Lilith woke with a start, gasping for air as if she had been suffocating in her sleep. Her heart raced, pounding against her ribcage, and her skin was slick with cold sweat. The world around her was pitch black, the oppressive darkness so thick it felt tangible, like a living thing pressing in on her from all sides.

For a moment, she couldn’t remember where she was—only the suffocating sensation of being watched, of something lurking just beyond the edge of her vision. Then it all came flooding back: the house, the Mistress, the growing sense of dread that had followed her like a shadow.

She blinked, trying to adjust to the darkness, but it was impenetrable. There was no sound, no wind, no whispers. Only silence—deep, unnerving silence that made her pulse quicken with a fresh surge of fear.

Where was she?

Her fingers brushed against the cold floor beneath her, rough and uneven, as though it had been carved from stone. The air was damp, heavy with the scent of mildew and something else—something faintly metallic, like the lingering scent of blood.

She pushed herself to her feet, her muscles aching, and reached out blindly into the dark, searching for anything to orient herself. Her hand grazed something solid and cold, the rough texture of stone walls. She was in a room—a small, confined space—but how had she gotten here?

Lilith’s breath came in short, panicked gasps as she ran her fingers along the wall, desperate to find an exit. But the walls were solid, unyielding, and there was no sign of a door. The realization hit her like a punch to the gut: she was trapped.

A soft sound broke the silence—just a whisper of movement, so faint she wasn’t sure if she had imagined it. She froze, straining to listen, but the sound was gone. Her heart hammered in her chest as the darkness seemed to press closer, suffocating her with its oppressive weight.

"Is someone there?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

Silence.

Then, faintly, from somewhere deep within the blackness, came a low, rhythmic sound. It was distant at first, barely audible, but it grew louder with each passing moment—the unmistakable sound of something scraping against stone. The rhythm was slow and deliberate, as though whatever was making the noise was in no hurry.

Lilith’s throat tightened, her breath catching in her chest. She pressed her back against the wall, every muscle in her body tensed as the sound grew louder, closer. It was coming toward her—she could feel it. The steady scrape of something heavy being dragged across the floor.

She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Her body was frozen with fear as the sound echoed in the darkness, louder and louder until it was all she could hear. The air grew colder, and with it came a sickening sensation, like icy fingers trailing down her spine.

Then, as abruptly as it had started, the scraping stopped.

The silence that followed was deafening, a suffocating void that made Lilith’s skin crawl. Her pulse raced in her ears, her mind spinning with fear and confusion. She opened her mouth to call out again, but the words stuck in her throat, choked by the overwhelming sense of dread that filled the air.

The darkness seemed to thrum with life, as if it was waiting—anticipating. And then, from the depths of the blackness, a voice spoke.

"Lilith."

It was a whisper, barely audible, but it sent a jolt of terror through her body. The voice was soft, feminine, and filled with a chilling familiarity. She knew that voice.

The Mistress.

Lilith’s knees buckled, her body trembling as the name echoed in the dark. She tried to move, to run, but her limbs were leaden, her body unresponsive. The cold seeped into her bones, freezing her in place as the voice called her name again, this time closer.

"You cannot hide from me."

The sound of the Mistress’s voice was like ice, sharp and cruel, cutting through the air with chilling clarity. Lilith squeezed her eyes shut, praying that this was some horrible nightmare, that she would wake up and find herself far away from this cursed place. But the cold stone beneath her fingers, the oppressive darkness, the voice—it was all real. Too real.

The scraping sound resumed, slow and deliberate, and this time Lilith could hear the faintest hint of something wet dragging across the floor, as though whatever was moving was leaving a trail behind it. Her stomach twisted with nausea, her breath coming in shallow, panicked gasps.

"You think you can escape?" the Mistress hissed, her voice dripping with venom. "You think you can defy me?"

The sound was closer now, much closer, and Lilith could almost feel the cold breath of the Mistress on the back of her neck. The air grew impossibly thick, and a foul stench filled the room—decay, rot, the unmistakable scent of death.

"I will find you."

Something brushed against Lilith’s leg—something cold and wet. She flinched, biting down a scream, her heart racing wildly in her chest. She could feel it now, whatever was dragging itself toward her, closing the distance, inching closer with each passing second.

And then, through the thick veil of darkness, Lilith felt it—a cold, clammy hand wrapping around her ankle.

She screamed, finally breaking free of the paralysis that had held her captive. Her body jolted into action, and she kicked wildly, pulling herself away from the icy grip. Her hand frantically searched the stone wall for a way out, her fingers scraping against the rough surface in desperation.

"Lilith," the voice crooned, closer now, as though it were right beside her ear. "You belong to me."

Her heart thundered in her chest, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she scrambled away, her feet slipping on the cold stone floor. She could feel the presence behind her, closing in, the cold air wrapping around her like a shroud.

Her hand finally brushed against something—a crack in the stone. With a surge of adrenaline, she pushed against it, her fingers digging into the gap. The wall gave way, just slightly, but enough for her to squeeze through.

Without thinking, she threw herself into the narrow opening, her body scraping against the rough stone as she forced her way through. The darkness on the other side was just as thick, but she didn’t care. She had to get away—away from the voice, the cold hands, the thing that was dragging itself toward her.

She stumbled forward, her hands outstretched, feeling her way through the blackness. The air here was colder, the walls damp and slick with moisture. The ground beneath her feet was uneven, as though she were walking on crumbling stone. But she kept moving, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her pulse racing with terror.

The voice of the Mistress faded behind her, replaced by the sound of her own frantic footsteps. But the sense of dread lingered, a heavy weight pressing down on her chest, suffocating her with its intensity.

And then, without warning, the ground beneath her gave way.

Lilith screamed as she plummeted into the darkness, her body tumbling through the air, the sensation of falling disorienting and terrifying. Her mind spun, the cold air rushing past her, and then—

Impact.

She hit the ground hard, the force knocking the wind from her lungs. Pain shot through her body, but she didn’t have time to register it. She was lying on something cold and wet—something that shifted beneath her weight.

She pushed herself up, her hands sinking into the cold, soft surface beneath her. And then she realized—she wasn’t lying on stone.

She was lying on bodies.

Lilith recoiled in horror, scrambling to her feet as the realization set in. The ground was littered with corpses, their cold, lifeless forms piled on top of one another, their skin slick with decay. The stench was overpowering, a sickening mixture of rot and blood.

Her breath hitched in her throat, her mind reeling with terror. She backed away, her foot catching on something soft, and she stumbled, falling to her knees.

And then, out of the darkness, came the sound of something moving.

Something was down here with her.

The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as the sound grew louder, closer. A soft, wet slithering sound, like something dragging itself across the corpses.

Lilith’s body trembled with fear, her breath coming in shallow, panicked gasps. She knew she had to run, but her legs wouldn’t move. She was frozen, paralyzed by the overwhelming sense of dread that filled the air.

And then she saw it.

A figure, barely visible in the darkness, rising from the pile of bodies.

It was tall, its limbs elongated and grotesque, its skin pale and slick with blood. Its eyes glowed faintly in the darkness, two pinpricks of light that burned with malevolent intent.

It smiled.

And Lilith knew, in that moment, that there was no escape.