The Book opens and the city listens. Neon flickers over a high‑rise as nursery rhymes warp into incantations and the elevator fills with a red tide. A needle drops on a cursed vinyl, doors chain themselves, and a family dinner becomes a gauntlet of knives, glass, and whispered “Mommy.” Alyssa Sutherland’s grin cuts like a crescent blade; Lily Sullivan claws through hallways that breathe.

Peep‑holes blink, teeth chatter in jars, and the Necronomicon’s art… moves. Practical splatter collides with bone‑rattling sound design—every thud feels like a basement door slamming inside your chest. The trailer teases apartment‑to‑apartment mayhem, a stairwell siege, and a chainsaw hymn rising over fire alarms. When the lights die, the lullaby continues—because blood remembers.