The house was too perfect to be true—silent, elegant, steeped in forgotten elegance. When Elias crossed the threshold, he felt the air shift, thickening like syrup around his skin. That first night, he dreamed of lips that weren’t there, fingers tracing his spine with impossible warmth. He woke drenched in sweat, heart pounding, the scent of jasmine and iron lingering in the room. Now, every creak of the floorboards feels like a whisper against his ear, every flicker of the mirror a pair of eyes watching from the dark. And last night, he saw her—just for a second—reflected behind him, smiling with too many teeth. The question isn’t whether he’s losing his mind. It’s why she hasn’t touched him yet… and what happens when she finally does.