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 27: What Crawled Through

The air in the prison was thick—heavy with something Ian couldn't name. The spirals carved into the walls pulsed like veins, their dim glow offering no comfort. He could still hear the faint hum in his skull, growing louder with each second.

Then—the sound.

Something shifting in the darkness behind them.

Ian's breath caught in his throat. He turned slowly, his flashlight beam cutting through the dust-choked air. Evelyn was already moving, gun raised, her stance steady despite the pain in her ribs. Clara gripped Eleanor's notebook like a lifeline.

At first, Ian thought it was just the sand settling. Then he saw it—a shape in the dim light.

The thing that had fallen with them was trying to stand.

Its limbs bent wrong, joints twisting unnaturally as it struggled to rise. Its body was wrapped in something that looked like flesh but wasn't—it pulsed, shifting like liquid trying to hold a solid form. The spirals on its skin glowed with the same eerie light as the walls, burning beneath its surface like molten metal.

Then it turned its head.

No eyes. No mouth. Just a smooth, featureless mask of bone.

But this thing wasn't watching. It was hunting.

Ian didn't think. He grabbed Clara's arm and ran.

Evelyn fired—three clean shots. Each one hit, the sound ricocheting through the hollow space. The thing jerked with every impact, its form shuddering, but it didn't fall. Instead, it tilted its head, as if curious.

Not like a person. Not even like an animal.

One second it was standing, the next it was rushing forward, its limbs snapping into motion, dragging itself toward them in a blur of unnatural movement. The spirals on its body flared as it closed the distance.

The corridors twisted around them, passageways stretching into endless dark. The architecture made no sense—some halls led upward, others spiraled into the ground, as if the entire place was shifting, changing. The prison was alive.

And it wasn't built to keep them safe.

"Where are we going?!" Clara gasped, trying to keep pace.

"The Gate!" Ian called over his shoulder. "If this thing got out, maybe that's where we can put it back!"

Evelyn didn't argue. She reloaded as she ran, her breaths coming sharp and fast. Behind them, the thing gained ground.

Then the humming in their skulls changed.

It wasn't random anymore. It had rhythm. A pattern.

Clara's eyes widened. "It's waking up more of them."

Ian didn't want to turn around. He didn't need to. He could hear it. More footsteps.

The Watchers weren't standing still anymore.

They were moving.