. The whispers rose into screams.
Elara swallowed hard, gripping the other Elara's arm. "Let's go. Whatever it wants, we'll face it."
The mansion pulsed around them, alive, hungry… waiting.