The rain hit the windshield in thick, angry drops as the car crawled up the narrow road. Elora sat in the back, arms around herself, watching the trees blur into shadows. Her reflection in the glass looked paler than usual. She hadn't slept not since that night.
Clara was in the passenger seat, scrolling through her phone. "It's trending now," she said flatly. "The video's everywhere."
Emmanuel gripped the wheel tighter. "We shouldn't have gone there. We shouldn't have filmed it."
"But we did," Clara whispered. "And it saw us."
Silence pressed into the car like fog.
They had gone into the abandoned chapel as a dare one of those "explore it at night" urban legends. Only this one didn't end in laughter or fake jump-scares. This one ended with a door slamming shut behind them… and something breathing in the dark.
It hadn't spoken. It hadn't moved. But they felt it.
And then Emmanuel made the mistake of asking it something.
"If you're here… follow us. Show us you're real."
They didn't hear an answer.
Not then.
When they pulled into Elora's driveway, the lights in the house flickered. Just once. But long enough for Clara to go still.
"Elora…" she said slowly, "do you still live alone?"
Elora's throat tightened.
"Yeah. Why?"
Clara didn't answer. She just stared through the rain-streaked windshield, into the darkened upstairs window of the house.
There was a silhouette.
Not moving. Not breathing.
Just watching.