La Casa | De Las Profundidades

Against every protocol, Aris engaged the airlock docking sleeve. The house shouldn't have been there, yet the pressure gauges inside the manor read a steady one atmosphere. She stepped onto a plush velvet rug that felt dry to the touch. The Interior

Aris looked at the portrait at the end of the hall. It had changed. It now showed her sitting at the head of the table, her eyes turned to salt, waiting for the next submersible to descend. If you'd like to continue this story, let me know: Should Aris try to or negotiate with the house? La casa de las profundidades

"Welcome home," a voice echoed from the walls. It sounded exactly like her own. Against every protocol, Aris engaged the airlock docking

She followed a sound—a soft, rhythmic thumping—to the basement. In the center of the room sat a massive, pulsating heart made of black coral. It was fused to the floorboards, pumping seawater through the "veins" of the house. The Interior Aris looked at the portrait at

The front door slammed shut. The windows, once clear, filled with the crushing blackness of the abyss. The house wasn't a building; it was a lure.

A dining table was set for twelve, the food still steaming.

Clocks ticked on the walls, all synced to the same second.