Book I: The Night Shift

"Late nights at the office, deadlines looming, the world quiet save for the hum of fluorescent lights. Such nights are familiar to many, aren't they?" Master Renton Howling's voice slips through the shadows, smooth and menacing. "But what if, dear reader, you stayed too late? What if, in the silence, you discovered something you were never meant to see?"

He steps into view, his black eyes gleaming like dark pools of ink. "This is the tale of Harriet Jones, a simple secretary working late at her firm. An ordinary night that becomes something far more sinister. Because, you see, not all secrets are meant to be uncovered. And once you know too much... well, there's only one way out."

His lips curl into a thin, sharp smile. "Let me show you the darkness that lies just beneath the surface. Take the elevator down, won't you?"

With a flicker of candlelight, the room fades into shadow.

The Night Shift

The clock on Harriet Jones' desk read 11:23 PM . The office was deathly quiet, the usual hum of chatter and phones replaced by the soft ticking of the clock and the muted clacking of her keyboard. She rubbed her tired eyes, trying to shake off the exhaustion that had settled in hours ago.

Everyone else had gone home. The office, with its sleek, modern furniture and cold fluorescent lights, felt like a tomb after hours. Harriet stared at the glowing screen in front of her, the bright letters of her work report beginning to blur together.

"Just a few more minutes," she muttered to herself, her fingers tapping wearily at the keys.

She hated working late, but there had been no other choice. The firm, Craven & Sterling , was relentless with deadlines. If you didn't get the work done, you could be replaced. And Harriet needed this job.

Finally, she finished the last sentence, her tired eyes scanning the screen one more time before she hit "send." With a relieved sigh, she closed her laptop and stood, grabbing her bag. The elevator at the end of the hall beckoned, promising a quick escape to her apartment and a well-deserved night of sleep.

As she walked toward it, her heels clicking softly on the polished floor, she felt an odd chill in the air. The office had always been cold at night, but tonight, it felt... wrong. There was a strange heaviness, as though something unseen was watching her, waiting for her to leave.

She shook the feeling off, chalking it up to exhaustion. Get home, Harriet. You're just tired.

She pressed the elevator button and waited. The doors slid open with a soft chime, and she stepped inside, the familiar hum of the elevator welcoming her. She pressed the button for the ground floor and leaned back, her eyes fluttering shut for just a moment.

The doors slid shut, and the elevator began its smooth descent.

But then, the lights flickered.

Harriet's eyes snapped open. The elevator shuddered, jerking to a stop.

She frowned, her heart skipping a beat. "No, no, not now," she muttered, reaching for the panel. But before she could press anything, the lights flickered again, and the elevator began to move, but not down. It was going up.

The digital display blinked. 2... 3... 4... 5...

"What the hell?" she whispered, watching the numbers rise. She hadn't pressed any other buttons, so why was it going up?

The elevator continued its ascent, smooth and silent, the hum of the machinery the only sound in the confined space. Harriet's fingers hovered over the emergency button, but she hesitated. Maybe it was just a glitch.

6... 7... 8...

Her pulse quickened as the elevator passed her floor. She jabbed the ground floor button repeatedly, but nothing happened. The elevator didn't stop. It just kept going.

9... 10...

And then, it stopped.

The doors slid open with a soft chime, and Harriet found herself staring into a long, dark corridor she had never seen before. The walls were gray concrete, rough and unfinished, and the air that wafted in was cold, unnaturally cold.

Harriet hesitated, her stomach twisting with unease. She had never been to the tenth floor before. In fact, she wasn't even sure the building had a tenth floor. The firm's offices only occupied the first seven floors.

She stepped out of the elevator cautiously, peering down the corridor. A single flickering light illuminated the hallway, casting long, eerie shadows across the walls.

Suddenly, the elevator doors slid shut behind her with a loud clank.

Harriet spun around, her heart leaping into her throat. She pressed the elevator call button , but nothing happened. The elevator was gone.

She was alone.

Panic surged through her. Harriet's fingers trembled as she jabbed the button again and again, but it was no use. The elevator wasn't coming back.

Her breath quickened, the silence pressing in around her. What was this place? She had worked at Craven & Sterling for over three years, and yet she had never seen this floor.

She glanced down the corridor, the flickering light casting eerie shadows against the concrete walls. The air was heavy with the smell of something rotten, something sickly sweet. Harriet's stomach churned, and she forced herself to move, her feet dragging her down the dark hallway.

The further she went, the colder it got. Her breath puffed out in white clouds, and her skin prickled with the unnatural chill. At the end of the corridor, a heavy steel door loomed, slightly ajar. From behind it, Harriet could hear a soft, faint sound, almost like... whimpering .

Her heart pounded in her chest as she pushed the door open.

What she saw made her stomach lurch.

The room beyond was vast, stretching into darkness, but what was visible was enough to send a wave of terror crashing over her. People , dozens of them, were strung up against the walls, their arms and legs bound, crucified in grotesque, torturous positions. Some of them were decayed, their flesh rotting, maggots crawling over their bodies. But others... others were still alive.

Her colleagues, people she had known. Their eyes wide with terror, their skin pale and bloodless. Some of them had dried blood caked along their bodies, others were still bleeding, the crimson trails running down their skin, dripping onto the cold, damp floor.

One of them, Karen , a junior assistant Harriet had often worked with, was still conscious, her head slumped against her chest, blood oozing from a wound on her side. Her lips trembled as she mouthed something to Harriet, her eyes wide and pleading.

"Help..." Karen gasped, barely audible.

Harriet rushed forward, her mind spinning, her hands shaking as she tried to free her colleague. "Oh my God, Karen, what did they do to you? Hold on, I'll get you out!"

But before she could even reach Karen's bindings, a voice rang out from behind her. Cold, smooth, and filled with cruel amusement.

"Harriet..."

She froze, the blood draining from her face.

Slowly, she turned around.

Standing in the doorway was Mr. Halstead , her boss, the man who ran Craven & Sterling with an iron fist. His suit was perfectly tailored, his silver hair neatly combed, and his sharp, calculating eyes gleamed in the dim light. But there was something different about him now, something monstrous lurking beneath his composed exterior.

"Harriet," he repeated, his voice dripping with malice. "I didn't expect you here. You're not supposed to be in the basement. But now that you are..."

He stepped forward, his cold gaze locking onto Karen, who whimpered helplessly. Without warning, he pulled a gleaming knife from his pocket, twirling it in his hand.

Harriet's heart pounded in her chest as he approached Karen.

"No... please don't..." Harriet whispered, her body frozen with fear.

Mr. Halstead stopped in front of Karen, his lips curling into a cruel smile. "Your services are no longer required," he said softly, and in one swift motion, he sliced the blade across Karen's throat.

Harriet gasped, watching in horror as Karen's eyes widened in shock, her hands trembling as she tried to clutch her bleeding neck. She stared at Harriet, her eyes pleading for help, for salvation, but it was too late. Her body went limp, her head slumping forward as blood poured down her chest.

Harriet stumbled back, her mind reeling.

Mr. Halstead turned toward her, sniffing the air like a predator catching the scent of its prey. "Ah, Harriet... it seems you've stumbled onto something you shouldn't have. And now, I can't let you leave."

Harriet's instincts kicked in. Without thinking, she bolted for the door, her heart hammering in her chest. The cold air felt like knives against her skin, and the stench of decay clung to her as she sprinted back down the long, dark corridor. Behind her, she could hear Mr. Halstead's measured footsteps, unnervingly calm in their pursuit, like a predator confident its prey had nowhere to run.

Her breath came in ragged gasps as she reached the elevator, slamming her hand against the call button again and again. "Come on, come on!" she whispered frantically, glancing over her shoulder. The lights overhead flickered, casting eerie shadows across the walls, and for a moment, she saw him, Mr. Halstead, his figure slowly emerging from the dark, his face expressionless, his knife gleaming in the dim light.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, and Harriet threw herself inside, her trembling hands slamming the ground floor button.

"Please, please!" she begged, her voice shaking as the doors began to close.

But just as the doors were about to seal her in, a hand shot out, stopping them in their tracks.

Mr. Halstead.

He stood there, his face inches from the closing doors, his eyes dark and emotionless. A cold smile played on his lips as he looked at her. "You can't leave, Harriet. Not now."

The doors slid shut, separating them, and the elevator lurched into motion. Harriet's knees buckled with relief as the elevator began to descend. She could still feel his presence lingering outside, like a cold shadow creeping through her mind.

But just as she began to calm down, the elevator shuddered violently. The lights flickered, casting the small metal box into darkness for a split second before the bulbs flared back to life. Harriet's breath caught in her throat.

The digital display blinked, showing that she was no longer headed for the ground floor.

The elevator was moving up .

"What, no!" Harriet screamed, frantically pressing the ground floor button again. But the elevator ignored her, continuing its climb. 3... 4... 5... 6...

Her heart pounded as the elevator surged higher and higher, taking her farther away from her escape. The walls seemed to close in around her, the air growing thick and suffocating.

7... 8... 9... 10.

The elevator stopped.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Harriet stood frozen, her hand hovering over the button panel, terrified of what lay beyond the doors.

Then, with a soft chime, the doors slid open.

Harriet's breath caught in her throat as she looked out into the darkness. The air that wafted in was cold, far colder than before. The stench of rot and decay filled her nostrils, and her stomach lurched.

She wasn't on the tenth floor anymore.

She was in the basement .

The hallway before her was different now. The walls were darker, more decayed. Bloodstains smeared the concrete, and the flickering light overhead barely illuminated the horrifying scene that awaited her.

Bodies.

Dozens of them, strung up against the walls like grotesque decorations, their faces contorted in pain, their limbs twisted and bound in torturous positions. Some were nothing more than decaying husks, their skin gray and rotting. But others, oh God, others were still alive, barely clinging to life, their eyes wide with terror, their mouths twitching in silent screams.

Harriet stumbled backward, her mind reeling. This wasn't just a basement. It was a nightmare.

Her foot caught on something, and she fell hard, landing on the cold, slick floor. She gasped in pain, her hands trembling as she pushed herself up. But before she could get back to her feet, the elevator doors slammed shut behind her.

"No, no!" she screamed, rushing to the doors and pounding on them with her fists. "Let me out! Please, let me out!"

The elevator didn't respond.

Suddenly, the lights overhead flickered again, casting the basement in a strobe-like glow. The bodies on the walls seemed to move in the flickering light, their limbs twitching, their heads lolling. Harriet backed away, her heart racing, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps.

And then she heard it.

Footsteps.

Slow, deliberate footsteps, echoing down the hallway toward her.

She turned, her blood turning to ice as Mr. Halstead's figure emerged from the shadows, his cold eyes locking onto hers. The knife in his hand glistened with blood.

"I told you, Harriet," he said softly, his voice like a snake's hiss. "You can't leave. You've seen too much."

Harriet scrambled backward, her body shaking with fear. "Please... I didn't mean to... I won't say anything, I swear!"

Mr. Halstead's smile widened. "It's too late for that. You know our secret now. And we can't have that."

He moved toward her with terrifying calm, his footsteps echoing in the cold, dark room. Harriet's heart pounded in her chest as she looked for a way out, but there was none. The basement stretched on in every direction, a labyrinth of horror.

In a desperate attempt, she bolted past him, her legs carrying her toward the far end of the room where another door stood. But before she could reach it, Mr. Halstead was there, his hand grabbing her arm with inhuman strength. He yanked her back, throwing her to the ground.

She screamed as her head hit the cold, damp concrete, her vision spinning. Pain shot through her body as she tried to crawl away, but Mr. Halstead was already upon her.

He crouched beside her, his knife gleaming in the dim light. "Don't worry, Harriet. You'll make a fine addition to our collection."

She thrashed, kicking and clawing at him, but it was no use. He was too strong.

With terrifying precision, Mr. Halstead grabbed her by the throat and pulled her to her feet. He dragged her across the floor, past the mutilated bodies of her colleagues, until they reached an empty spot on the wall.

Harriet's eyes filled with tears as she realized what was about to happen. "Please... don't..."

But Mr. Halstead wasn't listening. He lifted her up and, with a sickening thud, slammed her back against the cold concrete wall.

Her head swam, her vision blurring as pain exploded through her body. She felt cold metal pierce her skin, driving through her arms and legs, pinning her to the wall.

The last thing she saw before her world went dark was Mr. Halstead's cruel smile.

"You'll be perfect here, Harriet. The rats will come for you soon."

Time passed in a blur of pain and darkness. Harriet's body was broken, impaled against the wall like a piece of meat on display. The cold air seeped into her bones, and the smell of death clung to her, suffocating her in its grip.

But she wasn't dead. Not yet.

Somewhere in the distance, she could hear the soft sound of scurrying feet. The rats were coming.

Tears filled her eyes as the pain in her limbs grew unbearable. She couldn't move. Could barely breathe. The only thing she could do was wait.

And then, they appeared.

Hundreds of rats, their eyes gleaming in the darkness, their teeth sharp and hungry. They scurried out of the shadows, their claws clicking against the cold floor as they drew closer.

Harriet's heart raced as the first rat leapt onto her leg, its teeth sinking into her flesh. She screamed, the sound echoing through the basement, but there was no one to hear her.

More rats came, swarming her body, biting and tearing at her skin. Their teeth gnawed at her flesh, ripping it away piece by piece, their tiny mouths filled with her blood.

Harriet screamed again, her voice hoarse, but the rats didn't stop. They covered her now, a living blanket of teeth and claws, consuming her inch by inch.

Her vision blurred, the pain too much to bear.

And then, darkness.

The following Monday, the office at Craven & Sterling was bustling as usual. The employees moved through their day, oblivious to the horrors that lay hidden beneath their feet.

At Mr. Halstead's desk, a new secretary stood, organizing files with a pleasant smile on her face. Karen , her name was. Young, bright, eager to impress.

She glanced at Mr. Halstead, who sat behind his desk, his eyes cold and calculating as always.

"Mr. Halstead? I haven't seen Harriet Jones today. Did she leave the firm?"

Mr. Halstead looked up from his paperwork, his face unreadable. For a moment, he didn't respond, simply watching her with those icy eyes, as though weighing his next words carefully.

Then, with a small, almost amused smile, he said, "Ah, Harriet. Yes, she was... reassigned to a better place."

The new secretary, Karen , nodded, taking his answer at face value. She had only been at the firm a few weeks and didn't know Harriet all that well. Still, there was something unsettling in the way Mr. Halstead spoke, something cold and final.

"Oh," Karen replied quietly, filing away a document. "I hope she's doing well, then."

Mr. Halstead's smile widened, a strange glint in his eyes. "Oh, I'm sure she is. She's in the perfect position now."

There was something in his tone that sent a chill down Karen's spine, but she quickly shook it off. She was probably just imagining things. After all, Mr. Halstead was known for his dry, business-like demeanor. There was no need to read into it.

Still, she couldn't help but glance over at the elevator as it chimed softly in the distance. It was just a normal elevator, she told herself. Just a regular office. But somewhere, deep down, a sliver of unease had planted itself in her chest.

As she turned back to her work, she caught Mr. Halstead watching her, his smile still in place, but his eyes... his eyes were something else. Cold, predatory, like a hunter sizing up its next target.

Karen swallowed hard and returned to her tasks, trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling growing in the pit of her stomach.

Behind her, Mr. Halstead quietly turned back to his paperwork, a satisfied look on his face.

Far below the office, in the cold, dark basement, Harriet's broken body hung limply against the wall. The rats had long since finished their gruesome feast, and now, all that remained was the echo of her screams, faint and distant, reverberating through the silent halls.

Her face, frozen in terror, stared out into the blackness, her eyes wide and unseeing. Her colleagues hung beside her, silent witnesses to the horrors that had taken place in the hidden depths of Craven & Sterling.

And so, the firm's dark secret remained safely buried, just out of sight, waiting for the next late-night worker to stumble upon it.

The elevator chimed once more.

Epilogue

Master Renton Howling steps forward, his shadowy form emerging from the darkness. His voice is smooth, laced with a hint of amusement as he addresses you directly.

"Ah, yes. Poor Harriet. She never stood a chance, did she? Some secrets, once uncovered, cannot be forgotten. And for those who find themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time, well... let's just say they become part of the secret."

He smiles, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. "So, dear reader, the next time you find yourself working late, alone in the office, beware. You never know what might be lurking just beneath the surface. After all, who's to say your firm isn't hiding a dark secret of its own?"

He chuckles softly, his voice fading into the darkness as he steps back into the shadows. "And remember, if you hear that soft chime of the elevator late at night... maybe it's best not to take the ride."

The candle flickers, and once again, the room is plunged into darkness.

The End