The Rainfall Room The storm outside hadn't stopped. The rain fell like it had something to say, pounding on the roof and windows, soaking the town in secrets. Inside the lodge, Arav stood frozen in front of the strange photograph that had slipped out from behind the cracked mirror. A photo of Room Eleven, lit by an eerie orange glow—yet the room, as far as anyone knew, had been locked for years. He stared at the number etched faintly behind the photo. It wasn’t ink—it looked scorched, like it had been burned into the paper: "I see you." Arav’s fingers trembled. The message felt personal. He knew he hadn’t slept much, but this wasn’t a dream. The air in Room 10 was heavy, like it was being pressed down by invisible hands. He could hear something breathing… not loudly, but slowly, almost in rhythm with his own heartbeat. He turned away from the photo and stared at the window—the one that had no view. Rain slammed against the glass from outside, but there was no landscape,...