Night covered the city.
Isabel was asleep in her small apartment. Outside, everything was quiet except for a few cars passing far away. The calm felt a little strange, like something was off.
Then she heard a noise.
Her eyes opened fast. Her heart was already beating too quickly.
"What…?" she whispered.
Another sound came from the living room downstairs. She pushed herself up, trying to hear better.
"Hello?" she called, her voice low and unsure.
No reply.
She got out of bed and walked toward the stairs. Her hand slid along the cold wall as she went. The darkness below felt heavier than usual, like it was waiting for something.
There was a smell in the air. Metallic.
Before she understood what was happening, her foot slipped. She fell hard onto the floor. Pain shot through her palms and knees. When she lifted her hands, they were covered in something warm and sticky.
Blood.
Her chest tightened. She couldn't move. Her legs felt frozen. Slowly, she lifted her head.
Someone was sitting in the far corner of the room. Small. Still.
A little girl.
Isabel held her breath. The child didn't move. Isabel took one step closer.
"Who are you?" she asked quietly.
The girl tilted her head. Her eyes were red. Her face was smeared with blood, and she was holding raw flesh in her hands, chewing on it like it was normal food.
Isabel's stomach turned. This wasn't a regular child. This was something else.
"No… this isn't real," she whispered. "Please… stop."
She tried to step back and tripped over something on the floor. She hit the ground again. When she looked up, her parents were lying in front of her — lifeless, just like the night she tried so hard to forget.
"Mom? Dad?" Her voice cracked. But she already knew the answer.
She screamed.
And then she woke up, gasping. Her chest burned.
She wasn't in her apartment.
She was on a train.
No blood. No bodies. Just the dim light above her and the steady sound of the train on the tracks.
She leaned back and tried to breathe slowly.
"It was just a dream," she said, even though she didn't believe herself.
The train slowed down and finally stopped.
Isabel stepped out onto the empty platform. The cold night air brushed against her skin. She pulled her suitcase closer and checked her phone.
11:47 p.m.
Almost midnight.
The station was silent. Too silent. It made her feel uneasy.
There was only one taxi parked under a tree, so she walked toward it.
"Are you going to Vesper?" she asked.
The driver looked at her, and his face changed immediately. He looked tense — almost scared.
"No," he said fast. Then he shut the door and drove away.
Isabel stared after him. "What was that?"
Now there were no taxis. No cars. No station staff. Nothing.
Just her.
"Miss?"
She turned and saw a man standing a short distance away.
"You're going into town?" he asked.
"Yes," she said.
"We're heading there. We can give you a ride if you want."
Before she could answer, a teenage girl stepped beside him.
"Dad, why are you still standing here? It's late."
The man nodded toward Isabel. "She's going into town."
The girl — looked at Isabel, then gently took her wrist.
"Come on. You won't get another taxi now. And there's no hotel nearby. We're going the same way."
Isabel hesitated.
Strangers. A new place. Almost midnight. Not great.
But the platform was completely empty. No options left.
The man kept some distance and didn't act strange. And it was just a father and daughter, not a group of men, so she felt a bit safer.
Jenny lifted Isabel's heavy suitcase and put it in the trunk like it weighed nothing.
Isabel took a slow breath. She didn't trust them, but she had no choice.
She got in the back seat.
The streets were dark as the car moved. Only the soft hum of the engine filled the car.
"Don't mind her," the man said. "She doesn't notice how strong she is sometimes."
Isabel gave a small tired smile. "I'm a college professor. I'm used to kids."
Jenny turned around. "Kids? I'm eighteen."
The man — laughed. "Yes, yes. You're grown up."
He glanced at Isabel in the mirror. "I'm Jack, and this is my daughter Jenny."
"Isabel," she said.
Jenny tilted her head. "So, Isabel… why are you going to Vesper?"
"There's a new college opening. I got a teaching job there."
"What were you doing before?" Jack asked.
"I taught in Lumos City."
"So why leave it?"
Isabel looked out the window. "I wanted something quieter. That city gets overwhelming. Sometimes you can't breathe there."
Even she wasn't sure if that was the real reason.
"Do you live in Vesper?" she asked.
"Not anymore," Jack said. "But it's my hometown. I'm taking Jenny back for some health stuff."
Isabel nodded. The ride continued. The roads got narrower, and old buildings leaned toward the street, casting long shadows.
Somewhere far away, a howl echoed through the night.
Jenny stuck her head out the window and howled back.
"Jenny," Jack said calmly.
She laughed and sat back inside.
Isabel watched them. Something about them felt unusual, but she couldn't figure out what it was.
After a few minutes, Jack slowed down. "Where are you staying?"
Isabel pulled the letter from her bag and handed it to him. "This is the address."
Jack read it. Something in his expression shifted — worry, maybe. Or surprise.
"Is something wrong?" Isabel asked.
"No," Jack said too quickly. "Nothing. It's just up ahead."
He stopped the car near the bottom of a small hill.
"We can't drive further."
Isabel stepped out and looked up.
Her breath caught.
It wasn't a house. It was a mansion — tall, dark, no lights anywhere. Vines covered the stone walls. The iron gate creaked in the wind. It looked old and abandoned. Definitely not normal staff housing.
"Thank you," she said softly.
"Good night, Professor," Jack said.
"See you around!" Jenny called as she leaned out the window.
The car drove off, leaving Isabel alone.
She walked toward the fountain near the entrance. As she passed it, she thought she saw someone standing behind her in the reflection. She turned around fast.
No one. Only the wind.
"This is just a new town," she whispered to herself.
She pushed the iron gate open. It groaned loudly.
Inside, the huge old doors was slightly open. It moved slowly, like someone had just pushed it. Beyond it, she saw nothing but darkness — thick and deep.
The air smelled old, untouched for years. The silence felt heavy.
Something was inside, waiting.