Jason stood at the edge of the spiral staircase that descended beneath the rotting floorboards of the mysterious house. The wooden trapdoor creaked behind him as if trying to close on its own. A thick, cold breath of air rose from below, brushing against his skin like the fingers of a ghost.
He swallowed hard.
The narrow stairway was lit only by the dim glow of his flashlight, its beam flickering, unwilling to pierce the full darkness below. Behind him, the hallway where his friends once stood now felt distant, as if the house had shifted in its bones again. He was alone.
As he descended, each creaking step seemed to echo stories of those who had walked before him—some perhaps never came back. On the thirteenth step, the sound changed. The hollow groan became a whisper. A voice. Distant and brittle.
"He remembers..."
Jason froze. "Who's there?"
The whisper vanished. He reached the bottom.
The room was circular, its stone walls covered in ancient markings. Symbols glowed faintly across the walls—some pulsing softly, others dormant. In the center of the chamber stood a massive archway, its shape carved from obsidian rock, rimmed with silver veins that shimmered in response to his presence.
Jason stepped closer. His blood pounded in his ears.
It was the Bloodline Gate.
He had seen it before—in dreams, in strange visions ever since he entered the forest. But now, it stood in front of him, humming with something ancient and powerful. He raised a hand instinctively, and the symbols on the arch flared to life.
Suddenly, a deep groan came from behind him. A figure emerged—translucent, dressed in the faded uniform of a house servant. Her eyes were hollow but knowing.
"You are the Seeker," she said. "The Gate listens to you."
Jason stepped back. "Who are you?"
"I am the Housekeeper Spirit. Bound to this place by blood and oath. I once served your great-grandmother, Evelyn."
Jason's breath caught. "My grandma was here?"
The spirit nodded slowly. "She was the last to approach the Gate before the shadows took root."
Jason's flashlight blinked, then died. But the room remained lit—not by light, but by memory.
A vision bloomed before him. A young woman—Evelyn—stood before the Gate, hands trembling, eyes fierce. Behind her, a younger version of Tobias Gray—Mr. Rivers—watched in silence. And beside him, a boy who looked almost exactly like Jason.
Jason stepped forward. "Is that... me?"
"A past echo," said the Housekeeper. "Or perhaps, your former life. The Gate binds time and blood."
The vision rippled, showing Evelyn placing her hand on the Gate. A burst of light. A scream. Tobias trying to stop her. And then—darkness.
Jason turned to the spirit. "What happened to her?"
"She sealed the truth. But the seal is breaking. And now, the shadows hunger again."
The Gate pulsed. The markings across its arch swirled in patterns. One word appeared, in glowing runes:
"Awaken."
Jason's hand burned. He looked down. The birthmark on his wrist—the strange one shaped like a flame—was glowing.
The spirit bowed. "It has begun. The Gate calls to you, Blood Heir."
A deep rumble shook the chamber. The arch split in the middle, revealing a shifting mist beyond—a doorway to something unknown.
Jason took a breath. And stepped through.