Lilith’s hands trembled as she leaned against the cold stone wall, her pulse pounding in her ears. The oppressive silence in the hallway was nearly as unbearable as the screams she had left behind in the cursed room. She wiped her tear-streaked face with the back of her hand, struggling to steady her breath. The house had twisted Melody’s voice, her image, into a weapon, a dagger aimed at the deepest recesses of Lilith’s heart.

She couldn’t trust anything she saw here—not the rooms, not the voices, not even herself.

The hallway before her stretched endlessly, twisting into the shadows like a snake coiling back into its lair. Every step she took felt wrong, as though the floor beneath her was no longer solid but something much more fluid, shifting under her weight. And yet, she had to keep going. The Mistress’s words still lingered in her mind, poisonous and invasive:

“You were never supposed to return.”

Why? What was it that the house was hiding? Why did it need her here, toying with her mind, bending reality to fit its twisted narrative? The deeper Lilith ventured into the house, the more her memories seemed to bleed together, distorting into something incomprehensible. But there was a part of her that knew the answers were close—just beyond her reach.

She stopped in front of an ornate door, its surface covered in intricate carvings that seemed to shift as she looked at them. Faces twisted in agony, eyes hollow and mouths open in silent screams. Her fingers grazed the door’s handle, cold and slick under her touch.

There was no other way forward.

With a slow, deliberate movement, she opened the door.

Inside was a grand, opulent room—a stark contrast to the decaying corridors she had been walking through. Chandeliers of crystal hung from the ceiling, casting soft light on the polished marble floors. Velvet drapes framed the tall windows, though the view outside was nothing but swirling shadows. The room was eerily pristine, untouched by time or the rot that plagued the rest of the house.

And in the center of the room, sitting at an antique vanity, was a woman.

Lilith’s breath caught in her throat. The woman’s back was to her, but there was something familiar about her, something that sent a jolt of recognition through her veins. Her dark hair was pinned up, and she wore a deep crimson gown, the fabric shimmering in the dim light.

“Hello?” Lilith’s voice was barely a whisper, her nerves on edge.

The woman didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge her at all.

Lilith took a tentative step closer, her eyes scanning the room for any sign of danger. The chandeliers swayed slightly, though there was no breeze. Her heart hammered in her chest as she approached the woman, her footsteps echoing unnervingly in the silence.

“Who are you?” Lilith asked, her voice stronger this time.

Still, the woman remained motionless.

Lilith swallowed hard, her skin prickling with unease. Slowly, she moved to the side of the vanity, her breath catching in her throat as the woman’s reflection came into view.

Her face was beautiful but cold, like a porcelain doll—flawless, yet utterly devoid of life. Her eyes, though wide open, were vacant, as if they stared into a void only she could see. But it wasn’t the woman’s appearance that shook Lilith to her core.

It was the realization that the woman’s face was her own.

Lilith stumbled backward, her mind reeling as she looked between the woman and her reflection in the mirror. They were identical—down to the smallest detail. But where Lilith’s reflection should have mirrored her shock, this woman remained detached, her expression unnervingly serene.

“What is this?” Lilith whispered, her voice trembling.

The woman finally moved. She tilted her head ever so slightly, her lips curling into the faintest of smiles, though her eyes remained hollow.

“You’ve always known,” the woman said, her voice soft but laden with meaning.

Lilith’s stomach turned. The voice was her own, but it was different—colder, darker, filled with an ancient knowledge that seemed to pull at the edges of her sanity.

“No,” Lilith muttered, shaking her head. “This isn’t real. You’re not real.”

The woman—her doppelgänger—stood from the vanity, her movements graceful and slow. She turned to face Lilith fully now, her eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made Lilith’s skin crawl.

“I am as real as you are,” the woman said, taking a step closer. “We are the same, Lilith. We have always been the same.”

Lilith backed away, her heart pounding in her chest. “No, I’m not like you. I’m nothing like you!”

The woman smiled again, but this time, there was something predatory about it. “You can deny it all you want, but the truth is woven into the very fabric of this place. The house—our house—it has always known you.”

Lilith shook her head, fear gnawing at her insides. “What are you talking about? I don’t belong here. I never belonged here!”

The woman’s expression softened, as though she pitied Lilith. “This place is part of you. Don’t you see? The house is not just a thing. It’s alive. It remembers. It knows your fears, your desires… and it will never let you go.”

The weight of her words pressed down on Lilith’s chest, making it hard to breathe. She wanted to run, to escape the room, the house, everything. But something kept her rooted in place—some twisted curiosity, some need to understand the truth she had been running from.

“What are you?” Lilith asked, her voice barely audible.

The woman stepped closer, her presence overwhelming, suffocating. “I am your reflection. Your other half. The part of you that you’ve tried so hard to bury.”

Lilith’s knees felt weak as the room seemed to spin around her. She didn’t know what was real anymore, what was illusion, and what was some twisted version of the truth. But she could feel it—the pull, the connection between herself and the house, growing stronger with every passing second.

“I’m not like you,” Lilith repeated, but the words felt hollow, lacking conviction.

The woman—her reflection—reached out, her cold fingers brushing against Lilith’s cheek. The touch sent a jolt of ice through her veins, freezing her in place. “You will become like me, Lilith. It’s only a matter of time.”

The room seemed to darken as the words hung in the air. The walls pulsed with a faint, rhythmic beat, like the heartbeat of some monstrous thing lurking just out of sight.

Lilith stumbled back, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She couldn’t stay here—couldn’t let herself fall into the trap the house was setting for her. She had to get away, had to find a way to sever whatever twisted bond existed between her and this place.

But as she turned to flee, the woman’s voice echoed behind her, soft and sinister:

“Run all you like, Lilith. You’ll always find your way back. This is where you belong.”

Lilith didn’t look back. She ran, her feet pounding against the marble floor, her breath harsh and uneven. The house seemed to shift around her, the walls warping and twisting as though they were alive, trying to trap her within their confines.

Doors slammed shut as she passed, cutting off any possible exits. The corridors stretched on endlessly, every corner leading to more confusion, more darkness. It was as though the house was a labyrinth, designed to keep her trapped forever.

But then, out of the corner of her eye, Lilith saw something.

A figure, moving silently through the shadows.

She stopped, her heart racing as she strained to see through the darkness. The figure was just a silhouette, barely discernible in the dim light, but it was watching her, waiting.

Lilith took a tentative step forward, her hand trembling as she reached out.

“Who… who are you?” she whispered.

The figure didn’t respond. It simply stood there, a dark, looming presence in the hallway.

And then, slowly, it began to move toward her.

Lilith’s pulse quickened, her body frozen in place as the figure drew closer. There was something off about the way it moved, something unnatural. Its limbs seemed to bend at odd angles, its gait slow and deliberate, as though it were stalking her.

A sudden, overwhelming sense of dread washed over her.

This wasn’t just another trick of the house.

This was something worse.

Something that had been waiting for her all along.

Before she could react, the figure lunged.