Whispers Of The Cursed House

The air was thick with the scent of decay and dust, a heavy blanket that smothered any sound beyond my own ragged breath. I stood in the grand hall of the abandoned mansion, a place whispered about in fearful tones by everyone in town. The colossal door behind me had slammed shut, its echo still ringing in my ears, sealing us inside.

Axel, ever the first to stir, was already sitting up, his eyes sharp and scanning the decrepit room. "Where the hell are we?" he muttered, his voice cutting through the oppressive silence.

Jaxen groaned, rubbing his head, a weak joke already forming on his lips. "Please tell me this is a prank. Ira, if this is some haunted escape room—it's not funny."

My throat felt tight, and the words were a struggle. "This isn't a prank," I managed, the truth a bitter taste.