Eclipsara pov(first person point of view)
The elevator wasn’t just broken.
It was wounded. Which meant a lot of work to fix.(Wounded normally means injured, like a person or animal. In this context: The elevator isn’t just broken-it’s badly damaged, almost like it was hurt in a violent way. This makes it feel more dangerous and unstable.)
The large mechanical platform sat embedded(means something is stuck firmly inside something else. In context: The platform is jammed down into the floor instead of sitting normally, suggesting it was forced there.) in the floor in the same spot, surrounded by twisted metal(means metal that has been bent, warped, or mangled by force. In context: This shows the damage wasn’t gentle-it came from something powerful or violent.) and a collapsed outer housing that looked like it had been torn open rather than dismantled. (The elevator wasn’t carefully taken apart using tools. Something ripped it open roughly, as if with strength or force.)The faint, uneven beeping from the nearby machine continued in irregular intervals. Sparks snapped occasionally from exposed wiring-brief flashes of orange in the sterile white light. (very clean, empty, and lifeless.)
(The outer housing is the protective shell or casing around a machine. In context: It’s the elevator’s outer cover, which should normally protect the inner parts.)
I stepped closer, careful not to trip over loose cables.
“So,” I muttered. “That looks… fixable.”
Mira crouched beside the exposed panel, studying it quietly. Her tail flicked once in thought.
“I think I have a rough idea.”
I blinked at her. “You do?”
She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she stood and walked back toward the document room without another word.
“…Mira?”
“I’ll be back.” she called over her shoulder.
I stared at the elevator. Then at the hallway. Then back at the elevator.
“…Okay.”
The beeping continued.
Uneven.
Like it was impatient.
A few minutes later, Mira returned with a thin manual tucked under her arm and a small toolkit she must’ve found buried in one of the cabinets.
“You found that in there?” I asked.
She nodded. “There was only one room on this level. If there’s an elevator, there has to be a maintenance manual somewhere. No one builds something like this without instructions in case there's an unexpected problem.”
She crouched again, flipping the manual open and scanning quickly.
I stared at her.
“You just… thought of that?”
She shrugged lightly. “It seemed logical.”
I continued staring.
She glanced up at me. “What?”
“…Nothing. That’s just very smart.”
Mira’s tail twitched faintly. “It’s basic procedure.”
Right.
Basic procedure.
Sure.
She leaned closer to the exposed machinery, carefully setting the manual on the floor beside her. Her fingers moved slowly over the wiring, tracing connections without touching anything yet.(Tracing connections means following where wires go with your eyes or fingers. In context: Mira is mentally mapping how the machine is wired before touching anything, showing caution and skill.)
“Eclipsara,” she said calmly, eyes still scanning the diagram.(is a simplified drawing that shows how parts connect or work together. In context: Mira is comparing the drawing in the manual to the real machine to understand what’s wrong.) “Can you hand me that screwdriver? The smaller one.”
I immediately scrambled to grab it with my right hand-then fumbled slightly because my balance was still off.
“Got it.” I muttered, passing it to her.
She took it without looking away from the panel.
“Now the pliers.”(a hand tool used to grip, hold, bend, or cut things, usually small objects like wires or metal pieces. Mira wants the tool so she can grab or bend wires inside the elevator machine or pull something loose or tight without using her fingers.)
I froze.
“…Which one is that again?”
There were at least six different metal things in the toolkit, all sharp and intimidating in different ways.
Mira glanced over briefly, patient. “The one with the short jaws and the blue handles. It looks like it can pinch.”
I picked it up, hesitated. “This?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Sorry.”
“It’s fine. Don't worry.”
I handed them over.
She worked slowly.
Carefully.
No rushing. No panic.
She read a section of the manual. Compared it to the machine. Adjusted one wire. Tightened a bolt. Paused. Read again.
I didn’t interrupt.
Didn’t joke.
Didn’t ask questions.
The beeping shifted slightly in tone after one adjustment-less erratic.
Mira’s tail flicked again.
“Good.” she murmured under her breath.
Sparks snapped once more, but weaker this time.
She adjusted another cable, then carefully reconnected a loose conduit that looked like it had been partially ripped free.
The manual pages rustled softly as she turned one.
“Pass me that wrench.” she said.
I handed it to her without a word.
She tightened something deeper inside the collapsed housing, her arm disappearing almost entirely into the exposed cavity(A large hollow hole inside something.) of the machine.
For a moment, the beeping stopped.
We both froze.
Then it resumed.
Steadier.
Not stable.
But closer.
Mira slowly withdrew her arm and sat back on her heels.
“It was a power routing issue.” she said quietly. “And a damaged relay. I bypassed the relay temporarily. It won’t be permanent, but it should hold long enough.” (Mira rerouted the electricity around the broken part instead of fixing it fully. This is a short-term solution, not a permanent repair.)
(Power routing is how electricity is directed through a machine. In context: Electricity wasn’t flowing where it should, causing the elevator to malfunction. A relay is a small electrical switch that controls when power turns on or off in a system. In context: The relay was damaged, so power couldn’t move properly through the elevator.)
I stared at her.
“You just… figured that out.”
She closed the manual and stood.
“I read.”
The platform beneath us gave a faint mechanical hum.(The elevator is powered again. The sound suggests it’s alive, active, and working.)
Low.
Deep.
Alive.
I looked down at it.
“…Mira?”
“Yes?”
“If this thing drops us to our deaths-”
“It won’t.”
She stepped onto the platform.
The hum deepened slightly.
She looked at me expectantly.
I hesitated only for a second before stepping on beside her.
The metal beneath my shoes vibrated faintly.
The beeping from the damaged machine behind us finally stopped.
Completely.
Silence.
Then-
With a heavy, grinding sound(Grinding: loud, rough scraping noise, often made when metal parts move against each other with friction.) from below, the platform shifted.
And began to descend.
The elevator descended.
And kept descending.
The mechanical hum beneath our feet stayed steady, deep and constant, vibrating up through my boots and into my bones. The walls slid past in a blur of metal and shadow through the thin gaps in the shaft.(As the elevator moves quickly downward, Eclipsara can see the metal walls of the shaft rushing past through small openings. Because they are moving fast, the walls look blurry and dark. So basically: Fast elevator means walls moving quickly past and thus looks like a blur.)
(A Elevator shaft is a tall vertical tunnel where an elevator moves up and down.).(The gap means there are small openings between the elevator platform and the walls of the elevator shaft, and through those openings Eclipsara can see outside.)
It was moving fast.
Decently fast.
Too fast for how long this was taking.
I glanced at Mira.
“…It’s really that far down?”
She didn’t answer immediately. Her eyes were focused upward, listening to the machinery.
“It would seem so.”
The hum continued.
Down.
Down.
Down.
How deep did something like this need to be buried?
I swallowed.
“…To keep what secrets?”
Mira didn’t respond to that.
The question just hung there between us, sinking with the platform.
After what felt like several minutes-far longer than any normal building should allow-the platform finally began to slow.
The grinding softened.
The vibration lessened.(The elevator platform is shaking slightly because the machine is running. In this case, the shaking it lessening)
And with a heavy mechanical lurch(A sudden, jerky movement.), it stopped.
The doors didn’t open.
Instead, a small rectangular screen embedded into the control panel flickered to life.
A soft electronic tone chimed.
Text appeared.
ACCESS RESTRICTED. UNABLE TO PROCEED FURTHER.
HIGH-RANKING KEY CARD REQUIRED.
Mira and I stared at it.
“…Wait,” I said slowly.
She blinked at the screen.
“There’s… more?” she murmured.
I looked down at the platform beneath us. Then up the shaft we’d descended through.
“We just went down for, like, five minutes.”
“And this isn’t the bottom,” Mira said quietly.
We both stood there for a second, processing that.
After all that depth.
After the laboratory.
After the documents.
There was still something further below.
I exhaled slowly.
“…Okay. That’s not concerning at all.”
Mira’s tail flicked once.
“If it requires a high-ranking key card, then logically,” she said, “one may be located on this floor.”
I looked at her.
“You’re saying we should check?”
“Yes.”
I sighed.
“Of course we should check.”
The platform gave a soft mechanical click.
This time, the outer barrier slid aside.
The passage ahead was different from the level above.
There were no sealed doors.
Instead, there were open entrances carved into the walls(Carved into-Cut directly into something solid. In context: The doorways weren’t built with doors. Instead, openings were cut into the walls.)-doorways without actual doors, just wide rectangular openings leading into dimly lit (not very bright.)rooms beyond.
The air felt cooler.
More circulated.(Circulated means air is constantly moving around the area instead of staying still. In context: The ventilation system is pushing air through the rooms, keeping it fresh.)
I tilted my head upward.
Above us, several large ventilation fans(Large fans that move air in and out of a building. They help: Bring in fresh air. Remove bad air. Control temperature, In labs they are important for safety and cleanliness.) were embedded into the ceiling, slowly spinning with a low mechanical whir.(A whir is a soft spinning sound made by machines. Mechanical whir-the sound of motors and rotating parts. Computer fans. Air vents. Small engines) Thin metal pipes ran along the ceiling and down the walls, branching in precise lines like veins feeding something deeper.
(Thin metal pipes-tubes carrying air, gas, or fluids. Branching-splitting into smaller directions. Like veins-similar to blood vessels in a body. Normally veins carry blood through a body. In context in this scene: The pipes spread through the building like a network, carrying something (air, chemicals, or power) deeper into the facility.)
It didn’t look abandoned.
It looked… maintained.
I swallowed again.
“…I don’t like this level already.”
Mira stepped forward off the platform first.
“We’ll proceed carefully.”
Right.
Carefully.
Because clearly that had worked so well for us so far.
As we stepped through the entrance, the space immediately opened up.
And kept opening.
The hallway ahead split almost instantly.
Right.
Left.
Then further down, more right. More left.
There were no doors anywhere.
Just open rectangular entryways carved into the white walls, leading into more corridors that branched again and again like veins in a living body.
It was massive.
But not in a grand way.
In a disorienting way.
Every direction looked the same.
White walls. Sterile floors. Overhead lights humming softly.
And fans.
More fans than before.
Large circular ventilation units lined the ceiling, but also the upper parts of the walls on both the right and left sides. Thin pipes ran between them in careful, organized lines, disappearing into corners and splitting off into other sections.
Air circulated constantly.
Clean.
Cold.
Processed.(Processed air means: Air that has been: Filtered. Cleaned .Possibly temperature-controlled. Labs often use processed air to prevent contamination. So the air here is not natural air-it's controlled by machines.)
The entire place felt alive in a controlled way.
Not abandoned.
Not ruined.
Maintained.
I tightened my grip around my axe.
I didn’t like this.
I didn’t like this at all.
My boots echoed faintly as we walked forward, turning right at the first split. Then left at the next. Then right again.
It didn’t matter which direction we chose.
There were always more.
More hallways.
More openings.
No containment doors.
No locked barriers.
Just open access to everything.
“That’s… a lot,” I muttered.
Mira walked slightly ahead of me, her eyes scanning each branching corridor carefully.
“I believe this level houses multiple laboratories,” she said calmly.
“All of this?”
“Yes.”
She paused at an intersection, glancing down two different corridors before choosing one.
“They appear to be separated by distance rather than physical barriers.” she continued. “Spacing them apart like this would reduce interference.”
“Interference?” I repeated.
“Contamination. Magical feedback. Explosive reactions. Cross-subject interaction.” She said it like she was listing grocery items. “If one laboratory were to fail catastrophically, the damage might not spread to the others.”
I stared at her.
“…That’s comforting.”
“I think it was meant to be efficient.”
We passed another open entrance on the left. I glanced inside briefly.
White tables.
Metal restraints bolted into surfaces.
Overhead lights.
Empty.
I looked away quickly.
My grip tightened further around my axe.
The sterile brightness made everything worse.
If it had been dark, dusty, ruined-fine.
This?
This was deliberate.
We turned another corner.
And another.
It didn’t matter how far we walked.
There were always more paths waiting ahead.
Like the entire floor had been designed to confuse.
Or to contain something very, very carefully.
I swallowed.
“…I really don’t like how open this is.”
Mira’s tail flicked once.
“Neither do I.”
That did not make me feel better.
We stopped at another four-way split.
Left.
Right.
Forward.
And another branching corridor slightly angled off to the side.
I slowly turned in a circle.
“…We’re going to get lost.”
Mira didn’t disagree.
Her eyes moved carefully along the ceiling, then the walls, then back down the corridors.
“There are no identifiers.” she murmured. “No numbers. No section labels. No visible mapping system.”
Of course there weren’t.
Because that would be helpful.
How lovely.
“Maybe it’s digital?” I suggested weakly.
“There are no visible terminals either.” she replied. (terminals:A computer station or machine used to control or access a system. In this facility it would be something like: a computer screen a control panel a machine where you can enter commands)
Even better.
We were in a massive underground facility with no signage(Signs that give directions or information.) and no map.
Perfect.
I shifted my weight, adjusting my grip on my axe.
“We could try remembering the turns.” I suggested weakly. “Like… right, left, right, left-”
“And after twenty intersections?” Mira asked calmly.
“…Fair.”
She looked up again at the ventilation fans lining the corridors.
They were spaced evenly along every wall and ceiling stretch.(The fans were placed evenly along every long part of the walls and ceiling.) Identical. Clean. Quietly spinning.
Then her tailed twitched slightly.
“I have an idea.”
I looked at her. “Please tell me it’s a good one.”
“You should mark our path.”
“…Mark it how?”
She nodded toward my axe.
“Make small scratch marks on the metal housing(The outer covering that protects something mechanical.)of the fans. On the wall panels beside them. Not the ceiling, obviously. Just subtle indicators so we know which routes we’ve already taken.”
I blinked.
“…You want me to vandalize(To damage something on purpose, usually public property.) the ventilation system.”
“It is already an illegal infiltration.” she replied evenly. “A small marking will not worsen our situation.”
I stared at her.
“…I think you’ve gotten bolder.”
She ignored that.
I stepped toward the nearest fan mounted along the right wall. Its metal casing was smooth and sterile, just like everything else here.
I raised my axe and carefully dragged the edge across the metal housing.
Screeeech.
The sound was sharp and unpleasant in the quiet hallway.
A thin diagonal scratch cut across the casing.
Not too large.
Just enough.
“There,” I muttered.
Mira nodded once.
“We’ll mark each turn we take.”
We chose a path.
Right.
I scratched the wall panel just beside the fan before stepping through the open entrance.
Left at the next intersection. Another small mark.
The metallic scrape echoed faintly each time, the only disruption in the sterile silence.(Something that interrupts or breaks the silence.)
We walked slowly.
Every turn we took, I left another subtle scar on the wall beside a fan housing.
Right.
Scratch.
Left.
Scratch.
Straight.
Scratch.
The marks weren’t obvious unless you were looking for them.
The deeper we went, the more the layout began to feel intentional.
Not random, but like organized chaos.
Designed to disorient anyone without knowledge of the system.(To confuse someone so they don’t know where they are.)
Which meant someone had known it perfectly once.
I tightened my grip on my axe again.
The white halls stretched on endlessly in every direction.
And the hum of the fans never stopped.
Not a single one.
The corridor finally ended.
Not in another turn.
Not in another branching split.
But in a door.
A wide one.
Thick. Seam-sealed. Different from the open entrances we’d been passing.(Seam: A line where two pieces of material meet. Examples: where two metal plates connect the stitched line in clothing. Seam-sealed means: The seams are tightly closed so nothing can get through. Usually used for: airtight. Watertight. Secure containment.The door is built very tightly and securely, so nothing can escape or leak out.)
I stopped.
Mira stopped beside me.
“…That’s new,” I murmured.
She stepped forward first, examining the edges. “It isn’t locked.”
I tightened my grip on my axe. “Of course it isn’t.”
She pressed her hand against the panel.
It slid open with a low hydraulic hiss.
We both stepped inside.
The room was white-gray, colder in tone than the corridors. Cleaner. More contained.
Monitors lined the left wall-dark, but still faintly powered. A desk sat near the center, cluttered with papers, folders, loose documents scattered as if someone had left in a hurry.
And then-
We saw it.
At the far end of the room.
A massive rectangular structure dominating the space.
It was enormous. Large enough to hold something far bigger than a person. Thick, reinforced glass formed one entire wall of it-stretching nearly from floor to ceiling.
Inside the chamber, everything was dark gray.
Empty.
Except-
A streak of red.
Dried.
Darkened.
Blood.
No one was inside.
No body.
Just the evidence that something had been.
Mira stepped closer to the glass slowly.
“What… is this place?” she whispered.
I didn’t answer.
Because I didn’t know.
Because I didn’t like the way the room felt.
I lowered my axe carefully, setting it against the desk for a moment as I reached for the scattered papers.
My fingers brushed over the top page. It seemed to be documentation of various subjects.
They were organized by subject number.
No names.
Just identifiers.
I didn’t read those yet.
Because one page caught my eye in particular-the one at the very front.
A bright red stamp marked across it.
Something the others didn’t have.
SUBJECT REPORT
I pulled the sheet free and scanned it.
Subject ID: H-25-07
Species: Human
Sex: Male
Age: 25
Experiment Classification: Phase Alteration / Consciousness Retention Trial
Injection Series Administered: 12
Observed Physical Changes:
-
Skin pigmentation shifted to complete melanistic state (pitch black)(Pigmentation: The color of skin, caused by pigments in the body.Examples: light skin. dark skin. freckles.)(Melanistic means: A condition where a lot of dark pigment (melanin) is produced. This makes something very dark or black. Examples in animals: black panthers very dark snakes. The person's skin turned completely black.)
-
Ocular sclera darkened(Ocular: Related to the eye. Sclera: The white part of the eye. Colored part: iris. Black center-pupil)
-
Irises transitioned to luminous red(irises is the colored part of the eye.)
-
Vascular restructuring observed beneath dermal layer.(Vascular: Related to blood vessels. Blood vessels are: veins, arteries, capillaries)(Dermal layer means: The skin layer. So beneath the dermal layer means: Under the skin.) (The experiment altered his circulatory system: The circulatory system (or cardiovascular system) is the bodily system responsible for transporting blood, nutrients, oxygen, carbon dioxide, and hormones throughout the body)
-
Elevated internal temperature baseline.
Neurological Observations:
-
Retains intermittent(Something that happens sometimes but not continuously.)consciousness(sometimes wakes up or becomes aware, but not consistently.)
-
Periods of awareness unstable and deteriorating
-
Increasing aggression during cognitive collapse
-
Subject displays diminished identity markers
Ability Manifestation:
-
Partial phasing capability through solid material
-
Inconsistent molecular destabilization
-
Phasing success rate: 43%
-
Severe cellular strain during activation.(Cellular: Related to cells in the body. Strain: Stress or damage caused by too much pressure. Meaning of the sentence: His body’s cells are being heavily stressed or damaged when he uses his ability.)
Behavioral Notes:
-
Responds to auditory commands inconsistently
-
Displays predatory fixation behaviors
-
Classified as cognitively unstable
-
Referred to in staff notes as “mindless dog”
Conclusion:
-
Subject deemed unsuccessful for stable integration
-
Phase instability renders him unreliable
-
Consciousness retention(Retention means: The ability to keep or maintain something.) below acceptable threshold
-
Experimentation status: FAILED
Action Required:
-
Termination authorized
-
Disposal via internal containment chamber
-
No further data collection necessary
Lead Scientist: Dr. A. Virell
My eyes drifted back to the chamber.
To the dried streak of blood.
Mira stepped beside me. “What does it say?”
I handed the paper to her without a word.
She scanned it silently.
Her tail went completely still.
“…Injection series.” she murmured. “Transformation. Phasing ability.”
“He was still conscious,” I said quietly. “At least sometimes.”
My gaze moved back to the glass.
To the red smear.
“They killed him in that chamber.”
Silence settled over the room.
Heavy. Uncomfortable.
“There are multiple empty folders here.” Mira said after a moment, scanning the desk. “If this is one report… then there were others.”
I looked around again.
The monitors.
The chamber.
The blood.
“There has to be more,” I said. “More rooms. More creatures. More doors that explain what this place was actually trying to achieve.”
“What exactly,” Mira said quietly. “is still unclear.”
She folded the document carefully instead of putting it back.
“There may be information elsewhere.”
I noticed a small bag tucked beneath the desk - plain, utilitarian.
Mira picked it up and began sliding several of the documents inside.
“We shouldn’t leave empty-handed,” she said.
I grabbed my axe again.
The room suddenly felt too small.
Too quiet.
We gave the chamber one last look.
Then we stepped back into the corridor.
And went deeper.
We kept walking.
Left.
Scratch.
Right.
Scratch.
Straight.
Scratch.
The sound of metal scraping against metal had become strangely comforting. Proof we had been there. Proof we weren’t just wandering in circles.
The white halls stretched endlessly ahead of us, fans humming above, pipes lining the upper walls like veins in some enormous mechanical body.
I glanced at Mira.
She was walking beside me, quiet. Not tense exactly. Just… inward.
And after everything she’d dealt with-Vemmora, her mother, Daemina, this entire nightmare facility-I didn’t like that quiet.
So I did what I usually did when things felt too heavy.
I opened my mouth.
“You know.” I said casually, dragging my axe across another fan casing. Scratch. “At this point we could open the next door and find literally anything.”
Mira blinked at me. “Anything?”
“Anything,” I repeated. “A secret underground bakery. Experimental bread. Evil croissants.”
She stared at me for a second.
“…Evil croissants?”
“Yes. Weaponized pastries. Extremely flaky. Emotionally manipulative.”
The corner of her mouth twitched despite herself.
Encouraged, I continued.
“Or maybe a room full of cats. Very polite cats. Lab coats. Tiny glasses.”
“That would be adorable,” Mira said softly.
“Right? And they’d all turn slowly and judge us.”
She huffed a small laugh.
There it was.
That tiny spark of her usual self.
“Or,” she added thoughtfully, playing along now. “it could just be a storage closet.”
I gasped dramatically. “Don’t say that. That’s the scariest possibility yet.”
She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling faintly.
Good.
We reached another intersection.
Right.
Scratch.
I adjusted the axe under my arm and looked ahead.
“And if it’s not cats or croissants,” I said. “then maybe it’s just another boring lab. Papers. Charts. Someone’s half-finished lunch.”
“Why would there be lunch?”
“Because even evil scientists need sandwiches.”
Mira actually laughed at that one.
The sound echoed softly down the corridor.
For a moment, it felt almost normal.
Then-
We saw another door.
A real one.
Sealed.
Heavy.
I turned to Mira with exaggerated seriousness.
“Alright. Final guesses.”
She folded her arms. “Storage room.”
“Wrong. Definitely pastry vault.”
She shook her head.
I stepped forward and carefully lowered my axe to the ground beside me.
With my right hand - my only hand - I pressed against the panel.
“Prepare yourself,” I declared dramatically. “For disappointment and to be amazed.”
The door slid open.
And I immediately regretted everything I had just said.
The room beyond wasn’t white.
It was red.
Not painted.
Not lit.
Red.
Blood covered the floor in dark, dried sheets. Splattered across the walls(Liquid thrown or sprayed violently in many directions.). Across the ceiling. Across overturned desks and shattered equipment.
Bodies.
Everywhere.
Scientists.
Lab coats soaked and stiff with blood.(Something that has become hard and rigid. When blood dries, cloth becomes hard and crusty. Meaning in the sentence: The lab coats were soaked with blood that dried and hardened the fabric.)
Collapsed against walls.
Slumped over consoles.(Sitting or leaning forward weakly with no strength.Sitting or leaning forward weakly with no strength.)
Some sprawled across desks.(Lying spread out in an uncontrolled or messy way. Example: Someone falling suddenly might land with arms and legs spread out. Context: Some bodies were lying across desks in awkward positions, like they collapsed suddenly.)
Some on the floor, limbs twisted at unnatural angles.
There were no flies.
No rot in the air.
Just stillness.
Like the room had been sealed the moment it happened.
A massacre frozen in time.
My stomach dropped.
“Oh-”
Behind me, Mira inhaled sharply.
A broken sound.
I turned just in time to see the color drain from her face.
She staggered back a step.(Moving unsteadily, like you almost fall.)
Her hands trembled at her sides.
Her breathing hitched once.
Twice.
She swallowed hard.
“I-”
Her voice broke.
She clamped a hand over her mouth.
I moved instantly.
“Don’t look,” I said quietly.
I stepped in front of her, blocking the doorway with my body and guiding her backward.
“It’s okay. Don’t look.”
She shook her head, trying to steady herself.
“I’m fine,” she whispered.
She wasn’t.
Her shoulders jerked once.(Moving unsteadily, like you almost fall.)
I turned her fully away from the room and gently pushed her down to kneel on the clean hallway floor.
“Don’t force it.” I said softly, rubbing her back with my hand. “Just let it out.”
She tried to hold it.
She really tried.
Then she gagged.(When your throat tightens and you almost vomit. It’s the sound people make when they feel sick or disgusted. Example sound: “ghk-” Meaning here: The sight and smell made her so sick she couldn’t hold it in anymore)
And vomited onto the white floor.
Her hands hit the ground to steady herself.
Another heave.(The strong body movement when vomiting. Your stomach muscles push upward.)
She vomited again.
“I’m sorry-” she choked out weakly.
“Don’t.” I said immediately. “Don’t apologize.”
Her breathing turned uneven.
When it was over, she stayed kneeling there.
Shaking.
And then-
She started crying.
Not quiet tears.
Not controlled.
It broke out of her like something inside had finally cracked.
“I want to go home,” she sobbed. “I want my mom back. I want my family… I don’t want to be here. I want to go home.”
My chest tightened.
I didn’t say anything at first.
There wasn’t anything smart to say.
I knelt behind her and pulled her back against me.
One arm wrapping around her shoulders.
She buried her face against me and cried harder.
“I know,” I murmured softly.
I kept my body between her and the open door.
Between her and the blood.
Between her and what was inside that room.
And I just held her.
I helped Mira move farther down the corridor.
Away from the door.
Away from the smell.
Away from her own vomit.
“There,” I said softly, guiding her to sit against the wall near one of the fans. “Stay here. Breathe.”
She nodded weakly, wiping her face with the back of her sleeve.
“I’ll just… sit,” she murmured.
“Good.”
I picked up my axe again.
And went back.
The door was still open.
The room was still red.
Stepping inside felt worse the second time.
The air was heavy and metallic. Thick with the scent of dried blood that had soaked into everything-the floor, the desks, the fabric of lab coats.
I forced myself to look.
Really look.
These hadn’t been clean deaths.
One scientist lay sprawled(spread out in a messy or uncontrolled position.) across a shattered console, his torso split open-something had torn through his abdomen from the front(Torso-the main body (chest and stomach area, not including arms, legs, or head). Abdomen-the stomach area of the body. Context: His body had been ripped open in the stomach area, and something burst through the front of his body with extreme force.). Dried, darkened blood had pooled beneath him, and part of his intestines hung loose against the edge of the desk.
(Intestines-organs inside your stomach that help digest food. Hung loose-dangling down freely, not held inside the body anymore. Context: Some of the scientist’s internal organs had fallen out of his body and were hanging down over the desk.)
Another body was crumpled(Something collapsed or folded in on itself, like a piece of paper being crushed.) near the wall, one arm completely missing from the shoulder. Not cut cleanly.
Ripped.
The remaining sleeve of the lab coat was stiff and dark.
A third lay on the floor near the chamber-side wall, both legs bent at unnatural angles. One of them had been twisted so violently the bone had punctured through the fabric.(Punctured:The bone broke and pushed through the skin and clothing, making a hole in the fabric. The bone broke and pushed through the skin and clothing, making a hole in the fabric.)
There were gouge(A deep scratch or chunk carved out of a surface.) marks along the walls. (The walls had deep damage, like something strong scratched or slammed into them violently.)
Deep.
Like something with strength-or claws-had slammed them into it.
One corpse near the center of the room had a cavity in his stomach. Not a stab wound.
A hole.
As if something had gone through him.
The floor beneath him was almost black with dried blood.
This hadn’t been a controlled execution.
This had been a slaughter.
My jaw tightened.
Whatever had been in that containment chamber…
It hadn’t gone quietly.
I moved carefully between the bodies, boots sticking slightly to the dried floor.
Some of them still wore identification tags clipped to their coats.
Name plates.
Access badges.
Key cards.
Useful.
I shifted my grip on the axe awkwardly under my arm. Doing anything one-handed was always irritating-but this was worse.
I crouched beside one of the corpses and hesitated.
Then, with a quiet exhale, I set my axe down.
Right into the blood.
The metal edge darkened instantly.
“Great,” I muttered under my breath.
I used my hand to unclip the key card from the first scientist’s coat. It took longer than it should have. The clasp(The clip that held the key card was hard to open because dried blood had hardened around it.) was stiff with dried blood.
One card.
Into my pocket.
Then another.
I had to brace myself awkwardly against a desk to reach one that had fallen beneath a body. I avoided looking too closely at his face as I pulled the tag free.
Three.
Four.
As many as I could reasonably carry.
Each time I finished, I wiped my palm against the least-bloody section of a lab coat before reaching for the next one.
Finally, I stood.
Picked my axe back up from the floor.
The blade was smeared dark red now.
I didn’t bother cleaning it.
If these key cards opened something deeper down here…
Then this room hadn’t been pointless.
I stepped out into the corridor again and pulled the door mostly shut behind me.
Mira looked up when she heard me.
Her eyes were still red.
“I don’t want to go back in there,” she said quietly.
“You won’t.” I replied.
She swallowed.
“I just… I need to rest somewhere. Not here.”
“Yeah,” I said gently. “Yeah. Of course.”
I adjusted the weight of the axe in my hand.
“Let’s find another room. Something clean.”
Something without blood on the walls.
I offered her a small, steady look.
“Come on.”
And together, we walked away from the massacre.
I guided Mira forward slowly.
Left.
Scratch.
Right.
Scratch.
The axe scraped against another fan casing as we passed, leaving a thin mark behind us.
Proof.
We were not getting lost in this place.
I stayed slightly ahead of her now.
Every door we passed, I checked first.
Every corner, I looked around before she could.
She was walking quieter than before. Drained. Eyes unfocused.
We turned one more corner.
There.
Another door.
Not massive like the lab chamber.
Smaller.
Thicker.
Reinforced.
I held up a hand for her to stay back.
“Wait here,” I said gently.
She nodded without arguing.
That alone told me how tired she was.
I stepped forward, carefully lowering my axe just enough to press the panel with my hand. The door clicked and slid open.
I leaned in just enough to see inside.
No red.
No overturned furniture.
No bodies.
Just-
A room.
Clean.
Gray-white walls.
Unbroken floor.
A couch.
An actual couch.
With a pillow.
I blinked.
“…You’ve got to be kidding me.”
There were cabinets along one wall. A small table. No blood. No signs of struggle.
And the door itself-
Thick.
Heavy.
Reinforced from the inside with manual locking bolts.
This wasn’t a lab.
It was a containment room.
Or a panic room.
A safe room.
Relief hit me so suddenly I almost laughed.
I turned back to Mira.
“It’s clear,” I said quickly.
She looked at me cautiously.
“No blood?”
“None.”
Her shoulders visibly dropped.
I stepped aside and gently guided her inside before scanning the corners one more time.
Still clean.
Still quiet.
Good.
I shut the door firmly and slid the internal locking mechanism into place. Then I engaged the manual bolts one by one.
Heavy metal clanked into position.
Secure.
Finally.
I turned around.
Mira was staring at the couch like it might disappear.
“Sit,” I told her.
She hesitated. “You should. You look worse than I do.”
I narrowed my eyes at her.
“Mira.”
“I’m serious-”
I stepped toward her slowly.
Very slowly.
Lowered my voice.
“You are going to lie down on that couch.”
She blinked.
I leaned in just slightly, letting my tone dip into something mock-threatening.
“Or I will personally place you there.”
Her eyes widened.
“…You’re being scary.”
“Good.”
She tried to argue again, but I gently nudged her backward with my shoulder and hip until the back of her legs hit the couch.
“Down.”
She made a small protesting noise as she sat.
Then I pushed her lightly so she fell sideways onto the cushion.
The pillow shifted under her head.
“There,” I said firmly. “Focus on resting.”
She stared up at me for a moment.
Then her eyes softened.
“…Okay.”
She curled slightly on her side.
And within seconds-
Her breathing evened out.
She was asleep.
Just like that.
Exhaustion had taken her completely.
I stood there for a long moment, watching her chest rise and fall.
Then I finally let myself breathe.
I moved to the door one more time and checked the locks.
Secure.
Good.
I slid down slowly against the opposite wall and let myself sink to the floor.
The metal was cold against my back.
My legs felt heavy.
My hand ached from gripping the axe for so long.
I rested the axe beside me and then I tilted my head back against the wall and closed my eyes.
Just for a moment.
Just enough to rest.
I don’t know how long I rested.
Minutes.
Maybe more.
Long enough for my body to feel heavy.
Long enough for my eyes to stay closed.
And then-
“Hehe…”
My eyes snapped open.
The sound was distant.
Soft.
But wrong.
It wasn’t human laughter.
It wasn’t even fully laughter.
It was thin.
Echoing.
Like something trying to imitate the sound without understanding it.
“Hehe… hehe…”
It drifted through the vents.
Through the walls.
Through the pipes.
Not loud.
But everywhere.
My heart slammed once against my ribs.
I didn’t move at first.
I listened.
Mira’s breathing remained slow and even on the couch.
Still asleep.
Good.
“Hehe…”
Closer.
My fingers slowly tightened around the handle of my axe.
What the fuck.
The laughter stretched unnaturally, pitch bending at the edges. It echoed down corridors I couldn’t see, bouncing off metal and tile and glass.
Then-
Footsteps.
No.
Not footsteps.
Something dragging.
Something uneven.
A faint scrape.
A shuffle.
A wet shift of weight.
It was moving through the hallway outside.
My entire body went still.
Don’t wake her.
Don’t wake her.
The sound passed our door.
For a second, I thought it would keep going.
Then-
BANG.
The reinforced door shook violently in its frame.
The impact wasn’t careful.
It wasn’t testing.
It was sudden.
Like something had thrown itself against it without thinking.
Mira stirred slightly on the couch.
I was already on my feet.
Silent.
Axe raised.
The door trembled once more.
A slow scrape dragged down the other side of the metal.
As if fingers-
Or claws-
Were sliding across it.
I didn’t breathe.
On the other side, something shifted its weight.
A faint sniffing sound.
A distorted inhale.
“Hehe…”
Softer now.
Right against the door.
It didn’t sound aware.
It didn’t sound intelligent.
It sounded curious.
My grip tightened so hard my knuckles burned.
Please don’t test the lock.
Please don’t test the lock.
There was a long pause.
So long I thought maybe it had gone.
Then-
A sudden thud against the wall beside the door.
A scrape.
And the dragging sound resumed.
Slowly.
Gradually.
Moving away.
The laughter echoed again down the corridor.
Fainter.
Distorting as it traveled.
“Hehe… hehe…”
Until it was gone.
Only the faint hum of the facility remained.
I stood there for several more seconds.
Listening.
Waiting.
Nothing.
Mira shifted in her sleep but didn’t wake.
Good.
Very good.
I lowered the axe slowly.
And under my breath, barely audible-
“What the hell?”
Monsters roam these halls.
Not just experiments on paper.
Not just dried blood in rooms.
Alive.
Moving.
Laughing.
It only gave me an idea of what we may have to face soon.
