The door creaks open. Slow. Quiet. Careful.Claire is right behind me—close enough that I can feel her breathe against my neck. LJ stands behind her wielding the dented frying pan like it’s Thor’s hammer. Carter stays wrapped around my shoulder, little fingers digging into my collar.
I brace myself. Expecting teeth, eyes, another shadow creature, possibly. But when the door swings fully open— There’s nothing. Nothing but the dimly lit hallway stretching left and right. Empty. Silent. Still. Too still.
Claire whispers, “Draven…?”
I step across the threshold, slow, deliberate and the second my foot touches the hall carpet—A smell hits me. Not strong. Not obvious. Subtle, but unmistakable if you have a keen sense of smell. Burnt iron. Rotting leaves. Cold stone. Shadow magic. My jaw clenche
