The streetlights flickered overhead, buzzing like dying insects. Some were already dead, leaving long stretches of pavement swallowed by darkness.

And there it was.

Erebus House.

A crumbling Victorian skeleton, four stories tall, its windows dark and uneven like mismatched eyes. Ivy crawled up one side, thick and black, strangling the brickwork. The front porch sagged under its own weight, boards warped and splintered.

A sign hung crooked above the doorbell, letters faded to almost nothing:

ROOMS AVAILABLE. INQUIRE WITHIN.

A man leaned against the railing, arms crossed. Even in the dim light, you could make out sharp features, broad shoulders, and eyes that watched you with the quiet patience of someone who'd been waiting far longer than a few seconds.