The scream ripped through the empty woods, echoing for barely a second before it was swallowed whole by the torrential downpour of blood rain.

The mansion fell dead silent once more, as if that gut-wrenching cry had been nothing but a hallucination. Every single heart hammered against its cage of ribs. Icy rain slid down foreheads, mixing with cold sweat to soak through the backs of their shirts.

Junior clung to Irene's arm, his knuckles white, his teeth chattering. "Th-that sound... it was one of the people who came in with us, right?"

"Most likely." Leah Carter lowered her camera, her face grave as she flipped through the photos she'd just snapped. "Nothing inside the house shows up. Every window's boarded up tight-only the front door's open."

Eli Walker lifted his gaze toward the mansion. Blood rain streamed down its stone walls, pooling into dark, rust-red puddles at the foundation. The open front door gaped like a black hole, pouring out frigid wind thick with the stench of mildew and blood, cold enough to seep straight into bone.

"We can't stay out here," Eli said, his voice eerily calm. He jerked his chin toward the dark depths of the forest behind them. "Listen."

The group held their breath, shoving down their terror. Beneath the patter of blood rain on the leaves, they heard it: low, inhuman growls, and the sharp crack of snapping branches. The sounds were getting closer, as if some massive, unseen beast was tearing through the darkness, heading straight for them.

"Blackwood Academy doesn't give us safe zones." Eli pulled his gaze back to the group. "There's something in those woods, and our objective is inside. We go in and face what's waiting, or stay out here and get torn apart. We have no choice."

Leah nodded at once, snatching a thick branch from the ground and gripping it like a weapon. "Eli's right. The only way we finish the Trial, earn our credits, and get out alive is to find that will."

Irene held Junior steady, her voice soft but unshakable. "I'm with you. I'll do everything I can to keep us all safe."

Junior glanced between the black, growl-ridden forest and the looming, sinister mansion, finally grinding his teeth and nodding hard. He snatched up a jagged rock and clenched it in his fist. "I-I'm not scared! Let's go!"

Eli took a deep breath, tightened his grip on the folding knife in his pocket, and took the first step toward the mansion's open maw. Icy blood rain hit his face, thick with a metallic tang. He planted each step steady, his eyes locked on the open doorway.

The second they crossed the threshold, a wave of mildew, blood, and rot hit them, thick enough to taste. The foyer was cavernous, with a high ceiling holding a shattered crystal chandelier caked in dust and cobwebs. It swayed in the draft with a high, creaking whine. The red carpet beneath their feet was black with rot, stained with dark, dried splotches, littered with splintered furniture and moldering clothes.

On the far wall hung a massive family portrait. The canvas was yellowed and blackened, crisscrossed with cracks and mold, depicting a family of four. Eli's gaze locked on the painting, and his stomach dropped-every single person in the portrait had their eyes gouged out, leaving nothing but empty black holes that seemed to stare straight down at them.

No matter where they stood, those hollow sockets followed.

"Oh my god..." Junior clapped a hand over his mouth, unable to look any longer, pressing himself tight against Eli's back.

Leah lifted her camera and snapped a photo. The flash fired, and in that split second, Eli's pupils blew wide-he saw it, clear as day: the little girl in the painting, the corner of her mouth twitching up into a sick, twisted smile.

When the flash faded, he stared again. The portrait was exactly as it had been. No smile, no movement. Like it had all been in his head.

"Guys! Over here!" Irene's voice cut through the silence from the left side of the foyer, tight with a barely concealed tremor.

Eli and Leah spun and sprinted over. Pinned to the stone wall with a dozen rusted iron nails was the body of a young girl, her limbs splayed in a crude cross, her neck twisted at an impossible angle. Her eyes had been gouged out, leaving two oozing, bloody sockets, her mouth stretched wide in a silent scream.

Eli recognized her. Megan. A college student who'd entered the Trial with them. She'd sat right next to him in the classroom, whispering if any of this was real.

Now, she never would.

Half an uneaten loaf of bread was still clenched in her hand, stained black with blood. The wristband on her arm was gone.

Irene stepped forward, slipping on disposable gloves to examine the body, and shook her head, her voice heavy. "Been dead at least ten minutes. Cause of death is massive trauma and exsanguination. These nails were driven through from the back, straight into the stone. No human being could have the strength to do this."

Leah lifted her camera, firing off a rapid series of shots. When she glanced down at the screen, her face drained of all color, the device nearly slipping from her grasp.

"What is it?" Eli grabbed her arm to steady her.

Leah held the camera out to him, her voice shaking. "L-look."

Eli took the camera and stared at the screen. The photo showed Megan's body pinned to the wall, but looming behind her was a tall, indistinct black shadow. It had no head, no clear limbs, just a solid mass of frozen darkness, pressed tight against her back.

He flipped through the next photos. The shadow was in every single one. And with each shot, it was moving forward, inch by inch, like it was crawling out of her body.

Eli's blood turned to ice. He lifted his head, staring at the wall behind Megan's body. It was clean. Nothing but rust and blood. No shadow.

That's when they heard it: a soft thudfrom upstairs.

Like someone in heavy boots had taken a single step on the staircase.

Every single person froze, holding their breath, and snapped their heads toward the wooden stairs. The steps were black with rot, the handrail thick with dust and cobwebs, and completely empty.

Thud... thud... thud...

The footsteps grew louder, slow and heavy, descending the stairs one by one. But the staircase stayed empty. The sound echoed right in their ears, as if an invisible person was standing directly in front of them.

Junior shook so hard he nearly collapsed, pressing himself flat against the wall, his eyes locked on the top of the stairs.

Eli tightened his grip on his knife, his gaze pinned to the steps. And he saw it: a bright red, bloody handprint suddenly appeared on the first step.

Then the second. Then the third.

One by one, fresh, dripping handprints snaked down the handrail from the second floor, each one accompanied by the soft, sickening drip, dripof thick blood, loud in the dead silence of the foyer.

"These prints... they weren't here a second ago." Leah's voice shook. The photos she'd taken of the stairs minutes before showed a clean, empty handrail.

Eli's heart hammered against his ribs. They'd just triggered the first death trap.

That's when the mansion's front door slammed open with a deafening crash.

Kane Royce burst through, flanked by his two goons, Tucker and Rex, all of them soaked to the bone. Their faces were twisted with panic and rage, a long gash on Tucker's left arm oozing black blood.

"Goddammit! There's some fucked-up thing in those woods!" Kane spat a mouthful of blood-flecked saliva, his voice a snarl. "Fast as hell. We almost got torn to shreds!"

His gaze landed on Megan's body pinned to the wall, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before it hardened back into rage. When he spotted the loaves of bread and water bottles peeking out of the group's packs, his eyes lit up with greedy hunger.

"Hand over half your food and water." Kane stepped right up to Eli, towering over him. "Or you end up just like the bitch on the wall."

Rex and Tucker closed in at once, daggers drawn, their knuckles white.

Junior scrambled behind Eli, and Irene clutched her first aid kit tight.

Eli lifted his head, staring calmly up at Kane, his voice flat. "I can't do that. This is our only supply for the next 72 hours."

"Then I'll take it by force!" Kane roared, lunging for the pack at Eli's feet.

"Don't." Eli's voice stayed calm, but his eyes turned to ice. "You forgot the rule. No intentional killing of fellow participants. Break it, you lose all your credits. And you get erased."

Kane's hand froze mid-lunge. His face turned purple with rage, then pale-he remembered. He'd seen the brute in the classroom get erased, screaming, right in front of his eyes.

"I ain't gonna kill you." Kane ground his teeth, his voice a vicious snarl. "I just want your supplies."

"Without them, we won't last 72 hours. We'll be dead all the same." Eli held his gaze, every word sharp and unyielding. "That's the same as killing us. The Academy's rules won't let that slide."

Kane stared daggers at Eli, looking like a rabid dog about to snap. Eli didn't flinch. Finally, Kane wrenched his hand away, spitting on the floor.

"Real fucking clever." Kane snarled. "But this ain't over. When we find that will, half the credits are mine. Or I'll make sure you wish you were dead long before the 72 hours are up."

Eli said nothing. He knew better than anyone that picking a fight now would only make things worse. They needed a temporary truce.

"Now we split up to search." Kane jerked his chin at his men, then glared at Eli. "Me and my boys take the second floor. You take the first. You find anything, you tell me. Try to hide something, and you'll never leave this house alive."

With that, he turned and stalked toward the stairs, Tucker and Rex right on his heels.

When they reached the staircase, Kane froze. His eyes locked on the dozens of fresh, dripping blood handprints, his brow furrowing.

"Where the hell did these come from?" Kane snapped.

"Right before you came in," Eli said.

Kane's face turned grim. He drew his dagger, stepped carefully onto the first step, and started up. Tucker and Rex followed, their footsteps fading into the second-floor hallway.

The foyer fell silent again.

Eli let out a quiet breath. "We start searching too. Rule number one: no one goes anywhere alone. You see anything off, you yell. Immediately."

Leah and Irene nodded, and Junior glued himself to Eli's side.

They cleared the first-floor rooms: the living room, kitchen, dining room, study, and a cluttered storage closet. Every room was decayed and trashed, filled with dust and garbage.

In the kitchen, Eli found a brown leather-bound journal tucked inside a rotting oak cabinet. The cover was worn, with neat, delicate handwriting across the front: Emily Black.

Eli flipped it open. The handwriting was childish. It told the story of the horrors in the mansion, and the insane experiments her father, Abraham Black, had conducted.

The final page held only one line of scrawled, smudged writing, as if written through tears: It's in the mirror. Don't look in the mirror.

Eli's stomach dropped.

That's when Junior's scream ripped through the house from the foyer, high and shrill with unhinged terror. "Eli! Get over here! Oh my god, GET OVER HERE!"

Eli, Leah, and Irene sprinted back into the foyer.

Junior was collapsed on the floor, his finger shaking as he pointed at the massive floor-to-ceiling mirror in the center of the room. His face was white as a sheet.

The group followed his gaze, and their blood turned to ice.

In the mirror, a little girl in a white dress stood in the center of the hall, holding a ragged doll, staring back at them with a sick, twisted smile.

And in the empty hall outside the mirror, the space right in front of it?

There was no one there.

The sweeter the little girl's smile in the mirror, the colder the air in the foyer became.

Eli felt a chill shoot straight from his heels to the top of his skull. He grabbed Junior and hauled him behind his back, his grip tightening on the folding knife in his pocket, his eyes locked on the mirror. The little girl couldn't have been more than seven or eight, with golden curls and a deathly pale face, wearing a spotless white dress, holding a ragged doll with one eye missing. She stood in the mirrored hall, separated from them by only a thin sheet of glass, her smile growing wider, more warped, with every passing second.

In the real world, the hall directly in front of the mirror was completely, utterly empty.

"It's... it's the little girl from the painting!" Junior's voice cracked with a sob, his fingers twisted in the back of Eli's shirt. "That's Emily Black!"

Leah lifted her camera and snapped a photo. The flash fired, and the little girl vanished in an instant. When the light faded, the mirror only showed their own reflections, and the empty hall behind them. As if she had never been there at all.

"She's gone..." Irene's voice shook, and she stepped back, pressing herself tight to the group.

Eli's gaze never left the mirror, the line from the journal screaming in his head: It's in the mirror. Don't look in the mirror.

"Everyone, look away from the mirror, now!" Eli barked, his voice sharp and urgent. "Don't stare at it! Don't make eye contact with whatever's in there!"

Leah and Irene snapped their heads away at once, squeezing their eyes shut. Junior clapped both hands over his face, dropping to a crouch, his body shaking like a leaf.

That's when a snarl came from the top of the stairs. "Goddammit, you pussies. A beat-up mirror's got you shaking in your boots?"

Kane stormed down the stairs with Tucker and Rex on his heels, clearly drawn by the screaming. When he saw the massive mirror, he let out a scoffing laugh, completely ignoring Eli's warning.

"Boss, there was a little girl in there. It was messed up," Tucker said quickly, his voice tight with fear.

"Bullshit. It's all in your heads." Kane sneered. He'd run the streets for over a decade, done every brutal thing imaginable, and he didn't believe in ghosts. He stared at the mirror, his eyes hardening with mean-spirited defiance. "I'm gonna see what the hell's in here playing dress-up."

He spun around, hefted a heavy solid wood chair over his head, and hurled it straight at the mirror.

"NO!" Eli yelled, lunging to stop him, but it was too late.

A deafening crash split the air.

The chair slammed into the glass, and the massive mirror shattered into a thousand shards, spraying across the entire foyer floor.

The second the glass broke, a high, cold, childish laugh exploded through the room.

It was everywhere, coming from every direction, burrowing into their ears and making their skin crawl. Then, in every single shard of glass scattered across the floor, the little girl in the white dress appeared. Hundreds of her, in hundreds of shards, all staring back at them with that same twisted smile.

"Shit!" Eli's stomach dropped.

That's when Tucker, standing closest to the broken glass, let out a bloodcurdling scream.

The group spun around. A pale, ice-cold little hand had shot out of a shard of glass at Tucker's feet, clamping down hard on his ankle. Then another, and another-dozens of tiny hands burst from the shards around him, grabbing his arms, his legs, his waist, pinning him to the floor completely immobile.

Tucker thrashed wildly, swinging his dagger at the hands, but the blade sliced right through them like they were thin air.

"BOSS! HELP ME! BOSS!" Tucker screamed, his eyes wide with absolute, terminal terror.

Kane's face went white, and he lunged to help, but it was too late.

The little girl from the mirror crawled out of the largest, unbroken shard of glass. Her body moved like it had no bones, squeezing through the thin sheet of glass, her white dress stained with black, dried blood, her empty eye sockets glowing with sick, red light, her mouth still stretched into that sickly sweet smile.

She stepped slowly toward Tucker, lifting a tiny hand, and pressed it gently to his forehead.

Tucker's scream cut off mid-shriek.

His body shriveled up right in front of their eyes, his skin turning gray and tight against his bones, his eyes sinking deep into his skull, every drop of blood and flesh sucked out of him in the span of three seconds. The 6-foot tall, muscular man collapsed to the floor as a desiccated, mummified husk, dead before he hit the ground.

The wristband on his arm vanished, and the 5 credits on his screen split automatically between Kane and Rex's bands.

The little girl pulled her hand back, turning her empty gaze to the rest of the group, her smile growing wider.

"CLOSE YOUR EYES! EVERYONE, CLOSE YOUR EYES NOW!" Eli yelled, slamming his own eyes shut.

Leah, Irene, and Junior squeezed their eyes shut so tight their faces hurt. Kane and Rex, broken by what they'd just seen, did the same, pressing their backs together, their daggers shaking in their hands.

The foyer fell dead silent, save for their ragged, panicked breathing.

The little girl's laugh started up again, right in their ears, first on their left, then their right, then right behind their necks. Icy breath brushed against their skin, like someone was breathing down their spines, but no one dared open their eyes. No one dared move an inch.

Eli's mind raced.

The journal had said It's in the mirror. Don't look in the mirror.She'd been trapped in the mirror until Kane smashed it, until he looked right at her. She hadn't attacked until they made eye contact. She'd killed Tucker only after he'd stared at her in the glass. And after he died, she hadn't attacked anyone else-she'd just circled them, until they closed their eyes.

Her attacks relied on eye contact.

That was the rule. The spirit could only attack if she locked eyes with you through the mirror. If you didn't look at her, if you didn't make eye contact, she couldn't hurt you.

Eli took a deep breath, forcing his voice steady and sharp. "Everyone listen! The spirit's attack rule is eye contact! As long as we keep our eyes closed, don't look at her, don't lock eyes, she can't hurt us! Do NOT open your eyes!"

The second he finished speaking, the little girl's laugh turned sharp and furious, echoing wildly through the foyer. The icy cold in the room grew thicker, but she never made another move to attack.

The group let out the smallest, shakiest breath, still holding their eyes shut, frozen in place, terrified that one wrong move would end with them like Tucker.

Minutes ticked by. The girl's laugh faded, and the icy cold in the room slowly lifted. The foyer fell silent again, save for their breathing.

After another ten minutes, when Eli was sure the room was completely empty, he spoke in a low, tight voice. "I'm gonna count to three. We open our eyes slow. Remember: do NOT look at the glass on the floor. One. Two. Three."

They all opened their eyes, slow and careful.

The foyer was empty. The little girl was gone. Only the shattered glass across the floor, and Tucker's desiccated body, remained to prove it hadn't been a hallucination.

Rex collapsed to the floor, gasping for air, his face covered in cold sweat, his eyes wide with the terror of someone who'd just barely escaped death. Kane leaned against the wall, his face white as a sheet, his dagger still shaking in his hand, all his earlier arrogance gone.

"Thank you," Leah looked at Eli, her voice thick with leftover terror. "If you hadn't figured that out, we'd all be dead right now."

Eli shook his head, his brow still furrowed. He knew this was only the beginning. There was more than one spirit trapped in this house.

That's when they heard heavy footsteps from upstairs.

Thud... thud... thud...

The footsteps were massive, each one shaking the stairs, as if something unbelievably heavy was walking down toward them. The sound grew closer, thick with the overwhelming stench of blood, heading straight for the foyer.

Every single person froze, holding their breath, and snapped their heads toward the top of the stairs.

Eli's pupils blew wide.

From the shadows at the top of the stairs, a towering, 7-foot-tall shadow stepped slowly into view. He wore a butcher's apron caked in black, dried blood, and in his hand he gripped a massive axe, its blade glinting with cold steel and slick with fresh blood and bits of flesh. His face was crisscrossed with savage scars, and his eyes held nothing human-only cold, murderous rage, locked dead onto every single person in the hall.

The Axe Man dragged his heavy axe down the stairs, one slow step at a time.

The blade scraped against the wooden steps with a high, ear-splitting screech, loud in the dead silence of the house. Every step he took shook the floor beneath their feet, the stench of blood and rot rolling off him in waves, thick enough to choke on.

Eli recognized him instantly. The man from the family portrait. The owner of the mansion. Abraham Black.

"RUN!"

Eli screamed the word on pure instinct, yanking Junior behind him and sprinting down the hall to the right of the foyer. Leah and Irene were right on his heels. Kane and Rex, broken by the sheer murderous rage rolling off the Axe Man, spun and sprinted in the opposite direction, slamming themselves into the first-floor study and locking the door behind them.

The Axe Man let out an earth-shaking roar, swinging his massive axe, and charged after Eli's group.

A deafening crash.

The axe slammed into the marble floor where they'd been standing a split second before, splitting the stone with a deep crack, sending shards flying. If they'd been half a second slower, they'd have been cleaved clean in two.

"This way! The basement!" Leah yelled, pointing at a heavy steel door at the end of the hall.

Eli hauled Junior toward the door, Irene covering their backs, glancing over her shoulder at the approaching Axe Man, her face white. The giant was fast, far faster than someone his size had any right to be, closing the gap between them with every massive step, his heavy footsteps a death march right behind them.

They reached the door, Eli wrenched it open, shoving Junior and Irene inside. He and Leah piled in after him, slamming the steel door shut and sliding the heavy bolt home.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The axe slammed into the door, the impact deafening, the entire steel plate rattling, rust raining down from the frame. The bolt bent and warped with every hit, ready to snap at any second.

The group pressed their backs to the wall opposite the door, gasping for air, their hearts hammering. Junior collapsed to the floor, clutching his chest, on the verge of passing out.

"That was too close... we almost died," Leah gasped, the tree branch in her hand bent almost in two from how hard she was gripping it.

Eli took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down, and flicked on his phone's flashlight. The weak beam cut through the darkness of the basement, and when the group saw what was around them, they all gasped.

The basement was massive, deep and pitch black, the air thick with the stench of formaldehyde and rotting flesh, burning their eyes. Shelves lined every wall, filled with glass jars of every size, each one full of yellow formaldehyde, each one holding a human organ: hearts, livers, kidneys, even entire fetuses.

The organs were gray and floating in the liquid, twisted and wrong in the flashlight beam. The floor was littered with human bones, rusted scalpels and saws, and stained with dark, dried blood that covered every inch of the concrete.

"Oh my god... what the hell did Abraham Black do down here?" Irene clapped a hand over her mouth, fighting back the urge to vomit. She'd worked years as an ER doctor, and she'd never seen anything this horrific.

"He was a madman," Eli's voice was low, his flashlight beam landing on a wooden crate in the corner. He stepped toward it, lifting the lid. It was filled with yellowed photos and documents, the top one a portrait of Abraham Black himself.

The man in the photo was handsome, in a crisp black suit, his eyes deep and thoughtful-nothing like the monstrous, scarred brute with the axe. On the back of the photo, in neat fountain pen ink: April 30th, 1927. 10th wedding anniversary with Isabella.

"I know this story!" Junior blurted out, his voice trembling but firm. "I read about the Blackwood Ridge Murder House in local urban legends when I was a kid! In 1927, there was a massacre here. Abraham Black butchered his wife Isabella, his son, and his daughter with an axe, then hanged himself in the basement."

"Ever since then, the house has been cursed. No one who's ever broken in has come out alive. The legend says Abraham's ghost is trapped here, turned into a monster that only knows how to kill. He hacks apart anyone who steps foot in the house with that axe."

Eli's stomach dropped. No wonder the Axe Man had hunted them without hesitation. From the second they stepped through the door, his only goal was to kill every single one of them.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The axe blows kept coming, harder now. The steel door was dented and cracked, the bolt so warped it was barely holding. The entire basement shook with every hit, dust raining down from the ceiling.

"The door's not gonna hold!" Leah stared at the rattling door, her face grave. "We need another way out, now!"

Eli swept the flashlight beam across the basement, and his eyes locked on a narrow ventilation duct at the far end. The metal grate over the opening was rusted and fallen off, just big enough for one person to crawl through.

"There! The vent!" Eli yelled, pointing at it. "We crawl through, it should lead somewhere else in the house!"

That's when a sharp, sickening crack split the air.

The bolt on the door had been split clean in two by the axe.

The heavy steel door was wrenched open, and the Axe Man's massive frame filled the doorway, his empty eye sockets glowing with blood-red rage, his axe still dripping black blood. He let out another deafening roar, and charged toward them, axe raised high.

"MOVE!" Eli screamed, shoving Junior forward. "You first, go! Now!"

Junior scrambled toward the vent, not hesitating for a second, and dove inside. Irene was right after him. Leah stood at the opening, yelling at Eli. "Eli! Hurry up!"

Eli snatched a thick metal pipe from the floor, hurling it as hard as he could at the charging Axe Man. It slammed into his chest, but he barely even stumbled, only growing angrier, roaring louder as he closed in on Eli.

Eli spun and sprinted for the vent, diving inside. The second he was through, the axe slammed into the concrete where he'd been standing, shearing off half the vent opening, sending concrete shards raining down on his back.

The ventilation duct was narrow and pitch black, filled with dust and cobwebs, only big enough to crawl forward on your stomach. Eli followed right behind Leah, inching forward. Outside the duct, they could hear the Axe Man's enraged roars, the sound of him hacking at the concrete wall, the entire duct shaking with every blow.

"Where are we even going?" Junior whispered from up ahead, his voice thick with tears.

"I don't know," Eli said. "We just keep going until we lose him."

They crawled through the narrow duct for what felt like an eternity, nearly fifteen minutes, before they saw light at the end. The duct opened into another vent grate, looking out into a bedroom on the second floor.

Leah pushed the rusted grate open first, climbing out, then pulled Irene, Junior, and Eli out after her.

They were in a bedroom on the second floor. It was soft and sweet, with pink walls, a pink princess bed, stuffed animals scattered across the floor. It was Emily Black's room. And it was spotless, perfectly preserved, nothing like the rotting, decayed rooms in the rest of the house. As if time had stopped here.

The group collapsed to the floor, gasping for air, dizzy with the relief of having escaped death by a hair.

That's when a bloodcurdling scream came from the room next door.

It was Rex.

The scream cut off mid-shriek, followed by the wet, sickening thud of an axe sinking into flesh, and the crunch of splintering bone.

The group stared at one another, the blood draining from their faces.

"Kane and Rex..." Irene's voice shook.

"He got out of the basement. He found them," Eli's voice was low. He knew that once the Axe Man was done with Kane and Rex, they were next.

That's when they heard heavy footsteps in the hallway outside.

Thud... thud... thud...

The footsteps got closer, and closer, until they stopped right outside the bedroom door.

The air in the room turned to ice.

The group held their breath, staring at the door, too scared to even breathe.

A few seconds later, the axe slammed into the door.

CRASH! CRASH! CRASH!

Wood splinters exploded across the room, the thick wooden door splitting open with gaping holes with every hit. Through the splintered gaps, they could see his bloodshot, murderous eyes staring right back at them.

The door wouldn't hold much longer.