Ava's scream was never spoken.
The cold hand on her wrist squeezed—only for a moment—before vanishing like smoke. She took a step back, thudding into the wall with a clang, gasping for breath. Her eyes straining in the blackness, her ears listening with every fiber for even the smallest sound of Rohit.
Silence.
Then—a whisper.
Not speech. A noise. A breath. Right behind her.
She spun around, pipe raised high, hacking wildly into the darkness. The clang of metal on wall boomed like gunfire. Nothing. Nobody. Just her ragged breathing and the low hum that had returned, pulsing faintly under the floorboards like the heartbeat of some ancient thing.
"Ava," Rohit's voice was distant. "Don't move."
She didn't move. "Where are you?"
"Far side of the room. There's… something down here. Not human."
No kidding," she complained, her voice shaking.
She crept down the wall, fingers running along wet, shattered stone. Each few feet, the wall curved, as though something or someone had clawed deep scratches out of it. Her mind was a whirlpool of questions, but fear gave her a shove.
A burst of light occurred at the other end—Rohit's phone light flash.
The beam was weak, jittery, casting eerie shapes across the room. But it was enough. She ran toward it like a drowning person to shore. When she reached him, she saw the blood on his forehead.
"You're hurt."
"I'm fine," he said quickly, but his pale face said otherwise.
He handed her the light. "Shine it there."
He gestured to a far wall, where tarps and crates had been moved aside, and something lay revealed—an old door, half-rotted and splintered, but supported with thick bolts.
Ava's throat closed. "You're going to open that?"
"I don't," Rohit said sternly. "But we have to."
As he began to unlock the bolts, Ava looked around. The silence returned, but it was not empty. It was waiting. Watching.
The last bolt creaked as it swung free. Rohit stopped, then opened the door.
The stench hit them first—mold, decay, and something coppery.
Blood.
Ava retched, her hand clamped over her mouth.
Beyond the door was a narrow corridor, its sides covered in rusty metal slats. The walls dripped moisture and were slick with mold. Flickering old lightbulbs hung from wiring, blazing intermittently like dying stars.
They stepped in.
With every step, the sound reverberated on and on, as if someone—or something—stood close behind them.
They discovered the first body ten paces in.
Rohit stopped. "Don't look."
But Ava already had.
It was a man. Bound to a chair. Face decaying, eyes removed. But the strange thing—his mouth closed up.
With wire.
Torn into his chest—a sigil. A circle with a line through it. The identical sigil Ava had seen on one of her uncle's files years ago. A case he had closed off without disclosure.
Her stomach soured. "What the devil is this place?"
"A vault," Rohit replied, his tone icy. "Where people are silenced. Forgotten."
Ava's thoughts were racing. "You think my uncle had anything to do with this?"
"I believe your uncle was involved in this."
They walked on, beyond further signs of horror—chained doors, blood-stained walls, claw marks. But no corpses. Only that one.
And still, the sense of being watched grew.
"Rohit," Ava breathed, her voice trembling. "What if this is a trap?"
"It is," said a voice—standing right behind them.
They spun around. Nobody.
But the door at the end of the corridor slammed shut.
Trapping them inside.
The lights flickered out.
Darkness surrounded them.
Then… a voice over an old speaker. Static. Then words.
"You've come far enough."
Ava clutched Rohit's arm. "Who is that?"
"You want answers?" the voice continued. "Then last an hour. If you can."
A mechanical hiss sounded through the corridor—vents opening.
Rohit cursed. "Gas."
They ran.
Back the way they had come. But the corridor was different now—longer, curved. The walls writhed. The door they had entered. disappeared.
"This place is shifting," Ava gasped.
"It's a labyrinth," Rohit replied, his hand over his mouth with his sleeve. "They're killing us slowly."
They turned left. And then right. The walls throbbed with whispers now—not words, but vibrations. Murmurs of the forgotten. Of the silenced.
Rohit saw a vent and began to pry it open.
Ava looked back down the hall.
A shadow moved towards them.
Not walking. Crawling.
Its limbs too long, its joints twisted incorrectly, its face hidden behind a mask sewn from human flesh.
Her scream broke the stillness.
"Rohit!" she screamed. "Come on!"
The vent groaned.
....
𝑬𝑵𝑱𝑶𝒀𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑹𝒀? 𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑫𝑳𝒀 𝑫𝑶 𝑺𝑶𝑴𝑬 𝑹𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮. 𝑰𝑻 𝑯𝑬𝑳𝑷𝑺 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑹𝒀 𝑻𝑶 𝑮𝑹𝑶𝑾...!
𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙙𝙤 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨 𝙨𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙄 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨.