The knocking beneath the floor stopped.

For several seconds, neither Elias nor his mother moved.

The entire house seemed to hold its breath.

Elias stared at the wooden floor beneath his feet.

His mother stood behind him with one hand pressed against her mouth.

Neither of them spoke.

Then—

Knock.

Elias flinched.

Another knock came.

Knock.

Then a third.

Knock.

Three knocks.

Always three.

The same number that had followed Elias since the first night he saw his father.

His mother grabbed his arm.

“Don’t answer it.”

Elias looked at her.

“How do you answer a knock beneath the floor?”

“By acknowledging it.”

“What does that mean?”

“Don’t speak to it.”

The knocking stopped.

Elias waited.

Nothing.

Then something scratched underneath the floorboards.

Slowly.

Like fingernails dragging across wood.

His mother pulled him away.

“Come downstairs.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re leaving.”

“Leaving where?”

“Anywhere.”

“You said the house was the problem.”

“It is.”

“Then why are we still here?”

She didn’t answer.

They hurried downstairs.

His mother grabbed a suitcase from the cupboard and began throwing clothes inside.

Elias watched.

“You’re serious?”

“Yes.”

“Where are we going?”

“Your aunt’s.”

“She lives three hours away.”

“I know.”

“It’s midnight.”

“I don’t care.”

Elias looked toward the staircase.

“What about the house?”

“What about it?”

“The message.”

His mother stopped.

“Don’t talk about it.”

“Dad told me to come.”

“Your father is dead.”

“I know.”

“Then stop listening to his voice.”

Elias stared at her.

“You heard him too.”

She looked away.

“That doesn’t mean it was him.”

“What if it is?”

“What if it isn’t?”

The question silenced him.

His mother closed the suitcase.

“Get your shoes.”

Elias didn’t move.

“Mom.”

“What?”

“I think you know more than you’re telling me.”

She looked at him.

“I’ve been trying to protect you.”

“By lying?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because the truth might kill you.”

Elias stepped closer.

“Then tell me the truth before it does.”

She stared at him.

Her expression softened.

Then she whispered,

“Your father went to that house three times.”

Elias waited.

“The first time, he went alone.”

“What happened?”

“He came home two days later.”

“Was he hurt?”

“No.”

“Then?”

“He wouldn’t speak.”

“For how long?”

“Three days.”

“And then?”

“He told me he had seen his father.”

Elias swallowed.

“Grandfather.”

“Yes.”

“What did Grandpa say?”

“That Daniel had to bring his son.”

Elias felt cold.

“Me?”

His mother nodded.

“Your father refused.”

“What happened?”

“Your father started hearing your voice from inside the walls.”

Elias remembered the diary.

I heard Elias crying beneath the house.

He whispered,

“But I wasn’t there.”

“No.”

“Then whose voice was it?”

His mother looked toward the ceiling.

“I don’t know.”

---

They never left the house.

At 12:47 a.m., every door in the house slammed shut.

The lights went out.

The suitcase fell from his mother’s hand.

Elias grabbed his phone.

No signal.

“Mom.”

“I know.”

“What’s happening?”

She didn’t answer.

Then the front door opened.

Slowly.

By itself.

Cold air entered the house.

Rain blew across the floor.

His mother stared at the open doorway.

“Don’t look outside.”

Elias looked anyway.

The street was empty.

But something was standing beneath the streetlamp.

A man.

Daniel.

His father’s face.

His father’s jacket.

His father’s posture.

Elias whispered,

“Dad.”

His mother grabbed him.

“Don’t.”

The figure raised its head.

It smiled.

Then it stepped into the rain.

One step.

Two.

Three.

It stopped outside the house.

Its mouth moved.

Elias couldn’t hear anything.

Then the wind suddenly died.

The figure’s voice became clear.

“Elias.”

His mother began shaking.

“Don’t answer.”

The figure smiled wider.

“Elias.”

He said nothing.

“Come home.”

Elias stared.

“This is my home.”

The figure tilted its head.

“No.”

It pointed toward the forest.

“Your home is waiting.”

The front door slammed shut.

The figure disappeared.

His mother sank onto the floor.

Elias knelt beside her.

“What did he mean?”

She whispered,

“He was never talking about this house.”

“Then where?”

She looked toward the forest.

“The black house.”

---

At sunrise, Elias made his decision.

He was going.

His mother begged him not to.

He refused.

She cried.

He still refused.

Finally, she opened an old wooden cabinet and removed a small iron key.

“This belonged to your father.”

Elias took it.

“What does it open?”

“The basement beneath the black house.”

“You’ve been there?”

“Once.”

“When?”

“The night your father disappeared.”

Elias looked at her.

“What happened?”

She swallowed.

“I followed him.”

“You saw him?”

“Yes.”

“Alive?”

“Yes.”

Elias stared.

“You saw Dad after he disappeared?”

“Yes.”

“What was he doing?”

“Standing beneath the tree.”

“Alone?”

“No.”

His mother’s voice dropped.

“There was a boy with him.”

“A boy?”

“About your age.”

“Who was he?”

“I don’t know.”

“What happened?”

“Daniel told me to run.”

“Why?”

“Because the boy turned around.”

She closed her eyes.

“He had your father’s face.”

Elias felt a chill.

“What?”

“The boy looked at me.”

She began crying.

“He looked exactly like Daniel when he was seventeen.”

Elias stared at the key.

“What happened after that?”

“Daniel pushed me away.”

“Then?”

“I ran.”

“You left him?”

“I had no choice.”

“Mom…”

“I heard screaming behind me.”

She covered her face.

“When I looked back, your father was gone.”

“And the boy?”

“Gone too.”

---

The forest was silent when Elias entered it.

He carried a flashlight, the iron key, his father’s diary, and the pocket watch.

His mother had wanted to come with him.

He had refused.

She had given him one final warning.

“If you hear your father’s voice behind you, don’t turn around.”

Elias had asked why.

She had only said:

“Because if it is really him, you won’t need to turn around.”

Now he walked alone.

The path was muddy.

Branches scratched his jacket.

Birds were strangely absent.

Even insects were silent.

After nearly an hour, Elias reached the hill.

The black house stood at the top.

It looked exactly as it had in his dreams.

Three floors.

Broken windows.

A dead tree beside the entrance.

The roof sagged toward the northern side.

Elias stopped at the gate.

His father’s pocket watch began ticking.

One.

Two.

Three.

He opened it.

The second hand was moving backward.

The door of the house opened.

Elias whispered,

“I’m here.”

No answer.

He stepped inside.

The door closed behind him.

The air smelled of damp wood.

Dust floated through the beam of his flashlight.

He looked around.

The walls were covered with photographs.

Hundreds of them.

Families.

Children.

Fathers.

Some photographs were so old that the faces had faded.

Elias moved closer.

He saw one photograph of a man standing beside the dead tree.

The date was written underneath.

Another.

Another.

Another.

Then—

Elias stopped.

The final photograph was dated seven years earlier.

His father stood in front of the house.

He was holding a flashlight.

Beside him stood Elias.

But Elias had been ten.

He had no memory of being there.

He touched the photograph.

“Why don’t I remember?”

A voice answered from upstairs.

“Because you weren’t supposed to.”

Elias froze.

His father’s voice.

“Dad?”

Silence.

Then—

“Come upstairs.”

Elias slowly raised his flashlight.

The staircase disappeared into darkness.

He remembered his mother’s warning.

If you hear your father’s voice behind you, don’t turn around.

But the voice had come from upstairs.

Not behind him.

Elias climbed.

One step.

Two.

Three.

The wood creaked beneath his feet.

At the top was a long hallway.

Seven doors.

Six were closed.

One was open.

A faint light came from inside.

Elias walked toward it.

The room contained an old wooden bed.

A chair.

A mirror.

And a child’s drawing.

He picked it up.

It showed a family.

A father.

A mother.

A son.

The son had a black circle over his face.

Underneath, someone had written:

THE SON MUST NOT SEE HIS FATHER DIE.

Elias dropped the paper.

A sound came from the mirror.

He slowly looked up.

His reflection stood perfectly still.

But Elias was breathing.

His reflection wasn’t.

Elias lifted his hand.

The reflection didn’t.

Then it smiled.

Elias stepped backward.

The reflection whispered,

“Dad is waiting.”

The mirror cracked.

Elias turned.

The door was gone.

He was trapped.

The room began getting colder.

The bed moved.

The chair moved.

The walls seemed to breathe.

Then the reflection changed.

Daniel appeared in the mirror.

His father.

Young.

Healthy.

Smiling.

“Elias.”

He approached the mirror.

“Dad.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For leaving you.”

“You didn’t.”

Daniel looked down.

“I did.”

“No.”

“I left you alone.”

“You died.”

“I shouldn’t have.”

Elias touched the mirror.

“Come back.”

Daniel’s expression changed.

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not the one you saw.”

Elias froze.

“What?”

Daniel stepped closer.

“Listen carefully.”

His voice became urgent.

“The thing that wears my face is not me.”

“Where are you?”

“Below.”

“Below where?”

“The house.”

Elias looked at the floor.

Daniel whispered,

“Your grandfather is still here.”

Elias’s heart stopped.

“Grandfather is dead.”

“I know.”

“Then how can he be here?”

Daniel’s face filled with terror.

“He isn’t dead.”

The mirror shattered.

Elias screamed.

Something grabbed his ankle.

He fell.

He kicked wildly.

A hand came through the floorboards.

Then another.

Elias crawled toward the door.

The hands disappeared.

He stood.

The door was suddenly there.

He ran.

The hallway had changed.

The seven doors were gone.

Now there was only one.

At the end of the corridor.

A black door.

Elias approached it.

The iron key in his pocket became hot.

He pulled it out.

It fit the lock.

He hesitated.

Then turned it.

The door opened.

A staircase descended.

He switched on his flashlight.

The beam disappeared into darkness.

He heard crying.

A man’s crying.

Then a whisper.

“Elias.”

His father’s voice.

He stepped down.

The door closed behind him.

---

The staircase seemed endless.

Elias counted.

Ten steps.

Twenty.

Thirty.

Forty.

The air became colder.

At fifty steps, he smelled something rotten.

At sixty, he heard whispers.

At seventy, he heard his mother’s voice.

“Elias, come back.”

He stopped.

“Mom?”

Silence.

Then his father’s voice.

“Don’t listen.”

Elias continued.

At the bottom was a stone corridor.

Candles burned along the walls.

Hundreds of names had been carved into the stone.

He recognized some.

Samuel.

Daniel.

Others.

Then—

Elias.

His own name.

Carved deeply into the wall.

Underneath it was a date.

SEPTEMBER 13, 2026.

Elias stared.

His birthday.

But the date was tomorrow.

His blood ran cold.

He touched the carving.

The stone was warm.

Then someone whispered behind him.

“You came.”

Elias slowly turned.

His father stood at the end of the corridor.

Daniel.

Exactly as he remembered him.

No black eyes.

No strange smile.

No blood.

Just his father.

Elias’s eyes filled with tears.

“Dad?”

Daniel nodded.

“I’m sorry.”

Elias ran toward him.

But Daniel stepped backward.

“Don’t come closer.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not alone.”

A shadow moved behind Daniel.

Tall.

Thin.

Impossible.

Elias stopped.

The shadow slowly placed its hands on Daniel’s shoulders.

Daniel’s face twisted with fear.

“Run.”

Elias couldn’t move.

“Dad…”

Daniel shouted,

“RUN!”

The shadow leaned toward him.

Then it whispered in a voice that sounded like dozens of people speaking together:

“Father.”

Daniel screamed.

The candles went out.

Complete darkness swallowed the corridor.

Elias heard footsteps.

Slow.

Heavy.

Coming toward him.

Then a voice whispered beside his ear.

“Tomorrow night…”

Elias froze.

“…you will be the father.”

Something cold touched his cheek.

Then vanished.

The lights returned.

Daniel was gone.

Only his pocket watch remained on the floor.

Elias picked it up.

The watch opened.

The photograph inside had changed again.

Now it showed Elias standing beneath the dead tree.

Beside him stood his father.

And behind them stood the black figure.

At the bottom of the photograph were five words:

ONE FATHER MUST REMAIN.

Elias stared at the message.

Then he heard something behind him.

Three knocks.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

He turned.

At the far end of the corridor stood a little boy.

The boy looked exactly like Elias had looked when he was six.

The child smiled.

Then whispered:

“Daddy.”

Elias’s blood turned cold.

The boy lifted one hand.

Pointed toward the darkness.

And said:

“He’s waiting for you.”

The boy disappeared.

Elias stood alone.

Then something began scratching behind the wall.

Slowly.

Patiently.

As if something had been trapped there for years.

And was finally waking up.