The forest road ended at the massive brick wall, vines curling around it like dead fingers.
The abandoned three-story house loomed behind the wall like something watching.
Kenna adjusted her grip on the cocoon and silver hatchling.
Big Jim slammed the truck door and marched up beside her.
"Absolutely not. Nope. No way."
He crossed his arms.
"That house is straight-up evil. I can FEEL it."
Kenna sighed.
"Dad, look—"
"No 'Dad, look' nothing," he snapped.
"I raised you better than walkin' straight into HAUNTED REAL ESTATE."
Kenna gave him a tired look.
"You also raised me not to get eaten by giant demon spiders."
Jim paused.
"…Touché."
The silver spider chirped.
Kenna smiled a little.
Jim pointed at it.
"And YOU—don't you start encouragin' her! I already got one kid who doesn't listen!"
Kenna tried not to laugh.
The gate creaked as she pushed it open.
Jim grabbed her arm.
"Kenna—baby girl—slow down."
His voice softened into the tone he only used when he was scared for real.
"You've been fightin' monsters for the last hour. You're bleeding. You're tired. And I swear, if I lose you in some creepy house—"
Kenna turned to him.
"Dad. I know.
But we can't stay outside. The sisters will smell us in minutes."
Jim clenched his jaw.
His eyes shined with worry.
"…I hate when you're right."
They walked up the overgrown path together.
Jim stuck close to her side like a guard dog.
The door creaked open on its own.
Jim yelped and grabbed Kenna's shoulder.
"NOPE. Absolutely not. House is haunted. Forest is haunted. Hell is haunted. EVERYTHING'S HAUNTED. Let's just burn it all down and sleep in the truck."
Kenna looked back with a smirk.
"We don't have a truck anymore. You broke it fighting a spider lady, remember?"
Jim lifted his chin proudly.
"And I'd break it AGAIN. 'Cause that's what dads DO."
Kenna rolled her eyes but her smile softened.
"Come on, Dad."
When she stepped inside, Jim gently placed a hand between her shoulders—steady, guiding, protective.
"I'm right behind you, baby girl," he said quietly.
"No matter what's in this damn house, it's gotta get through me first."
The door shut behind them.
Jim jumped again.
"OKAY I TAKE IT BACK—YOU GO FIRST."
Far behind them, the forest exploded in a burst of lightning and broken branches.
Cyrus crashed through the trees, still in his half-spider, half-demon form.
Eight golden eyes scanned the ground.
His tongue tasted the air.
His claws dug into the dirt, sensing vibrations.
He murmured:
"Kenna…
Jim…
Where'd you go…?"
He sniffed again—
found the scent of engine oil, silver magic, and fear—
Then bolted forward.
Trees bent out of his way.
Roots snapped.
The forest howled as he tore through it.
He stopped at the abandoned brick wall, chest heaving.
He placed his clawed hand on the iron gate.
"…Kenna."
His eyes widened.
There—soft, faint—
A silver sparkle.
Baby spider silk.
He pressed his palm to the metal, sparks dancing along the iron.
"She's in there."
He pushed the gate—
The vines writhed.
The metal groaned.
And the gate slammed shut behind him.
Cyrus flinched.
He turned, confused.
The forest went silent.
No wind.
No bugs.
No sisters.
Just the looming house.
Cyrus whispered:
"…Okay. That's not creepy at all."
He stalked forward, lightning crackling off his limbs, ready to kill anything that moved.
He reached the door.
It was open a crack.
He stepped inside.
The door closed behind him with a click.
A year ago, The house was chaotic with movement—
not abandoned, not forgotten.
Not yet.
Rain hammered the windows as a frightened family boarded everything shut.
The father slammed a plank across the front door.
"Hurry!" he barked.
"They're coming back!"
Billy, seventeen, held her eight-year-old sister tight, the girl trembling against her chest.
The mother dragged furniture to block the windows.
The house looked lived-in:
shoes by the doorfood on the countera still-warm kettletoys scattered in the living room
Life had been happening—
until the demons came.
A deep, inhuman growl crawled across the outside walls.
The little sister whimpered.
Billy covered her ears.
The father cocked his rifle, hands shaking.
"I told you," he whispered.
"They NEVER leave for long."
The mother's voice cracked.
"We can still run—"
"NO." He cut her off.
"They're faster. We stay together."
Then—
THUD.
SCRAPE.
CRRRRRK.
Something massive crawled across the roof, claws dragging down the siding.
A shadow moved behind the boarded windows.
The father aimed the rifle.
The boards bulged inward—
CRASH—!!
A demon burst through the window, sending wood flying.
The father fired—
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
Dark blood splattered the walls.
The mother screamed.
More demons poured in—
through vents, through ceiling cracks, through the smashed door.
The father shouted:
"GO! BASEMENT—NOW!"
Billy grabbed her sister and fled with their mother.
Behind them, the father kept firing.
"DON'T LOOK BACK! GO!"
They ran down the basement stairs—
The door slammed shut behind them.
A heavy body slammed against the other side.
The mother sobbed quietly.
Billy held her little sister as the child shook violently.
The basement bulb flickered.
Something heavy dragged across the floor above them.
Then—
a scream.
The father's.
A short, choked sound.
A thud.
Silence.
Billy covered her sister's ears again.
The mother mouthed a prayer.
And darkness swallowed the house.
The present, The front door swung open with a long creak.
Kenna stepped inside cautiously, the silver spider perched on its cocoon.
Big Jim followed, flashlight trembling in his hand.
The air smelled of dust…
…and old fear.
Jim muttered,
"…Sweetheart… people were here. Recently."
The floor had fresh claw gouges.
The broken rifle still had a smear of dried blood.
A chair lay overturned as if someone fled.
Kenna whispered:
"It happened only a year ago."
Jim sighed heavily, voice low like a father afraid for his child.
"Baby girl… this is somebody's tragedy. And we're walkin' right through the middle of it."
Kenna nodded.
"I know, Dad.
But we need supplies. And this is the only shelter for miles."
Jim placed a protective hand on her shoulder.
"Then we stay together.
I ain't lettin' anything take you in this house."
They moved room to room:
Half-eaten canned food still on countersA child's toy crushed beneath claw marksA photo frame lying face-downA boot belonging to someone who didn't escape
Kenna swallowed hard.
"Dad… the family… they didn't stand a chance."
Jim exhaled shakily.
"No one fights Hell alone, sweetheart.
But now? They're gone.
And we gotta survive."
The silver spider hissed toward the basement door.
Kenna froze.
"…Dad? Did you hear that?"
Jim held up a hand, protective and steady.
"Stay behind me, baby."
The basement door creaked open an inch—
like something pushed from the inside.
Kenna and Big Jim stood at the basement door, the air cold and still, the silver spider trembling on the cocoon.
Jim swallowed hard.
"Stay close, baby girl," he said, voice quieter than usual.
Kenna nodded, pushing the door open.
It groaned—a long, hollow sound that echoed into the darkness below.
They descended slowly, step by creaking step.
The smell hit first.
Iron.
Dust.
Something sweet… and wrong.
Kenna whispered,
"Dad… I don't like this."
Jim shined his flashlight.
The beam fell across a shape.
Then another.
Kenna froze.
Her breath caught.
"Dad…"
A woman lay against the basement wall—
arms wrapped around her daughter.
Both still.
Both cold.
Both gone for a long time.
The mother's body slumped protectively over the child as if she'd shielded her until the last breath.
The little girl's hand was clutching her mother's shirt in a frozen grip of fear.
Jim lowered his head, removing his cap.
"…Lord," he whispered.
"They never made it out."
Kenna held the cocooned baby closer to her chest.
Her voice cracked.
"We can't help them now."
Jim gently rested a hand on her back.
"No. But we can make sure we don't end up the same way. Let's keep movin'. We owe 'em that much."
Kenna gave one last look—
a silent promise—
and they climbed back upstairs.
They moved room to room, gathering:
canned foodblanketsa water juga half-working flashlighta crowbar
Jim rummaged through drawers.
"Take anything useful. This place might be our shelter tonight."
Kenna nodded.
The silver spider clicked nervously.
Then—
CRACK.
A sound above them.
Kenna flinched.
"What was that?"
Jim lifted the crowbar.
"That came from the attic."
He moved first, father instincts kicking in hard.
"Stay behind me."
They climbed the narrow stairs to the third floor.
At the very top was a small attic door.
Jim pulled it open—
Something kicked the door from the inside.
Jim jumped back.
"HEY—WHO'S IN THERE!?"
A voice—weak, cracking—whispered:
"…please… don't hurt me…"
Jim's flashlight swept across the attic.
Crouched behind an old dresser, shaking, was a girl.
Thin.
Dirty.
Eyes sunken but alive.
Eighteen years old.
Billy.
Jim's voice softened immediately.
"Sweetheart… come 'ere. We ain't here to hurt you."
Billy didn't move.
Kenna stepped forward, holding the baby and the silver spider.
Billy's breath hitched.
"You… you're not demons…?"
Kenna shook her head slowly.
"No. We came to help."
Billy burst into tears, collapsing against the dresser.
"They… killed my family… the basement—my mom—my sister… I tried to hide… I've been here for days—maybe weeks— I don't know—everything's dark—"
Jim crouched down, gently touching her shoulder.
"You're safe now, honey. I promise."
Billy sobbed harder, clinging to him like a lifeline.
Kenna gave her a soft look.
But then—
CLICK.
The sound of a gun being cocked.
Kenna spun around.
At the attic entrance stood two human men.
One tall, rough and sarcastic—
Matthew Ward.
One calm, focused, holding a shotgun—
Joseph Ward.
Matthew raised an eyebrow.
"Oh great," he said. "More survivors in a demon nest. That's…not suspicious at all."
Joseph stepped forward, eyes not leaving the room.
"Hands where I can see them."
Kenna tightened her grip on the baby.
The silver spider hissed.
Big Jim lifted his crowbar.
Matthew aimed his pistol at Cyrus's empty spot.
"Whoa—hey now. We're hunters. We don't want trouble—unless you're trouble."
Kenna glared right back.
"We're not trouble," she said, voice steady.
Joseph lowered the shotgun slightly.
"…Then what the hell are you doing in a demon house?"
Kenna took a breath.
"Hiding."
Billy whispered from behind Jim:
"Please… don't shoot… they saved me…"
Joseph's face softened.
Matthew sighed.
"Well," he said, holstering his gun,
"Ain't this a family reunion."