Zofiowka Psychiatric Hospital

The Zofiowka Psychiatric Hospital, once a grand structure nestled deep in the woods of Poland, had long since fallen into disrepair. Its crumbling walls and overgrown grounds were a testament to the passage of time and the secrets it harbored within its decaying halls. It was here that the team had gathered, hoping to find answers to the mysteries that had plagued them since their encounter in Paris.

Ysabel glanced around, her unease growing. There was something about this place, something that felt wrong, like the hospital itself was alive, watching them.

"Did you feel that?" Ysabel asked, her voice hushed.

Carter frowned, "Yes, I felt it. This place... it gives me the creeps. But it's the best location we have for the research we're doing."

Ysabel nodded, but the sense of foreboding lingered. She could feel the pendant growing warmer against her skin, its pulsing light intensifying. It was as if it was reacting to something, something nearby.

"We need to be careful," Ysabel said, her voice tinged with urgency. "I have a feeling that whatever we're dealing with, it's not just the creatures outside. There's something else here—something older, more dangerous."

Carter's gaze hardened as he stood, his hand instinctively moving to the weapon at his side. "Then we'll be ready for it. Whatever it is, we won't let it take us by surprise."

As they prepared to move forward, the pendant around Ysabel's neck pulsed one last time, sending a shiver through her body. She could feel its power growing, connecting her to something ancient and evil. And as they stepped into the dimly lit hallway of the Zofiowka Psychiatric Hospital, a thick silence hung in the air, oppressive and heavy. The walls, once white and pristine, were now chipped and stained with the decay of time, as if the present and the past had somehow fused together in this forsaken place. The team moved cautiously, their footsteps echoing through the desolate corridors, the sound mingling with the faint, ghostly echoes of children's laughter that seemed to drift from the shadows.

The deeper they ventured, the more the line between reality and memory blurred. It was as if the horrors of the past had been etched into the very fabric of the building, and the sounds of children playing—innocent, yet tinged with something sinister—resounded from the depths of the decaying dormitory. The air was thick with the smell of damp and mold, mixed with something else, something that reeked of death.

They wound their way through the labyrinth of corridors, their unease growing with every step, until they finally reached the overgrown and desolate backyard. The air seemed colder here, as if the ground itself was rejecting their presence.

Here, in this very place, lay a mass grave—a dark secret buried beneath the earth. Hundreds of bodies, the victims of a terrible massacre during World War II, were interred in the soil, their lives brutally extinguished in an act of incomprehensible cruelty. Approximately 150 patients from the hospital had been executed at this site, their deaths a stark reminder of humanity's capacity for evil.

A palpable force of dread overtook the group as they stood on the site of such immense suffering. It was as though the ground beneath their feet was alive, pulsing with the memories of those who had perished here. Each of them felt it—memories not their own but seared into their minds by the weight of the place. Memories of joy, twisted by profound grief, surfaced unbidden, clawing at their sanity.

Some of the soldiers began to laugh, the sound manic and out of place in the eerie silence. Others dropped their weapons, their minds unraveling as they fell to their knees, howling in terror. The haunted history of the hospital had seeped into their bones, blurring the line between reality and nightmare.

Suddenly, a dark figure emerged from behind one of the graves. It was a child—a mutated child, its body grotesquely deformed. Horns protruded from its forehead, and its hands were misshapen, twisted into claws. A long, reptilian tail dragged behind it as it shuffled forward, its head hung low, clutching a tattered doll in one hand.

The sight of the child was both heartbreaking and terrifying. Its eyes, though sewn shut, seemed to see everything, and when it spoke, its voice was unnervingly clear, resonating with a hollow, childlike innocence that sent chills down their spines.

"Father is not here," the child said in perfect English, its voice carrying a note of eerie calm. "Do you want to play with me?"

The soldiers froze, their breath caught in their throats. But before they could react, the child's demeanor changed. It tilted its head, as if listening to something only it could hear, and then suddenly switched to German, addressing the soldiers with a voice that was no longer childlike but authoritative and commanding.

"Setzt sie auf und verbrennt sie mit dem Flammenwerfer!!"

"Sergeant, line them up and burn them with the flame thrower!"

General Carter stepped, putting himself between the child and his team. He tried to reason with it, his voice steady despite the dread clawing at his heart. "Where is your father? Will you come and play with us?" he asked, trying to coax the child into compliance.

But the child's response was anything but compliant. As the soldiers attempted to grab it, the mutant let out a shrill, piercing cry. With a sudden, terrifying burst of energy, it flung the soldiers into the air as if they were rag dolls. The display of telekinesis so powerful that it sent shockwaves through the group.

The child, fully aware of its own power, smirked before fleeing into the darkness, its footsteps echoing through the silent night. None of them could react in time; the creature was gone before they could mount a proper pursuit.

But there was no time to regroup. Suddenly, from the shadows, dozens of creatures emerged—grotesque and nightmarish, their forms twisted and monstrous. Like the child, these beings had sewn-on eyes, their arms abnormally long and ending in razor-sharp claws. Several tails trailed behind them, each one capable of piercing through flesh like a spear.

"Form a defensive circle!" General Carter shouted, his voice cutting through the rising panic. The soldiers quickly moved to protect Ysabel and the other civilians, their weapons raised and ready, but it was too late—the creatures charged forward in a frenzied attack.

Bullets tore through the air, screams of terror and defiance mingling as the battle raged. The soldiers fought desperately, but the creatures were relentless, their claws slicing through flesh with brutal efficiency. In a desperate attempt to protect Ysabel and her team of experts, General Carter threw himself in front of them, just as one of the creatures lunged at her throat with its claws.

When it was all over, the ground was littered with the bodies of the fallen. Some of General Carter's soldiers, including Harrison, lay dead, their bodies torn apart by the vicious creatures. Many others were severely injured, their wounds bleeding freely onto the cold earth. The creatures had vanished as quickly as they had appeared, leaving behind no trace of their presence.

Ysabel was badly shaken but still alive, thanks to General Carter's heroic actions. But there was no time to process what had happened. Before they could regroup, a sound shattered the night—a shriek so loud and piercing that it felt like it could split the earth in two. It began as a high-pitched scream and dropped into a deafening rumble that seemed to shake the very ground beneath their feet.

The sky above them split open, and lightning struck the earth with a blinding flash. From the crack in the sky, a figure descended, the creature that landed before them was a terrifying hybrid—a fusion of bull and human, its dark wings spread wide as it surveyed the group with cold, calculating eyes. It stood over seven feet tall, its muscular frame exuding raw power. In one hand, it gripped a sword wreathed in flames, the heat from the weapon so intense that it seemed to warp the air around it.

The air was suddenly filled with the pungent, sulfurous aroma of burning brimstone, a stench so overpowering that it lingered for minutes after the light dimmed. The creature's voice boomed through the darkness, a voice that carried the weight of centuries of disdain and malice.

"All humans stink of greed, of disease, of stupidity, of filth and death," it declared, its words seething with contempt.

A million smells, each more rancid than the last, seemed to billow from the doorway of the hospital, enveloping the group in a choking cloud of decay and corruption. The soldiers struggled to maintain their composure, their senses overwhelmed by the stench and the evil presence before them.

From the shadows, another figure emerged—a man dressed in clerical garb, his face obscured by the darkness. His voice thundered through the air as he addressed the creature, a hint of twisted delight in his tone. "Effreit," he commanded, "now you have my permission to play with them."

For a brief, horrifying moment, a metallic taste filled their mouths, like the bitter tang of blood or the taste of death itself. The creature, Effreit, raised its burning sword, and a bright light engulfed General Carter and his team. The heat was unbearable, searing their flesh as they screamed in agony. The last thing General Carter felt was the intense heat flooding his body before everything went black.

When Ysabel awoke, she was no longer in the courtyard of the hospital. She found herself locked in a dimly lit cell, her body strapped to what looked like an electric chair. Large metal spreaders were placed around her mouth, forcing her jaw open painfully wide. The air was thick with the scent of rust and decay, and she could hear the faint drip of water somewhere nearby.

As her vision cleared, she saw a small, grotesque figure hopping toward her. It was the mutant child from before, now holding a rusty water bucket filled with writhing worms. The child's face twisted into a maniacal grin as it approached, its sewn-shut eyes seemingly fixed on her.

"Father wants me to ask you something," the child said in a sing-song voice, its words punctuated by eerie giggles. "If it's 'yes,' you should look to the right, and if it's 'no,' to the left. Do you understand?"

Ysabel tried to scream, but the spreaders in her mouth made it impossible to speak. The child's laughter echoed off the walls as it grabbed a handful of the squirming worms and held them up to her face, the slimy creatures wriggling between its fingers.

"Will you play with me?" the child asked, its tone sweet yet sinister. "I want to play with you."

Ysabel's eyes darted wildly, searching for any means of escape, but there was none. The child continued its taunting, repeating the question over and over, its voice growing more frenzied with each repetition. "Will you play with me? I want to play with you. Will you play with me?" The mutant child's voice echoed in the confined space, becoming more insistent, more demanding, each word laced with an undercurrent of madness.

Ysabel's heart raced, her pulse pounding in her ears. The worms squirmed closer, inches from her face, their slick bodies glistening in the dim light. The child's head cocked to one side as if it were a doll whose strings had been twisted too tight, and it leaned in closer, the smell of rot and decay filling Ysabel's nostrils.

Just when she thought she could bear no more, when the terror and revulsion threatened to overwhelm her completely, there was a sudden, swift movement in the shadows. The bucket of worms clattered to the floor, the sickening sound of their bodies hitting the cold stone making Ysabel flinch. Then, in a horrifying instant, the mutant child's head snapped to the side, its neck making a grotesque cracking noise as it was wrenched violently, severed from its body.

The head hit the ground with a dull thud, rolling across the floor to rest against the wall. The child's body, now lifeless, slumped forward, collapsing in a heap at Ysabel's feet. Blood, black and thick, oozed from the stump of its neck, pooling on the ground in a viscous puddle.

Standing in the shadows, the figure of a man slowly emerged, his presence commanding and serene amidst the carnage. It was Gadriel. His eyes, deep and ancient, held a mix of sorrow and determination. He moved with the grace of a predator, his movements swift and purposeful as he approached Ysabel.

Gadriel leaned down and whispered something in her ear, his voice a gentle murmur that was barely audible over the chaos. Whatever he said, it was enough to make Ysabel's entire body relax, the tension draining from her limbs as if by magic. Her eyes fluttered shut, and within moments, she had fainted, her mind unable to process the events unfolding around her.