Round 4 Transcript

I descend the stairs carefully, poker held ready, my footsteps nearly silent on the worn wood. The creaking sound from below grows clearer—a deliberate rhythm now, methodical. Someone is moving through the lower level with purpose. The flash of a beam from below, brief, sharp—some kind of light source down there. I stop at the foot of the stairs, poker raised, and call out into the darkness: "I know you're down here. Come up where I can see you."

The floorboards creaked again, louder this time—a deliberate sound from downstairs. Someone was in the kitchen. The lamp's glow cast long shadows across the room, making every corner seem like a hiding place. Her hand tightened around the iron poker. She moved toward the hall, her steps quiet on the hardwood floor. The house felt too big suddenly, too many rooms for one person to guard against intruders who don't belong here.