"It's been a while, hasn't it, Elias?"
The voice drifted from deep within the dimly lit house, shrouded in shadows that crept along the walls like a living thing. Elias paused just inside the threshold, his boots creaking softly on the aged wooden floor. Though his eyes struggled against the darkness, his ears caught every nuance of that voice—and he remembered it. A voice from distant memories, tethered to warmth and familiarity.
"Long time, Uncle," Elias replied, though uncertainty laced his tone. Something was off. Not quite wrong—but far from right. The air in the house felt thick, like a soup of silence and static.
A figure emerged from the deeper gloom of the sitting room, his features barely visible in the flickering light of a solitary oil lamp. He gestured casually toward an empty chair, his lips curled into a smile that felt more like a mask than a welcome.
