It was a stormy Friday evening when six strangers received the same mysterious invitation:
"You are cordially invited to Hargrove Manor tonight. A night you will never forget."
No one knew who sent it. The address led to an old mansion on the outskirts of town. Its windows were dark, and the iron gates creaked as they entered.
The host, Mr. Hargrove, a gaunt man with piercing eyes, welcomed them with a cold smile. "Dinner will begin shortly," he said. "Please… make yourselves comfortable."
The guests sat at the massive dining table: a nervous journalist, a retired soldier, a young hacker, a famous actor, a wealthy socialite, and a quiet artist.
As the storm raged outside, the lights flickered. The air felt thick, like it was watching them. Small whispers seemed to echo through the halls—soft at first, but growing louder.
Dinner began, but something felt off. The food tasted strange, almost metallic. The candle flames danced as if pulled by invisible fingers.