First timer

Previously

…The glow intensified, and a low, guttural hiss filled the small space. The air grew colder, and I felt a prickling sensation on my skin, as if a thousand tiny needles were piercing me. This was the heart of the haunting, the nexus of the malevolence that had plagued Eleanor, and now, me. The house wasn't just haunted; it was a prison, a tomb, a monument to a soul broken beyond repair, its rage festering, its torment eternal. And I, by unearthing its secret, had just become its sole audience. The grinding sound of the stone began anew, but this time, it wasn't the hearth sliding open. It was closing.