Chapter 16: The Flame of the Absolute

Alex left the room, and his every step echoed deafeningly in the elongated corridor, as if the building registered his presence and at the same time did not want it. The air was heavy, suffused with the smell of damp plaster and something metallic that resembled the smell of clotted blood. Shadows distorted the straight lines of the walls, bending them into absurd shapes that seemed to follow him with their eyes. He walked, leaning slightly forward, as if he felt an invisible weight on his shoulders.

There was a smoldering longing in his heart for normalcy, for a day when the only challenge was an unannounced math paper, but that longing was dominated by steely determination. He knew it was time to face his demons - his own and those that lurked in the shadows. He wasn't sure what awaited at the end of this road, but he had to go. He had to act.

At the end of the corridor, he stopped at a dusty window. The glass, long since uncleaned, dulled the view of the outside world, but still allowed him to see the dark sky. Clouds were thickening on the horizon, as if a storm was gathering - not only weather-wise, but also within himself. Alex thought over every step, every word he was about to utter. He stared at his reflection in the dirty glass, seeing in it not so much himself, as someone foreign - a warrior, a guardian, someone who had to give up fear to face the darkness.

A quiet touch on his shoulder snapped him out of his reverie. He turned abruptly and saw Victor. The man, with a stature carved from granite, stood with nonchalant confidence. His eyes, though animated by a spark of determination, seemed to pierce Alex thoroughly, as if they wanted to look into the deepest recesses of his soul.

- What's next? - asked Victor, his voice was like a hammer hitting an anvil, straight, heavy and unarguable. - Are you ready for what lies ahead?

Alex looked at him, and a shadow of a smile appeared on his lips, barely noticeable, but full of hidden strength.

- Yes. I am ready to annihilate them," he replied, and his voice sounded confident, almost cool.

Victor nodded, his face contorted into a slight grimace of approval, then turned and headed for the nearby forest. The trees, torn by the shadow of night, stood like silent sentinels, hiding their secrets in the depths of darkness.

Alex, on the other hand, directed his steps toward home. The path he took was quiet, but there was something heavy in that silence, something that seemed to fill every crack in reality. As he approached the front door, he felt a surge of strange nostalgia, as if he were crossing the border between past and present.

When he entered his room, he slammed the door behind him, as if closing it to the outside world. He dragged his hand across the curtains, cutting off the night sky. The room seemed to change - not physically, but in a way that was hard to grasp. It was colder, more alien. His gaze fell on the mirror.

He approached it slowly, as if afraid of what he would see. He saw his reflection in the sheet of glass, but what he saw did not resemble the boy he knew from his daily glances. His eyes blazed with cobalt, an intense, unnatural color. The color seemed to seep into him, illuminating every nook and cranny of his insides. Under the skin of his hands and neck, veins became visible, pulsing with the same glow, as if the blood in his body had transformed into something divine and alien at the same time.

He was breathing fast, feeling his heart beating to the rhythm of an unknown melody, as if each pulse carried not only life, but also energy capable of burning the world. He stood there, staring at his reflection, looking at a new version of himself that was both terrifying and fascinating.

The Presence's words roared in his head:

"You are the gatekeeper, the observer of reality and those who move within it."

He felt the weight of this destiny fill his every cell. It was like an awakening, as if thousands of dormant senses opened up at once, ready for a new reality.

He clenched his fists, and cobalt light flashed across his skin. He knew there was no turning back. Whatever was to come, he had to face it - not as a township boy, but as something more. As a Guardian.

He left the house, and the cold wind enveloped him, as if trying to remind him of what he had left behind. As he closed the door, he looked once again at the place that had once been a refuge. Now it was just a stop on the way to his destiny. In the darkness of the night, his eyes lit up with cobalt, illuminating the path he had to follow.

When Alex entered the café, the suppressed warmth of the interior seemed to bite against the icy weight he carried in his heart. The place had something seemingly ordinary about it: tables arranged in even rows, the metallic clatter of spoons against cups, the smell of ground coffee wafting through the air like a fleeting promise of peace. But to him, every little thing, every sound seemed imbued with some sinister undertone. Waiting for him at one of the back tables were three friends. Emma, Max and Penelope.

As he took his seat, he sensed that every movement, every exchange of glances was steeped in a silent question: What now?

Emma played with the bracelet on her wrist, her delicate hands moving quickly, as if trying to diffuse the tension. Her face was soft, too young to wear such a deep expression of sadness. There was something in her eyes that resembled a distant horizon, full of hazy memories. Max corrected his glasses, his nervous tic betraying more than he wanted to show. He was a boy trying to bring order to the chaos, while at the same time fighting the premonition that it was all beyond his strength. Penelope, leaning with her elbow against the table, was staring into a steaming mug of coffee. Her face was unreadable, as if coded in a language no one dared to read.

- I know this is a difficult subject," Alex began, trying to keep his voice even. The words flowed slowly, like drops of oil on water. - But we need to discuss it. William... didn't deserve what happened.

Emma nodded, but her gaze lingered on the surface of the table, as if looking there for answers she couldn't find within herself.

- It's all so unnatural," she sighed. - We can't pretend it didn't happen. We have to consider all possibilities. It's not just about him," she whispered. - The whole place. Everything seems ... broken.

Max grunted, leaning over the table.

- You have to start with the basics," he chuckled, and his voice was harder than expected. - Who was the last person to see him? Did he say something? Maybe he was afraid of something?

Penelope looked at Alex with that cool, defiant expression she wore like a protective mask.

- If we don't find out what happened, we're screwed," she said, and her voice was like a knife blow, accurate and brutal. - If we don't find something soon, we'll probably be next.

Alex nodded in agreement with her words.

- We must act. Quickly and precisely," he stated, although somewhere in the back of his mind hummed the thought that it might be too late. - Let's start by investigating his last days. The places he visited. The people he talked to.

Emma, still staring at the table, raised her head.

- We should be careful," she said quietly, but her voice carried a certain stubbornness. - We can't accuse anyone until we are sure.

Max nodded, agreeing with his suggestion.

- This is a good idea. We can start by talking to his relatives and friends. Maybe someone saw or heard something that will help us in our investigation.

Emma also agreed.

- But we must be careful. We can't make accusations without evidence.

Max took a tablet out of his pocket and displayed something on the screen, tossing it on the table like an ace up his sleeve.

- I obtained William's autopsy report," began Max, breaking the silence that filled the room. - The wounds that the murderer inflicted on him are.... fucking horrifying. I need a cigarette.

Alex sucked in air, feeling the atmosphere in the café change, as if something invisible had passed by them, leaving behind an icy breeze. He looked at his reflection in the metal tray on a neighboring table. His face was tense, his eyes glittered like glass.

- We will not be victims," he said, and his voice was almost a threat thrown into space. - If this is a game, we will learn the rules and play better.

Penelope smiled wider, and there was a hint of something wild in her smile.

- Well, Alex," she said, raising the coffee mug to her lips, "welcome to the game.

Max sucked in air through his teeth, as if each letter on the screen was a poisoned needle jabbing into his consciousness. His fingers glided over the tablet, and the skin on his palms was pale from tension. The space between them, dimmed by the cafe's light, seemed to vibrate like a string overloaded with the darkness they were now exploring.

- There are traces of torture... - he said, and his voice was as heavy as the rasp of metal on stone. - Exposed organs. Wounds... As if they cut him alive.

For a moment, no one spoke. Emma looked away, clasping her hands so tightly that her knuckles turned white and her lips trembled slightly, as if something inside her wanted to explode. Max glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, then continued, like a man who can't stop before the end, even if there is an abyss.

- The report mentions text engraved on the body.... - hesitated, pausing for a split second. The clatter of a teacup against the countertop sounded in the café, as if the world remembered that it still existed. - We know about him, but now we have more details.

Max scrolled through the document on the tablet. The light from the device cast pale shadows on his face, and his clenched jaws betrayed the tension that was building up inside him.

- Listen to this. - Max's voice was now lower, almost rough. - "The victim suffered multiple injuries, including gunshots, lacerations, cuts and stab wounds. At least two types of tools were used: firearms and sharp white weapons. The nature of the wounds indicates the sadistic precision of the perpetrator."

Penelope raised an eyebrow, throwing Max an icy stare.

- Precision? - She asked with bitter irony. - He sounds more like a butcher who played on someone's body.

Emma turned her head, trying to hide the tears that were beginning to flow into her eyes. Max sighed deeply and continued, his voice now trembling slightly, as if he himself felt disgusted by what he was reading.

- "During the autopsy, Latin inscriptions were noticed, carved in a way that suggested a ritual meaning. The marks were stretched from the sternum to the lower abdomen, and their precision indicates the use of specialized tools."

Alex, who had remained silent until then, furrowed his brow, and his eyes took on a dark expression.

- Specialized tools? - he repeated, in a tone more of a statement than a question. - This doesn't sound like a simple murder. This is someone who knew what he was doing.

Max moved his finger across the screen and took a drag on his cigarette. Smoke floated around his face, as if trying to ward off what he was saying.

- "Burns, probably caused by fire, were also found on the victim's body. These wounds bear the signs of a deliberate act, perhaps as a form of additional suffering."

Penelope laughed quietly, but it was an empty, joyless sound.

- Additional suffering? - she said, dragging the words like poison on her tongue. - Who the hell does one have to be to plan this? A virtuoso of murder? I'm impressed by his or her or perhaps their fantasy.

Max ignored her comment and scrolled on.

- "The skull fracture indicates a violent impact, which may have been the final blow."

He paused to take a breath. The sound of his deep sigh was the only sound in the silence that fell between them.

- That's not all. - His voice trembled, but he managed to control it. - "Traces of acid were found on the soft tissues around the head wound. These traces suggest that the perpetrator did not limit himself to physical tools, but also used chemicals as part of his procedure."

Emma covered her mouth with her hand, and Penelope stared at Max as if he were a man who brings news from hell.

- There is something else. - Max looked at Alex, as if seeking permission in his eyes to continue reading.

- Speak. - Alex leaned in slightly, his voice muted but full of suppressed anger.

Max looked at the last sentence of the report and read it aloud.

- "The victim's injuries suggest that the murder was not only brutal, but also had a deeply symbolic meaning. Someone wanted to convey a message, to engrave it on the body as on a cursed parchment."

Silence fell, in which every breath, every look seemed to weigh a thousand tons. Alex, with his hands clenched into fists, looked at his friends.

-It wasn't just murder. - His voice was low and trembling. - It was a message.

Emma lowered her head, and Max put out his cigarette, crushing it in the ashtray with a force that betrayed more than he wanted to show.

- The question is... - spoke up Penelope, her voice as cold as steel - to whom was this message directed?

Alex listened to Max's words with a tension that seemed to resonate in every cell of his body. The images of the brutality of the acts described caused him more than anxiety - they were like blades that not only cut through his thoughts, but also left deep scratches on the very fabric of his perception of reality. He felt the darkness begin to gather within him, as questions about his siblings, about their capacity for such bestiality, took the form of suffocating doubts.

Max, with his lips slightly tightened, took up further reading of the report, and his voice, despite his apparent certainty, seemed to carry an echo of inner shakiness.

- Limbs... - he began, but hesitated, taking a deep breath. - The limbs looked as if they had been violently torn from the body. Shreds of muscle, vessels, tissue - it's all described so precisely that you can feel the pain.

Emma looked at him, her face was tense, her eyes full of emotion that she did not even try to hide.

- Ripped out? - she repeated in disbelief. - Not cut off, but... ripped out?

Max looked at her through the tablet, his gaze blank, as if he was trying to find an answer to a question that made no sense in himself.

- The wounds suggest just that. The report reads of jagged bone ends and bruises, as if someone used force that is not human.

The description of the wound was like dark poetry. Ragged muscles, exposed tissues, the pale glow of exposed bones - all this created an image of pain that even the imagination refused to take in. Every detail of the wound was like a clenched fist of anger that now pulsed in Alex's head.

Emma swallowed her saliva loudly, as if her throat refused to obey.

- What about... - she interrupted, lowering her gaze, but immediately raised it with determination. - What about his appendage? What does the report say?

Max furrowed his eyebrows as he scrolled through page after page of the document.

- There is a reference, but not explicit. It has been ... - He paused, searching for words that wouldn't trigger another wave of nausea. - It was torn off or sliced off, but the report does not specify the method. What is known is that... It was placed in the victim's mouth.

Emma held her breath, and Penelope, who had been silent until then, suddenly burst out into quiet, frustrated laughter.

- It's a fucking theater of the pornographic macabre. As if someone wants us to remember it forever. A dick in the mouth. - Her voice was like steel, cold and sharp, but trembling somewhere deep inside.

Alex stood up, pushing his chair away from the table with a noise that seemed to echo in their souls. His gaze was focused, almost motionless, as if he was looking not at his friends, but at something distant, something they could not yet see.

- This is something we need to investigate, but not here. Find out everything you can. - His voice was muted but firm. - I have to go. Meet with someone.

Emma nodded, though her eyes betrayed concern. Penelope shrugged her shoulders, as if all this was just another chapter in a story that was doomed to collapse anyway.

Alex left the café and headed toward the forest. Evening doused the world in soft shades of dark blue, but in the forest, where the shadows were thick and deep, every minute was like a prelude to the coming of night. The trail he followed narrowed with each step, leading him into the heart of the thicket, where the trees seemed to close over him like a colossal dome.

The air was damp, saturated with the smell of wet earth, moss and something else - a disturbing aroma of decay, as if nature itself had witnessed things it preferred to hide. In the distance he spotted Victor, standing motionless under a huge oak tree.

Victor was wearing a dark cloak that seemed to flow seamlessly into the shadows of the trees. His silhouette was distinct, though it almost melted into the surroundings, as if he did not belong to this world, but merely visited it. As Alex approached closer, Victor turned slowly, and a slight, almost mocking smile appeared on his face.

- Funny, isn't it? - he said quietly. - How quickly a person begins to see shadows where before he saw only light.

Alex stopped in front of him, feeling his heart speed up and his mind flooded with a wave of questions that Victor seemed to know the answers to.

- Tell me, what now? - Alex asked, looking into his eyes, which seemed to be blacker than the night behind them.

Victor raised an eyebrow, as if the question amused him.

- Now? - he repeated, and his voice was like silk sliding along the blade of a knife. - Now the real game begins.

Alex stopped for a moment to take a breath. The cool air of the forest seemed to penetrate deeper than usual, filling his lungs with a heavy, sticky chill.

- You took your time," Victor said without looking at him. His voice was calm, but the tone, like a blade, pierced the darkness.

- I'm sorry I'm late," Alex replied, trying to sound natural, although his heart was beating unevenly. - Tell me... are my messed up siblings behind Will's death?

Victor lifted his gaze, lazily, as if unhurriedly studying Alex himself. His eyes, glittering like extinguished stars, stayed on him longer than was comfortable.

- The signs are everywhere," he finally said, dragging out the words as if he was taking pleasure in building tension. - Your siblings may be to blame, but there's more to it than that. Something bigger is at stake here.

Victor's words floated in the air like invisible threads. Alex did not respond immediately, biting the inside of his cheek.

- Do you have a plan? - he finally asked, though he knew the question might be fruitless.

Victor smiled at the corner of his mouth, and his gaze wandered again, sweeping through the trees like a searchlight looking for the hidden truth.

- Plan? - he repeated, as if he tasted the word. - I feel that among you someone is not who he claims to be. Or do you know who I am talking about?

Alex felt the tension tighten in his throat. An inner voice suggested the name to him, but chased it away, as if it could come to life and bite into his thoughts.

- Tell me who you have in mind," he growled through clenched teeth.

Victor shrugged his shoulders, as if it was the least important question at the moment.

- I don't know yet," he replied, and his voice was strangely light. - But the truth, he has a habit of revealing himself at the most unexpected moments.

Suddenly the silence was broken by the snap of branches. The forest seemed to vibrate, and the air became heavier, as if something invisible filled the space. Victor turned his head toward the sound, his eyes narrowed like those of a predator.

- Did you hear that? - He asked.

Alex nodded, feeling the adrenaline surging through his veins. They moved toward the sound, their steps quiet but firm. As they traversed the forest, the trees seemed to move closer, forming an unfriendly tunnel of leaves and shadows.

A scrap of cloth dangled on a branch, as if someone had snatched it in a hurry. Alex came closer, the moonlight illuminated the dark spots on the fabric.

- Blood," he whispered, and his voice was almost inaudible. - Someone was watching us.

Victor nodded, his face impassive, as if he had expected this all along.

- And he still does," he muttered.

Deep in the woods something appeared that caught their attention. The silhouette of an old house emerged from the shadows, its shape resembling a gnarled skeleton - the roof was sunken and the walls were covered in the blackness of dampness and oblivion.

As they approached the building, Alex felt his heart begin to beat faster. The door, which was barely holding on its rusty hinges, seemed to invite them in. Victor gave him a brief look and pushed open the door, which opened with a protracted groan, like a warning scream.

Inside, they were greeted by a darkness so thick that it seemed almost material. The smell of mustiness and mold mingled with something metallic, reminiscent of blood. Moonlight streamed in through the broken windows, casting grotesque shadows on the floor that vibrated with every movement.

Victor moved first, his steps quiet but firm. Alex followed him, trying not to think about what might be in the darkness.

In the corner of the room stood a sunken couch, its upholstery was rubbed, and something that looked like dried stains could be seen on the surface. The walls were covered with inscriptions that looked like Latin phrases.

- "Aeternitas nocet" - read Alex aloud, feeling a cold shiver run down his spine.

Victor smiled faintly, his face was now a half-shadow.

- Eternity hurts," he translated. - Interesting choice of words.

Suddenly there was a crackling sound in the air, as if someone had stepped on something fragile. Alex turned sharply, but saw only movement in the shadows.

- We are not alone here," he said quietly, and his voice was tight as a string.

Victor nodded.

- We are never alone. Remember this.

Alex raised his head, feeling the chill seep into his bones, heavy as lead, shrouding him like an invisible shroud.

- Can you smell the stench? - he whispered, inhaling air saturated with the smell of dampness, mold and something deeper, something that reminded him of corruption.

Victor did not answer immediately. His gaze, sharp and unyielding, combed through the darkness. His eyes glittered in the twilight, as if they were torches hidden in his skull.

- We must be careful," he finally replied, and his voice was quiet, almost intimate. - Whatever it is, he doesn't want us to be here.

Their footsteps, muffled by thick dust, echoed deafeningly off the damp-covered walls. The corridor seemed to stretch into infinity, and the moonlight streaming in through the battered windows drew shadows resembling grotesque silhouettes on the walls. Alex had the impression that the walls were pulsating, as if the place was breathing, living, watching.

They reached a room at the end of the corridor. The door was barely ajar, as if inviting them in. When Alex opened it, the air inside was heavier, suffused with tension. His gaze was caught by an inscription carved on the wall, the letters jagged, as if stamped with the force of anger.

- "Mors certa, hora incerta," he read aloud, the words flowing from his mouth like stones thrown into a well.

- Death certain, the hour uncertain. - Victor replied.

The vibration of the phrase filled the room, as if someone had etched it not only into the wall, but also into the very atmosphere of the place. Alex turned to Victor, expecting some kind of response.

- Warning," said Victor, coming closer. His face was impenetrable and his voice as dry as ash. - Or a clue.

Their attention was drawn to a crate standing in the corner. Alex approached cautiously, each speck of dust seeming to dance in the moonlight before falling on his shoes. When he opened the lid, the hinges creaked, as if protesting. Inside was an old map, its edges frayed and the paper saturated with moisture until it entered his hands.

- A map of the forest," muttered Alex, looking at the outlines outlined with thin lines that crisscrossed like veins in the body.

Victor looked over his shoulder. His breathing was quiet, but he could feel the tension in it.

- This could be it," he said, pointing with his finger to a point marked with a red dot on the map.

The musty smell became almost overwhelming, mixing with a faint metallic aftertaste in the air. Alex felt as if the whole house was trying to suck them in, become part of their skin, thoughts.

- Let's go on," Victor chuckled, but his voice was strained, as if every word was a blade ready to be used.

In the next room, they spotted a chest of drawers that stood in the shadows, almost blending into the darkness. A book rested on its top, and its surface was so covered with dust that it seemed an integral part of the furniture. Alex raised his hand, touched the cover, and an electric current passed through his palm - not like an electrical impulse, but like the sensation of being drawn into something deeper, stranger.

- It's strange," he whispered, his voice almost lost in the darkness.

He opened the book, the pages rustled under his fingers like dry leaves, and the letters on the pages seemed to pulsate, to change shape. He knew the language, but at the moment he couldn't recognize it.

Victor stood behind him, leaning over to look at the book.

- Record," he said dryly, and his breath smelled of nicotine and something bitter, like regret. - But what?

Alex turned page after page, and with each turn of the paper he felt the tension in the room increase. The letters danced before his eyes, creating images, memories that did not belong to him.

- It's ... impossible," he finally choked out, feeling his heart pounding in his chest.

- Anything is possible," replied Victor, and his voice sounded like an echo from the depths. - In this place, reality is just one of many masks.

Both were silent for a while, listening to the deafening silence of the house, which seemed to pulsate like an organism. The book rested between them, open to a page that seemed to stare at Alex as intensely as Victor did. The room felt the weight not only of their presence, but of something that had still been here for a long time. Something that did not want to be discovered.

On one of the last pages of the book, Alex noticed a drawing that etched itself in his mind like the image of a forgotten nightmare. It was a figure that resembled his - but not quite. Fire surrounded her body, creating what looked like a halo of destruction. Darkness and flames merged into one, and their dynamics even seemed to pulsate, as if the image lived on the pages of a book. The inscription under the drawing, in an ancient script, was both beautiful and sinister. Alex could barely read it, but his mind, which now seemed capable of things previously impossible, began to assemble the letters into meaning.

- Victor... it's me," whispered Alex, holding the book so tightly that his knuckles turned white. - But... what does it mean? What is this place? And what is the curse?

Victor, who had previously stood in the shadows, came closer. His face, half-lit by the faint moonlight, betrayed a mixture of fascination and anxiety.

- I don't know... - he said in a voice that more resembled the roar of a wolf than human speech. - But this is not a coincidence. Nothing here is one.

Victor ran his finger over the pages of the book, as if he wanted to feel the texture of the centuries that had seeped into the parchment.

- It's a curse," he added quietly, looking at the drawing. - It is a warning, but also a foreshadowing.

Alex felt as if the darkness of the room was tightening around him. The image seemed to walk the line between reality and vision.

- Why me? Why now? - he asked, as if this question would relieve him of the responsibility that seemed to be weighing more and more heavily on his shoulders.

Victor sighed deeply, his breath piercing the air as if he himself was born of smoke and ash.

- Maybe you are the key," he replied thoughtfully. - Or maybe a catalyst. This book... These symbols... "The Flame of the Absolute."

Alex looked at him questioningly, as if just naming these flames would open the door to further explanations.

- Legend has it that it is a fire that destroys not only the body, but also the soul," Victor continued. - This is no ordinary flame. It is something primordial. Born at the moment when time and space first separated.

Alex felt his heart speed up. Thoughts swirled like crazy, building scenarios whose ending he could not foresee.

- Is it... could it be ... me? - He asked quietly, as if afraid of the answer.

Victor looked him straight in the eyes, his gaze was like steel - cold, penetrating, merciless.

- If so... then God help us," he finally replied, "that means you are more than you thought.

Alex closed the book, and the dust that rose into the air seemed to dance to the rhythm of his accelerated breathing.

- We have to understand it," he announced with determination. - We have to find out what it all means. Let's go.

Victor nodded, but his face betrayed that he doubted they really wanted to know the answers.

In silence they moved through the forest, the darkness around them was as thick as pitch. Every rustle seemed to be the sound of something unknown, something that was watching them from hiding. When they reached the edge of the forest, they looked at the lights of the city spilling like liquid gold over the dark streets.

In the distance they saw a figure - slender, moving with a strange grace, as if her steps did not touch the ground. They followed her in silence until she disappeared around the corner of one of the buildings.

- It's not a coincidence," said Alex, not taking his eyes off the spot where the figure disappeared. - Whoever it is knows more about us than we'd like.

Victor looked at Alex, and a shadow of a smile appeared on his face, which did not herald anything good.

- So let's find him," he said. - It's time for us to know the truth.

As they moved through the streets of the city, they felt that every step brought them closer to uncovering the mystery, but at the same time exposed them to something they could not fully understand.

They arrived at an abandoned factory on the outskirts of the city, a place that seemed to pulsate with its own alien life. Darkness enveloped the metal beams like a sinister lover, and the smell of the past - grease, oil and rust - saturated the air with the weight of memories of past production and human effort. The door creaked open slowly, as if to warn of entering a world that had long since abandoned its place in linear reality.

Inside, the darkness was almost palpable, and Alex lit the way with his phone's pale flashlight. Its bluish light exposed sections of graffiti-covered walls, corroded machinery and abandoned tools that seemed as dead as the corridors themselves. Each step echoed deafeningly, as if the factory was trying to talk to the intruders, warning them of what awaited next.

They walked in silence, and the ominous rustle of the wind echoed in the background as it slipped through cracked windows and rusted pipes. Each sound seemed more ominous than the last. The air grew thicker and thicker, as if the soul of the place was slowly consuming them, forcing them to confront their own demons.

Finally, they reached a large hall where an old generator was still running, casting a faint, flickering light that pulsed like a dying breath. The sound of its operation - low, rhythmic - seemed like a living entity whose presence set Alex and Victor's hearts into an unhealthy gallop. In this surreal setting, shadows danced across the walls, weaving themselves into shapes that seemed to stare back at them from hiding.

However, it was not the generator that caught their attention. In the corner of the hall, almost blending into the darkness, stood a figure. It stood motionless, yet its presence filled the entire space. Alex felt his heart speed up and the air seemed suddenly more viscous and difficult to draw in. Every hair on the back of his neck stood up, as if his body knew it was approaching something it could not comprehend.

The figure seemed inhuman in its subtlety. Her body was enveloped in shadow, as if the darkness itself wanted to protect her. The eyes - glowing like a pair of fiery lanterns - stared at them, piercing the space in an almost painful way. The creature's movements were slow, fluid, almost majestic, as if time flowed differently around her, as if she were suspended between seconds, existing in the cracks of reality.

- Can you feel it? - whispered Alex, barely moving his lips. His voice was a thin thread that barely broke through the density of the surrounding atmosphere.

Victor nodded, and his gaze became even more steely, focused. He was ready, although Alex knew that at the moment even Victor did not understand what they were dealing with.

They approached slowly, each step sounding like a snare drum heralding inevitable disaster. Alex's flashlight trembled in his hand, casting a pale glow on the figure that brought out sinister details from the shadows of her . She was both beautiful and terrifying - a silhouette so perfect that it seemed unreal, yet filled with something indefinable, primal. Her skin seemed to pulsate with a subtle glow, as if it were made of liquid metal that changed depending on the angle of the light.

Victor stopped, still staring at the creature. There was a glint of something in his eyes, which Alex interpreted as fascination mixed with horror.

- We know you are here," Victor spoke, his voice confident, deep, though barely audible. - Come out of the shadows and show yourself.

The figure did not move immediately. Seconds passed - maybe hours, time in this place seemed something relative. And then it took a step forward. The quiet sound of its movement resembled breaking branches or the wheezing breath of the wind on a winter night. She was getting closer, and Alex felt his stomach contract in spasms of anxiety.

- Who are you? - he asked, though his voice sounded more like a whisper of fear than a question.

The figure stopped. Its fiery eyes rested on him, and its mouth twisted in a smile that had no warmth in it. It was the smile of a predator that had just found its prey.

Suddenly the space around them thickened, as if reality itself had collapsed into itself, and the air was filled with the weight of something whose presence was unbearable. A shadow spread like a stain, creeping into every nook and cranny of the room, absorbing light and muffling all sound. The being, surrounded by darkness, seemed to pulsate, its contours flickering like something suspended between existence and nothingness. Its lips twitched, barely visible in the gloom, and its gaze, razor-sharp, pierced deep into the very depths of their souls.

- You got me. Well, it happens to the best.

The voice resounded like a harsh murmur, creaking at the edge of perception. It was both quiet and pervasive, as if its source was everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

Alex held his breath, looking at her, as if trying to find a meaning in this figure that no reasonable person should look for. Her eyes, shining with a cold, ominous light, seemed to consume all space, like two cosmic portals leading into infinite darkness. Her hands, tucked behind her back, seemed to be more than tools - as if they hid a secret, the solution of which could shatter the world into pieces.

- Who are you? - Alex managed to croak out, though his voice was stifled, almost lost in that ever-present silence.

The creature tilted its head, and a smile appeared on its lips. It had no warmth in it, only coldness and a sneer that was almost physically felt in the air. Its body seemed to float in space, detached from the laws of physics, as if it were a marionette whose strings are held by something invisible.

- Your fear.

The words fell on him like a guillotine blade, their weight crushing, their intent impossible to ignore. Victor stood stiffly, as if his body was preparing for the inevitable. Alex threw him a quick glance, looking for a clue in his eyes, but Victor only pressed his lips together, unmoved, though his gaze betrayed something else - anger or curiosity perhaps?

- Fear? - Alex tried again, although the tone of his voice was now more tired than firm. - What does it mean? What are you doing here?

The figure responded with a sound that could not be interpreted. It was at once a laugh, a hiss and the sound of wind ripping through the deserted ruins of the factory.

- I am what drives you and what destroys you. Your dark thoughts. Your greatest fears. I am your mirror. And you are my reflection.

Victor raised an eyebrow, and his gaze went to Alex, as if he wanted to make sure the boy understood the weight of the words.

The shadow became almost tangible, wrapping around them like cold, merciless hands. The coldness it emitted was not ordinary - it was the chill of a dying world, the last breath of something that had long since lost its place in the universe.

- I am here to fulfill your destiny," the voice continued, almost singsongy yet ominous. - Where the light ends, my domain begins. I appear when you wake up, when you fall asleep, when you begin to doubt. And I am with you, even now.

And then, as if nature wanted to remind them that they never have full control, the creature dissolved. There was no fanfare, no scream, not even a subtle sound. It simply disappeared, leaving behind a void that seemed to fill the entire space.

Victor cursed under his breath, his voice sounding like the noise of broken branches.

- What the hell was that? - he asked, though an answer seemed impossible.

Alex looked at him, but the words stuck in his throat. He knew one thing - what they saw was neither a dream nor a figment of their imagination. This thing was real, as was the chill of the night around them and the shadows that now seemed denser, more tangible.

- I don't know, but we have to do something about it. This thing can't stay here.

Their steps, now quick and full of determination, carried them back toward the exit. Leaving the factory, they felt the weight of not only the darkness that surrounded them there, but also something much greater - a mystery that was more terrifying than anyone could have imagined. In silence, they made their way toward Victor's hideout, deep in their thoughts, where they spun scenarios that seemed as improbable as they were possible.