crucifyheaven

Detective Ian Wren thought he had escaped the ghosts of his past, but the murder of Eleanor Montgomery pulls him into a web of deceit that threatens to unravel Hollow’s Edge. Eleanor was more than a philanthropist—she was the keystone of the town’s power dynamics. Her death exposes dark secrets tied to the elusive Crimson Hour Society, a shadowy group with ties to corruption and betrayal.

As Ian investigates, he uncovers layers of lies, each piece revealing deeper connections between Hollow’s Edge’s elite and Eleanor’s tragic demise. But the closer Ian gets to the truth, the more dangerous the game becomes. With each passing hour, Ian faces threats, red herrings, and the ghosts of his unsolved case—forcing him to confront his own failure and unravel the darkness hiding in plain sight.

In a town where trust is fleeting and redemption comes at a price, Ian must uncover the truth before the Crimson Hour strikes again.

The Crimson Hour

Chapter 26: The Awakening

The underground desert held its breath.

A deep silence swallowed the space, broken only by the whisper of shifting sand. Ian stood motionless, his heartbeat pounding in his ears, eyes fixed on the black box half-buried in the dunes.

Slow, deliberate flashes of red spiraled across its surface, each one quickening like a heartbeat stirred from slumber. Ian felt it before he heard it—a vibration, running through the sand, creeping into his bones.

"We shouldn't be here," Clara murmured.

Her fingers trembled over Eleanor's notebook, the brittle pages rustling as she scanned them, searching—desperate for an answer. But Ian could tell from her expression that there wasn't one. Not here.

Evelyn exhaled sharply, gun steady in her grip. "We need to move. Right now."

It slithered through the cavern, low and droning, burrowing into their skulls. Ian clenched his jaw, resisting the sudden pressure behind his eyes. The glow of the spirals deepened, shifting from dull amber to burning crimson.

Deep, mechanical, unnatural. A stirring of something vast beneath their feet.

A perfect spiral had begun to form around the box, grains of pale dust slipping downward as though being inhaled. The pull was slight at first, a mere shift beneath their boots.

The desert itself was collapsing inward.

There was no time to scream, no time to think—just the sensation of falling. The world spun, air rushing past as Ian tumbled through darkness. The sound of sand roared around him, drowning out everything except the frantic pounding of his own heart.

He hit the ground hard, his body slamming into something smooth, solid. Pain lanced through his ribs as the air was knocked from his lungs. He gasped, rolling onto his side, his fingers clutching at the strange floor beneath him.

She coughed, pushing herself up, her notebook still clutched in white-knuckled fingers. Sand dusted her hair and clothes, her breaths uneven.

"I'm here," he wheezed. His ribs ached, but nothing felt broken. "Evelyn?"

A muffled curse. Then a low, pained voice. "Alive. Somehow."

Ian forced himself to his knees, blinking through the dust. The cavern around them was wrong—not natural stone, but constructed. The walls were smooth, dark, lined with glowing spirals, pulsing in time with the deep hum in his skull.

He swept his flashlight across the space. The cavern stretched outward into hallways, long corridors that disappeared into blackness. They weren't in a cave.

They were in something buried beneath the desert.

At the far end of the corridor, looming like a silent sentinel—

Massive. Ancient. Its surface engraved with spirals identical to those on the black box. But these weren't sealed—they were open, twisting outward in an endless, shifting pattern that moved if Ian stared too long.

Clara's voice was barely a whisper. "This isn't a tomb."

Ian swallowed, his throat dry. "It's a prison."

Behind them, the sand shifted again.

Something else had fallen through.