Chapter 27: The Red Door

Nathan stood before the door, his pulse hammering in his ears. The air was thick with a suffocating stillness, broken only by the relentless whispers that echoed in his mind. The door was unlike anything else in the factory—a deep, blood-red color that seemed to pulsate with life. It was old, its surface marred by scratches as if something had desperately tried to claw its way out… or perhaps, something had tried to keep others from entering.

The whispers grew louder, each one urging him forward.

"Open it…"

"The truth lies beyond…"

"They're waiting for you, Nathan…"

Nathan's breath hitched as he stepped closer. The door radiated an unnatural warmth, and the closer he got, the more his mind screamed for him to turn back. But he couldn't. Not now. He was too close to the answers he had sought for so long. His mother's diary had hinted at something buried beneath the factory—a secret that had consumed his father and now threatened to consume him.

His hand hovered over the rusted handle, slick with sweat. The whispers pressed in, their voices tangled and distorted, creating a symphony of madness that gnawed at the edges of his sanity.

"You have to know…"

"They'll never let you leave unless you open it…"

Nathan squeezed his eyes shut, his mind racing. Every instinct screamed at him to run, but he couldn't escape the pull of the door. It was as if it had rooted itself into his very soul, binding him to its secrets. His fingers brushed the handle, and a jolt of icy energy shot through his arm, making him recoil.

He staggered back, heart pounding, but the door remained unmoved—waiting, watching.

"Damn it…" Nathan muttered under his breath, wiping his clammy palms against his jeans. His mind was a battlefield of conflicting emotions—fear, curiosity, and an overwhelming need to know the truth. The factory had taken so much from him. He couldn't let it win. Not now.

With renewed determination, Nathan grasped the handle and twisted it.

The door groaned in protest as it swung open, releasing a gust of cold, stale air that reeked of decay and forgotten memories. The darkness beyond was impenetrable, a void that seemed to swallow the light from his flashlight as soon as it touched it.

Nathan's throat tightened, but he stepped inside.

The air was heavier here, pressing down on him like a weight. His footsteps echoed eerily, bouncing off unseen walls. The beam of his flashlight flickered as if struggling against the oppressive darkness. The walls were lined with faded, peeling wallpaper—once white but now stained with streaks of crimson that dripped down like veins.

As Nathan moved deeper, the whispers shifted, becoming clearer.

"He was here…"

"You're close…"

"It won't let you leave…"

Nathan's breath caught as he spotted something ahead—a table, old and worn, standing in the center of the room. On it lay an object that made his blood run cold.

A small, rusted key.

He approached it slowly, the weight of the moment crushing down on him. His fingers trembled as he picked up the key. It was cold, unnervingly so, as if it had been submerged in ice. The moment it touched his skin, a wave of memories flooded his mind.

Flashes of his father, standing before this very door. His mother, pleading with him to stop. And then… the screaming. The echo of his father's voice, laced with agony, reverberated through Nathan's mind.

"NO! STOP! DON'T OPEN IT!"

Nathan stumbled back, gasping for air, the key clutched tightly in his hand. His vision blurred as the room around him seemed to ripple and distort. The walls pulsed like a living organism, the crimson streaks spreading and throbbing as if responding to his presence.

"You've come too far, Nathan…"

"It won't let you leave now…"

Nathan's heart pounded as he turned toward the far end of the room. There, partially hidden by shadows, was another door—smaller, less imposing, but radiating an unsettling energy. The key in his hand felt heavier now, as if whatever lay beyond that door was pressing its presence into his very bones.

He approached cautiously, the whispers now a steady hum in his ears. The door was plain, unremarkable, but the air around it was thick with malice. His hand shook as he inserted the key into the lock.

The mechanism clicked.

The door swung open, revealing a spiral staircase descending into darkness.

Nathan's throat went dry. Of course. Nothing was ever straightforward in this cursed place. His flashlight barely pierced the gloom as he began his descent. The air grew colder with each step, and the whispers followed him, growing more distorted the deeper he went.

"You shouldn't be here…"

"Turn back before it's too late…"

"It's waiting…"

Nathan's jaw clenched. He couldn't stop now. He had come too far, endured too much. The truth was down here—he could feel it.

The staircase ended in a cavernous chamber, its walls carved from ancient stone, pulsating with a faint red glow. At the center stood an altar, slick with something dark and viscous. Above it hung a figure—a man bound by chains that seemed to be fused with the stone itself.

Nathan's heart stopped.

"Dad?"

The figure's head lolled forward, and though the face was gaunt and distorted by years of suffering, Nathan recognized the eyes.

"Nathan…" The voice was barely a whisper, but it was his father's.

Nathan stumbled forward, tears blurring his vision. "I'm here… I'm here!"

But as he approached, the air shifted, and a low, guttural growl echoed through the chamber.

"Too late," the voice hissed from the shadows.

The red glow intensified, and the altar began to pulse. The chains holding his father rattled violently as if whatever force had imprisoned him was tightening its grip.

"Run…" His father's voice was barely audible, but the urgency was clear. "It… it feeds on us. On our pain. You can't let it take you too."

Nathan's heart clenched as he looked at his father, the man who had sacrificed everything to protect him.

"No," Nathan whispered, his resolve hardening. "Not this time."

The ground trembled as the shadows in the chamber thickened, coiling like serpents. The entity that had haunted his family for generations was no longer hiding.

It was here.

Nathan's grip on the key tightened. He wasn't leaving without the truth. And if the factory wanted to consume him…

It would have to fight.