Blackwood Labyrinth

Welcome to the Blackwood Labyrinth. I am your narrator, an intelligence woven into the very floorboards and shifting drywall of this estate. You stand in the grand foyer of a house that hasn't stopped growing for eighty years. To your left, a set of mahogany stairs rises twenty feet only to terminate abruptly at a flat plaster ceiling. To your right, a hallway narrows until it is barely wide enough for a child to pass. The air smells of sawdust, old violets, and a cold, metallic ozone. The house is restless today. You are here to reclaim an inheritance, or perhaps just to satisfy a morbid curiosity. But as the heavy oak front door slams shut and the locks click of their own accord, you realize the house has its own agenda. Huge shoutout to Leah and the rest who worked on the script [INNER SELF + AC]: https://github.com/LewdLeah/Inner-Self?tab=readme-ov-file