Lore is the novel’s dynamic deuteragonist. Her given name is Lauren, but she started going by “Lore” in college. Although the word “lore” denotes the body of traditions and knowledge held by a particular group, it can also refer to someone’s personal history, as well as the details that remain salient as that person grows up. Her choice of nickname therefore connects to her personal past, her current occupation as a creator of narrative-style computer games, and the gaming knowledge that she puts to use in order to understand the house and its rules. Like Owen, she has struggled with the challenges of being neurodivergent in a world designed for neurotypical people, and she has often relied on drugs to achieve a desired level of mental clarity or creativity.

Her own struggle with The Pervasive Nature of Guilt stems from a moment in her teenage years when Matty rejects her offer of LSD and she subsequently withdraws from him emotionally. As an adult, she believes that her coldness toward him spurred him to ascend that first staircase, precipitating the group’s dissolution, because Matty’s disappearance led to the breaking of the Covenant. Since she was often left alone as a child, Lore has convinced herself that it is better to be alone because she can accomplish more without being held back by someone.

Owen thinks of Lore as “a Hunter-Killer drone on a kill streak. It [i]s why she [i]s successful at, well, everything” (12). She is a no-nonsense person who does not have much capacity for dealing with ideas and people she doesn’t like. The house, however, exploits her aloofness, temporarily convincing her that “she should do this alone. Get rid of the others. They [a]re dead weight. Holding her back. Like they always did” (187). She recognizes that the house wants to separate them, but it takes her time to realize that she and her friends need each other to survive. Despite the microdoses of drugs that usually prompt her creativity, she has made no coding breakthroughs for six months. As she regains her appreciation for The Importance of Found Family, she finally admits to Owen, “I’m fucking up the new game […] Our game. The one we came up with. […] And […] I know deep down it isn’t just mine, it’s ours, and it needs you. And I hate that it needs you […] but it does. It really, really does” (311). As Lore makes these emotional breakthroughs, her creativity returns, and she is the one who figures out that the way to save Nick is to recount their memories of being together. As they do, the house’s presence is exorcised from his mind.

Nick is the only main character whose private thoughts and feelings are never revealed by the third-person omniscient narrator. This is a significant stylistic clue that he has something to hide and is less than trustworthy. The narrative eventually reveals that the house has been in possession of him from the first moments that his adult self appears; it has held sway over him since before he sends the email in which he falsely claims to have incurable pancreatic cancer.

Even in the first few chapters, Nick is portrayed in a less-than-favorable light. When Owen reads about Nick’s prognosis, he thinks, “Nick was like a human cigarette. All tar and nicotine. Was it possible for cancer to get cancer?” (12). However, although Nick isn’t gentle or “nice,” he has historically been deeply loyal to his friends. When the friends are teenagers, he is the one who compels the others to defend Hamish from bullies, and later, he takes the blame for Matty’s disappearance by confessing that he gave Matty drugs. He also tries to convince his friends to search for Matty. As an adult, Lore realizes that “Nick [i]s really the carrier of the Covenant. Each and every time” (375).

While the other four have known home lives that range from alienating to catastrophic, Nick hides the truth about his father’s sexual abuse. Everyone loves his father, including Nick, who blames himself for not liking himself enough to hate his abuser. In this way, Nick proves to be a dynamic character because he changes from someone who blames and hates himself into someone who recognizes his own value and innocence. In addition, he harbors terrible guilt for bringing his remaining friends “here [where they’re] all just empty houses waiting for this monster to move in and take [them] over” (332), and he nearly ends his own life before his friends stop him. Owen reminds him that the only way they can get through the house and through life is to be true to each other, as being alone leaves them too vulnerable.

Of the four remaining friends, Hamish plays the smallest role. He used to be larger than he is now, and he says that at some point, he learned to hate his body and punished it with obsessive workouts. He used to be laidback and comfortable in his own skin, but then he temporarily “died” of a drug overdose during college. After the doctors revived him, everything changed. He became convinced that God had given him a second chance at life, and he embraced Christian values—to a point. However, he still cheated on his wife and kept his kids at a distance. He admits that he struggles with guilt for not going after Matty, saying, “We didn’t save him and now we’re trapped here […] We deserve it” (163). He believes that the house is his own hell, a place of punishment where God can no longer see him. His guilt and his distorted sense of identity crush his self-regard as his captivity in the house continues.

Only when Lore corrects Hamish’s concept of the “fat” version of himself does he begin to realize that his entire self-perception is distorted. She acknowledges how horrible the house is and tells him that it is twisting her thoughts too. This admission allows Hamish to realize that traumatic experiences give rise to fear that causes people to “start looking for answers, and sometimes […] find […] the wrong ones” (243). In the final chapter, the narrator reveals that Hamish has had “The Talk with his wife” and confessed his infidelity (378). He also told her about his overdose and the experience of losing Matty. In the end, Hamish has learned to take responsibility for his choices and shed his guilt over his mistakes and the matters that were beyond his control.