Chapter 01

"Continue reading chapters 1 and 2 to start the game."

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Blackwood Creek wasn’t on most maps.

The road leading there narrowed after the third mile, the pavement cracking into thin, jagged lines like veins spreading through dead skin. Trees leaned inward from both sides, their branches tangling overhead and swallowing the last of the evening light. By the time Josh parked the car at the rusted iron gates, the sky had turned a bruised shade of purple.

Mark stared through the windshield.

“Tell me again why we’re doing this?”

Josh grinned, already unbuckling his seatbelt. “Because nobody else has.”

Ray adjusted his glasses and checked the time on his phone. No signal. He expected that. “Technically,” he said calmly, “people have. They just didn’t stay long.”

“That’s not comforting,” Mark muttered.

Beyond the gates stood the mansion.

It rose from the center of a clearing like something that didn’t belong to this world. Three stories tall. Narrow windows. A crooked balcony hanging off the second floor. The wood siding had once been white, but now it was gray and peeling, streaked with dark stains from years of rain.

The locals called it the Blackwood House.

Stories said it had been built over a century ago by a wealthy family that vanished overnight. No bodies. No explanation. Just empty rooms and doors left open.

Josh pushed the car door open.

Cold air rushed in.

Not cool.

Cold.

Like stepping into a freezer.

Mark immediately noticed it too. “Okay. That’s weird. It was warm like five minutes ago.”

Ray stepped out slowly, studying the property. “Temperature drops can happen in wooded areas.”

“Yeah,” Mark replied. “But not like that.”

The iron gate groaned when Josh shoved it open. The sound echoed unnaturally loud, bouncing off the trees and coming back slightly distorted — like something else had repeated it.

They froze.

Silence.

Just wind.

Josh laughed. “Relax. It’s just the gate.”

But even he didn’t fully believe that.

The three of them walked up the stone path. Dead leaves crunched beneath their shoes. The closer they got, the more details appeared: scratches on the front door, deep gouges in the wood. Symbols carved into the stone frame. Not random scratches.

Intentional markings.

Ray stepped closer. “These aren’t vandal marks.”

Mark didn’t ask how he knew.

The front door was slightly open.

Just an inch.

Darkness pooled inside.

Josh placed his hand on it.

“Last chance to back out,” Mark said.

Josh pushed the door open.

It swung inward with a long, low creak.

The air inside smelled old. Damp wood. Dust. And something else — faint and metallic.

The foyer stretched ahead of them. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, tilted at an odd angle. The staircase curved upward, disappearing into shadows. Hallways branched left and right.

The door slammed shut behind them.

All three spun around.

Josh grabbed the handle and pulled.

It didn’t move.

“Okay,” Mark said slowly. “That’s not funny.”

“I didn’t do it,” Josh replied.

Ray tried the lock. “There’s no locking mechanism on this side.”

They looked at each other.

A faint sound drifted from somewhere upstairs.

A thud.

Then another.

Like footsteps.