The Heart of the Asylum

Part 1: The Approach

The Hartwell Asylum loomed in the distance, its crumbling silhouette framed against a sky heavy with storm clouds. Lightning flashed across the horizon, illuminating the jagged edges of the building's decaying facade. The asylum had been abandoned for decades, but tonight, faint lights flickered in its windows, a clear sign that The Circle was expecting them.

Elliot adjusted the strap of his backpack, his fingers brushing against the hilt of the knife tucked into his belt. He glanced at Mara, who was crouched beside him behind a line of overgrown bushes. Her face was set, her eyes scanning the building with the precision of someone who had done this many times before.

"Guards at the main entrance," she whispered, nodding toward the figures silhouetted against the dim glow of the asylum's exterior lights. "They're armed, probably with more than just guns."

Denton snorted quietly, his broad frame hunched low to stay out of sight. "Ritual knives and glowing hocus-pocus symbols, right? Cute."

Mara shot him a glare. "Don't underestimate them. Those 'hocus-pocus symbols' will kill you faster than any bullet."

Elliot couldn't help but notice the tension between the two. Denton was clearly used to operating on his own terms, while Mara's no-nonsense approach left little room for negotiation. Elliot just hoped they could keep it together long enough to survive the night.

"What's the plan?" Elliot asked, his voice low.

"We split up," Mara said, her gaze still fixed on the building. "Denton and I will take out the guards at the entrance. You circle around to the west side and find a way in. Once we're inside, we regroup in the central hall."

Elliot hesitated. "And if something goes wrong?"

Mara turned to him, her expression unwavering. "Then you keep moving. No matter what."

Part 2: Entering the Asylum

Elliot crept along the west side of the asylum, his footsteps muffled by the damp earth. The whispers began almost immediately, faint and indistinct, like a breeze stirring leaves in the distance.

"Come closer."

"We've been waiting."

"You can't hide."

He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. The west wing of the building was in worse shape than the rest, its walls crumbling and overgrown with ivy. He spotted a window that had been shattered long ago, its jagged edges glinting faintly in the moonlight.

Elliot climbed through the opening, his movements slow and deliberate. The moment his feet hit the ground inside, a chill ran through him. The air was heavy and damp, carrying a faint metallic tang that made his stomach churn.

His flashlight cut through the darkness, illuminating a hallway that seemed to stretch endlessly in both directions. The walls were covered in peeling paint and graffiti, much of it resembling the symbols he'd seen at Ravenwood and Faraday.

"Alright," he muttered to himself. "Central hall. Let's do this."

Part 3: The Obelisk's Call

Elliot moved cautiously through the asylum, his flashlight beam flickering as though struggling to stay lit. The whispers grew louder the deeper he went, their voices overlapping in a chaotic symphony that made his head throb.

He turned a corner and froze. At the far end of the corridor, a faint glow emanated from an open doorway. The light pulsed rhythmically, like the beat of a heart.

Elliot's grip tightened on the flashlight as he approached, each step feeling heavier than the last. The doorway led into a large chamber, its walls lined with crumbling shelves and rusted medical equipment. At the center of the room stood the obelisk.

This one was different from the others he'd seen. It was taller, its surface smoother, and the symbols carved into it glowed with a sickly green light. The air around it seemed to ripple, distorting the space like a heat mirage.

Elliot stepped closer, his heart pounding. He could feel the obelisk's pull, a magnetic force that seemed to reach into his very soul.

"You've come so far," the whispers said, their tone almost soothing now. "Why stop here?"

A sudden noise behind him shattered the trance. Elliot spun around, his flashlight catching a figure in the doorway.

It was one of The Circle's guards, their face obscured by a hood. Without hesitation, the figure lunged at him, a blade gleaming in their hand.

Part 4: A Desperate Fight

Elliot barely had time to react. He dodged to the side, the blade slicing through the air inches from his chest. His flashlight clattered to the floor, its beam casting wild shadows across the room.

The guard moved with inhuman speed, their movements jerky and unnatural. Elliot grabbed the nearest object—a rusted metal tray—and swung it with all his strength. The impact sent the guard stumbling back, but they didn't fall.

The whispers surged, their voices rising in unison. "You cannot fight us."

Elliot's hand found his knife, and he gripped it tightly. The guard lunged at him again, but this time, Elliot was ready. He sidestepped the attack and drove the blade into their side.

The guard let out a guttural cry, their body convulsing as they collapsed to the floor. Elliot staggered back, his chest heaving as adrenaline coursed through his veins.

Before he could catch his breath, more footsteps echoed down the corridor.

Part 5: The Heart of the Asylum

Mara and Denton burst into the room, their faces grim. Mara's blade was slick with blood, and Denton carried a shotgun that looked as old as the asylum itself.

"We need to move," Mara said, her voice sharp. "They're swarming the building."

Elliot nodded, his gaze shifting to the obelisk. "That's it," he said. "That's what we came for."

Denton frowned, his eyes narrowing at the glowing structure. "That thing looks like it wants to eat us alive."

"Then let's make sure it doesn't," Mara said, pulling out the vial of liquid silver.

As she approached the obelisk, the room shook violently, the walls groaning as if the building itself were protesting their presence. The whispers became deafening, their voices merging into a single, resonant tone.

"You cannot stop the inevitable."

Mara poured the liquid silver onto the obelisk's surface, the substance hissing and bubbling as it made contact. The glow of the symbols dimmed, and the obelisk began to crack, its surface splitting apart.

The ground beneath them trembled, and the air grew thick with a choking, metallic scent. Elliot grabbed Mara's arm, pulling her back as the obelisk collapsed in on itself with a deafening roar.

The whispers stopped.

For a moment, the silence was absolute.

And then the screaming began.