Zane’s POV
The mansion was falling apart, its grip on reality loosening with every passing hour. Walls groaned like the house itself was in pain, while floors shifted, becoming more unstable with each moment. Rooms that had been familiar to me now appeared different, as if they were rearranging themselves just to confuse me. I was used to the mansion’s dark energy, but this was something else entirely. It was as though the house was dying, its soul unraveling, and in the process, it was taking everything—including us—down with it.
I could feel it—the air growing thicker, more oppressive, as if the house was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. But what? The longer I stayed, the clearer it became: the mansion was more than just a place. It was alive, feeding off something.
