The hallways had changed again.
What once were recognizable corridors now stretched into impossible shapes, breathing with a silent cadence that mimicked a sleeping heart. The walls whispered, and sometimes, within the fog that now invaded the interior, shadows flickered that didn't belong to anyone.
Noah walked with his flashlight in hand, fingers tense over the metal. The floor creaked beneath his boots. He had spent hours exploring, searching for a pattern in the shifting architecture, some logic behind the chaos. But the house didn't follow logic. It responded to emotion. To memory.
To will.
Yuki and Rei weren't with him. They had stayed in the library—or so he thought. Ever since they descended into the basement in the previous chapter, something had changed between the three of them. The glances were longer, the silences heavier. Yuki seemed more nervous. Rei more present. As if something inside him was awakening from a long slumber.
Noah stopped when he saw a door slightly ajar. It was a room he didn't recognize. As he pushed it open, a rush of warm air tousled his hair. Inside, portraits of people he'd never seen lined the walls. But one of them… one he did recognize.
It was Yuki. Or someone identical to him, in ancient robes, eyes dulled and skin marked with strange symbols. On the frame, carved in wood: "The Memory of the Guest."
A chill shot down his spine. He shut the door. Stepped back.
—"You shouldn't be alone," said a voice behind him.
Noah turned. Rei was there, his figure barely lit by the flashlight.
—"Yuki?" asked Noah.
—"He's asleep," Rei replied calmly. "Dreaming of things he doesn't yet understand."
Noah squinted.
—"And you? Don't you dream?"
—"Not like the living."
Silence wrapped around them—not uncomfortable, but expectant.
—"Why are you here?" Noah finally asked.
—"Because you came first. And the house responded."
—"Did it bring you back?"
—"Maybe I never left."
Noah stepped back. Rei didn't move. His presence was intense. Almost physical. As if his existence warped the air itself.
—"Does Yuki know who you are?"
Rei gave a sorrowful smile.
—"He's remembering. In his own way."
—"Were you the…?"
—"The guardian. The prisoner. The guest. The monster. The lover. I was many things. Some you wouldn't understand yet."
—"And now?"
—"What you decide I am."
Noah swallowed. The air thickened. Rei stepped closer.
But in that moment, a scream interrupted them. Yuki's voice.
They ran.
The library was lit by candles, but the center of the room was cloaked in shadow. Yuki stood, staring at the large mirror. His body trembled.
—"I saw it. He was here. Spoke to me again," he murmured, never looking away from the reflection.
Rei approached, without touching him.
—"What did he say?"
—"There's still fire in your bones. And I will come for it."
Noah looked at the mirror. His own reflection was distorted. As if something pushed from inside.
—"Who spoke to you, Yuki?" Noah asked, voice tense.
Yuki finally turned.
—"It wasn't Rei. Not this time. It was… someone else. Older. More… empty."
Rei frowned.
—"The Echo…" he whispered. "The house's voice when it refuses to forget."
Silence fell. Then Noah noticed something.
—"Your arm," he said, pointing.
Yuki looked down. A mark. As if something had tried to take him. The same symbol from the portraits. The skin red. Burning.
—"It hurts," said Yuki.
—"It's not a burn," Rei corrected. "It's an invitation."
Yuki met Rei's gaze. That stare—intense, almost aching. Rei wanted to say more. But didn't.
Noah broke the silence.
—"What's happening here?"
Rei exhaled.
—"The house is testing. It's awakening. And we… we are caught in its memory."
—"What do we do?"
—"We face it. Or become part of its walls."
That night, the three of them slept in the same room. Not for comfort, but out of need. The danger had become real. The flame that burned in Yuki's skin seemed to stretch into the air. The house watched.
And in a corner, while Yuki slept in nightmares, Noah opened his notebook and wrote:
"The flame that seeks to devour does not always wish to destroy. Sometimes, it just wants to remember."