As they all settled into their futons, the quiet settled over them like a soft blanket. The flickering candlelight grew dimmer, casting elongated shadows that crept along the walls as if trying to wrap around them. Slowly, one by one, their eyes drifted closed, the exhaustion of the day finally pulling them into a light, uneasy slumber.
But just as the stillness seemed to fully settle, a faint scratching sound slithered through the silence. It was barely noticeable at first, almost like the distant rustle of leaves, but the low, eerie scrape grew more distinct. The sound seemed to drift from the other side of the wooden wall, a slow, methodical dragging as if something was clawing its way closer.
Vanisa's eyes opened first, the faint creak of her futon as she shifted catching Liza's sleeping face. The scratching came again, and this time, there was no mistaking it. A low, uneasy tune filled the room, making the hair on their arms stand up as they strained to listen.