Elora couldn't sleep. Again.
She lay in bed, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. The sound of rain had stopped hours ago, but her heart hadn't calmed. Every tick of the clock sounded like footsteps in the hallway. And ever since they came back from the chapel, something had felt wrong.
She finally sat up, clutching the blanket. Her room was cold colder than it should've been. The thermostat was still set at 72. The air didn't move. It just… watched.
A soft tap came from the wall.
She froze.
Then again. Tap... tap... tap.
It wasn't rats. Rats didn't tap in patterns.
She crept to the wall and pressed her ear against it, breath shallow. At first, all she heard was silence. Then...
"E... lo... ra…"
Her whole body jerked back. Her blood ran ice cold. That voice it wasn't human. It was too slow, like it had been pulled through something thick and ancient before reaching her.
Across town, Clara sat curled on her bed, scrolling through the video they'd filmed at the chapel. Frame by frame.
She stopped at the 23-minute mark. The moment when Emmanuel said "If you're here... follow us."
There, barely visible in the darkness behind them was a face. Not a mask. Not a shadow. A face with white eyes and no mouth, pressed up against the window of the chapel.
She didn't remember seeing it that night.
But it had seen them.
Clara's phone buzzed suddenly.
Unknown Number.
"It's in your house now."
She dropped the phone. Her breath hitched.
She didn't realize it, but behind her, the closet door had opened a crack.
At Emmanuel's apartment, the nightmares had already started.
He was running through an empty field, the sky red, the ground soaked. Something was behind him its footsteps didn't sound like feet. More like dragging bones.
He turned in the dream, and saw her.
Clara.
Eyes white.
Mouth sewn shut.
She pointed behind him.
He turned again and woke up screaming, drenched in sweat.
But the real horror wasn't the dream.
It was the bloody handprint on his bathroom mirror.
He hadn't touched it.
He hadn't even gone in there.
Back at Elora's, she finally gathered the courage to call someone. She dialed Clara.
It rang once.
Then went to voicemail.
But the voice on the other end wasn't Clara's.
"You shouldn't have let it follow you."
"Now it's part of your home."
"And homes... don't forget."
Then silence.
And a knock at her bedroom door.
Three slow knocks.
She was alone in the house.