In the crumbling heart of Ashwood Apartments, a place where the wallpaper hung like ancient skin and the floors creaked with the weight of forgotten memories, a chilling legend whispered through the stale air of each unit. Residents spoke in hushed tones about the ghostly figure known as the Skull Lady, a spectral presence that roamed the dim hallways after midnight with a singular, terrifying purpose.

They said she had once been a resident like any other, a woman of grace and beauty who had vanished under mysterious circumstances. It was not until the following autumn that her lifeless body was discovered, her essence forever tethered to the complex. It was then the knockings began—soft at first, like the flutter of a moth against a window. As the months passed, the knockings grew more insistent, echoing down the deserted corridors.

“Do not open the door,” the warnings came, echoed by the faint sound of rattling keys in lockets. “If you hear her knocking, stay inside. For if you meet her gaze... you will never leave.”

One chilly October night, a new...