Episode 2: The Locked Box
The morning light was dull and gray when Aarav woke up. The night's events still haunted his mind — the knocks in the wall, the cracking mirror, and that brief glimpse of the girl in white. For a moment, he wondered if it had been a dream. But the crack in the mirror was still there, jagged and fresh.
He brewed himself a cup of coffee using a rusty old kettle in the kitchen, trying to shake off the unease. The house groaned around him with every gust of wind, like it was breathing.
He couldn't stop thinking about the locked wooden box he had found on the fireplace mantle. The symbols carved into its surface were unlike anything he had seen — geometric, ancient, possibly runic. As he examined it again in the daylight, he noticed something new: a faint bloodstain on the corner. Dried. Old.
"You're hiding something," Aarav muttered.
He tried using a paperclip and knife to pick the lock, but nothing worked. Then he remembered the drawer in the study downstairs — maybe there was something useful there.
In the study, he found several drawers stuck shut, covered in dust and cobwebs. One finally opened after a hard pull. Inside was a rusted key, strange in shape — like it wasn't meant for any modern lock. It was cold to the touch, unnaturally cold.
As he held the key near the box, a breeze blew through the shut windows.
"Of course," he whispered. "Of course that happens."
He fit the key in. It clicked.
The box opened slowly, and inside was a folded letter, yellow with age. The wax seal bore a symbol — an eye surrounded by thorns. His heart pounded.
The letter read:
_"To the one who returns,
You are the key. The house remembers. The curse endures until the ritual is completed.
Beware the girl in white._
— A.B."
Aarav's hands trembled. A.B. — Ambrose Blackthorn?
He looked again inside the box. Beneath the letter was a small silver pendant, shaped like an eye. As soon as he touched it, the candle in the room flared to life — on its own.
Then, from behind, a soft, icy voice whispered:
"You shouldn't have opened it…"
He turned, but no one was there.
Only the sound of footsteps upstairs.
Aarav followed the sound, heart pounding, gripping the pendant like a weapon. The footsteps stopped outside the attic door. It was locked.
He turned to go back down… and saw her.
The girl in white, standing silently at the end of the hallway. Her long black hair hung limp, her face obscured. But this time, she raised her hand — pointing at him.
The hallway behind him stretched unnaturally long. The shadows deepened.
And then — she vanished.
That night, Aarav couldn't sleep. He placed the box, the letter, and the pendant on the desk beside him, lit three candles, and opened his laptop to start documenting everything. If he was going to lose his mind, he at least wanted evidence.
He typed the first line of his journal:
"Day 1 — Blackthorn Manor is not empty. I'm not alone."