Chapter 8: The Truth Unveiled

Kevin Parker stood in the corridor on the third floor of Oak Academy, his facial muscles twitching with rage. He glared at Carl, his voice dripping with palpable disdain. "You're a goddamn useless piece of shit! Foster's been absent from work for a week, and as a security guard, you don't have a clue where he is?"

In my sight, Parker's corpulent frame overlapped with that of a Victorian - era prison warden. The ghostly figure was lashing an faceless inmate with a chain. I couldn't help but sneer. Having died eighteen times, I had long since seen through such dark aspects of human nature.

"Move aside," I said calmly, my voice devoid of emotion. Parker was taken aback for a moment. Clearly, he hadn't expected this once - meek subordinate to display such assertiveness. Just as he opened his mouth to continue his tirade, I simply shoved him aside with such force that he stumbled and crashed into the wall.

Sarah Bennett let out a terrified shriek. But I had no time to spare for such distractions. My gaze was completely riveted by what lay on Harrison's desk - a parchment scroll that glowed with an eerie light, the Spirit Scroll. In my view, fine - detailed runes flowed across the surface of the scroll, forming contorted patterns that made one dizzy just by looking at them.

I quickly strode to the desk and unfurled the scroll. The parchment emitted a faint musty odor, starkly contrasting with the disinfectant smell of the modern office. The ink was dark red, as if it had been written with the blood of some creature. But what made me catch my breath in an instant was the beginning of the letter:

"Dear Mike:

If you're reading this letter, it means you've accepted our invitation. Perhaps you don't know yet, but you were chosen not by accident. In Room 520 of Area C in St. John's Psychiatric Hospital, there are crucial records regarding Specters. There, you'll find the truth. But remember, the truth often comes with choices. When you stand at the crossroads of fate, listen to the voice within your heart.

Dr. James Windchaser"

Mike Anderson? The FBI's Supernatural Investigation Division? My mind raced. This letter was clearly not addressed to me, yet it inadvertently revealed a staggering fact - the FBI actually had a division dedicated to dealing with Specters. And more importantly, this division seemed to have some connection to Oak Academy.

I carefully folded the letter and stuffed it into the inner pocket of my suit. Regardless of who the letter was originally intended for, it was now in my possession. Beyond this curse - like ability to see Specters, I had finally found a potential breakthrough.

The moment I finished reading the letter, a chill crept up the back of my neck along my spine. Out of the corner of my eye, a corner of the office suddenly warped, and the modern decor began to intermingle with Victorian - era medical apparatus. But what was even more conspicuous was Parker. He was blocking the door, his face contorted into a menacing expression. "Foster, you're screwed! I'll have security toss you out, and then..."

His threat came to an abrupt halt. The LED lights overhead suddenly emitted an ear - piercing hum, like the whisper of some unknown being. The lights started to flicker erratically, casting eerie shadows on the office walls. Those shadows seemed to possess a life of their own, slowly writhing on the surface.

"Another power outage?" Parker roared angrily. "Carl! Go check the backup generator!"

But I had already noticed a more significant change - St. John's Psychiatric Hospital, which had originally overlapped with the modern building, was vanishing. The outlines of those Victorian - era structures were growing hazy, like a mirage disappearing at low tide. I took out my phone and turned on the flashlight, looking around, yet I could only see the ordinary office space.

Something's wrong.

I quickly dashed out of the office and headed straight for the second floor. There were chaotic footsteps behind me. Parker, Carl, and Sarah were following me. Throughout this process, the darkness was spreading at an unnatural pace, like some sentient liquid, engulfing all sources of light.

The scene on the second floor was disconcerting.

The employees were gathered in the corridor, using their phones for illumination. Strangely, those beams of light seemed extremely dim, as if suppressed by some invisible force. Some were complaining about unsaved files, while others were discussing whether there had been a power surge. Everything seemed so ordinary.

"I'll go check the power distribution room," Tom Richards volunteered. "Don't worry, power outages are common in these old buildings. It's no biggie." With that, he walked towards the stairwell at the end of the corridor, the light of his phone swaying in the darkness.

I stood where I was, sensing the abnormality in the air. This darkness, although discomforting, was entirely different from the sheer terror and oppression of The Wife. It was more like a deceptive guise, like a spider's web, waiting for prey to fall into it. After experiencing the extreme horror of The Wife, my intuition for danger had become extremely acute.

Just then, a heart - rending scream echoed from the stairwell, followed by the dull thud of a heavy object hitting the ground. The corridor fell silent instantaneously, and only Sarah's sobbing was clearly audible.

"Steve!" Carl shouted. "Go see what's going on!"

The young security guard hesitated for a moment but still walked towards the darkness with his flashlight raised. His figure was quickly swallowed up, and the beam of light seemed so feeble in the darkness. One minute passed, two minutes passed, five minutes passed... There was no more sound.

In this deathly silence, I saw the darkness in the corridor start to flow, as if there were some creatures swimming within it. Although it couldn't compare to The Wife, this premeditated setup was equally perilous. And in those dimensions invisible to ordinary people, ghastly faces were emerging from the walls, greedily eyeing this human panic.

The real hunt was about to commence.