The unsettling feeling in Tanya’s chest deepened as the words on the note echoed in her mind. She had barely finished digesting the terrifying story from her neighbor when the sounds grew louder again. The noise from the basement was no longer a distant rumble, but a cacophony—chains scraping against stone, something far worse. Each night, the nightmares her children had only grew more vivid, the same eerie woman with hollow eyes visiting them in their dreams. Desperate, Tanya had no choice but to act.

She called for help, but what arrived was far from what she expected. The priest stood frozen at the doorway, his face pale, his gaze fixed on the basement door. When he finally spoke, his words chilled her to the core: *”It’s not a gift. It’s a pact.”*

What had she stumbled into? This wasn’t just a new home, but an inheritance of a sinister kind. With the priest’s chilling warning ringing in her ears, Tanya made a bold choice. She gathered her children, rushed out of the house, and never looked back. The basement door remained sealed, hiding whatever dark force resided there.

Yet, the story didn’t end there. On the table, in the eerie moonlight, another note lay waiting—*“Next time… don’t run.”*

The house would forever remain a place of darkness, a chilling reminder that sometimes, the price of a ‘gift’ is far higher than anyone could imagine.