The air in the sublevel corridor reeked of rust and static, a metallic tang that clung to the back of Dr. Elara Voss’s throat. She adjusted her gloves, fingers brushing against the cold steel of the door handle, and exhaled slowly. The label above the reinforced panel was faded—C-7, 1987—but the sigil etched beneath it still glowed faintly, a cobalt-blue serpent coiled around a shattered star. She’d never seen that symbol before.
The door groaned as she pushed it open, revealing a chamber that smelled of old paper and something sweeter, like burnt sugar. Rows of cabinets lined the walls, their glass fronts cracked, but the center of the room was empty except for a single chair. It was a patient’s chair, the kind with restraints and a headrest padded in faded red leather. Elara stepped closer, her boots echoing against the tile floor. The chair’s base was embedded in the ground, as if it had been there longer than the building itself.
A flicker of movement caught her eye. She turned sharply, scanning the shadows. Nothing. Just the hum of the air vents and the distant drip of water from a leaking pipe. She reached for the chair’s armrest, her fingers brushing against a series of shallow grooves carved into the wood. They weren’t random—some formed letters, others jagged symbols that made her skin prickle. The grooves were fresh, still faintly damp.
“You shouldn’t be here,” a voice said behind her.
Elara spun, heart slamming against her ribs. A man stood in the doorway, his face half-shrouded by the dim light. His lab coat was unbuttoned, revealing a gray t-shirt stained with something dark. “Who are you?” she asked, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her.
“Dr. Kael Marrow,” he said. “And you’re trespassing.”
She stepped back, her hand drifting toward the small blade tucked into her belt. “I was told this section was decommissioned.”
Marrow’s lips curved into a thin smile. “Things change. Some people prefer to forget.” He took a step forward, his boots making no sound on the tile. “You shouldn’t have come here.”
Elara’s pulse quickened. “Why? What’s in this room?”
Marrow didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he glanced at the chair, his expression unreadable. “That thing wasn’t built for humans,” he said finally. “It was built for something else.”
A sudden clang echoed from the far end of the corridor. Elara froze. Marrow’s head snapped toward the sound, his posture shifting, tense. “We need to go,” he said, his voice low.
“What’s going on?” she demanded.
Before he could respond, the chair shuddered. A low, grinding noise filled the room as the restraints rattled. Elara stumbled back as the chair’s headrest tilted upward, revealing a hollow space beneath it. Something pulsed inside—a soft, blue light that flickered like a dying star.
Marrow cursed under his breath. “It’s awake.” He grabbed her wrist, pulling her toward the door. “Run.”
The light flared, and the air thickened, pressing against Elara’s chest like a physical force. She could feel it now—the weight of something vast and unseen, coiled in the darkness. Marrow’s grip was iron, but she wrenched free, her mind racing. “What is it? What’s in there?”
Marrow didn’t look back. “Something that shouldn’t be.”
The chair’s light intensified, and the walls trembled. Elara’s ears rang as a low, resonant hum filled the room. She turned, but the door was gone, replaced by a solid wall of black metal. Marrow was already moving, his hands slamming against the nearest cabinet. “There has to be a bypass,” he muttered.
Elara’s breath came in short, sharp bursts. “What’s in there?”
Marrow didn’t answer. Instead, he yanked open a cabinet, revealing a stack of files bound in cracked leather. He flipped through them, his fingers trembling. “It was never meant to be contained,” he said finally. “They thought they could control it, but…” He stopped, his jaw tight. “It’s not a subject. It’s a key.”
The light from the chair pulsed again, slower now, like a heartbeat. Elara felt it in her bones, a rhythm that didn’t belong to this world. “What does it open?”
Marrow’s eyes met hers, and for the first time, she saw fear in them. “The door,” he said. “The one you just walked through.”
The hum grew louder, and the air became thick, almost liquid. Elara took a step back, her mind racing. “Who built this?”
Marrow’s mouth twisted into a bitter smile. “You don’t want to know.”
The chair’s light flared one last time, then dimmed. The room fell silent, save for the sound of Marrow’s labored breathing. Elara stared at the chair, her thoughts a storm of questions. What had they found? And more importantly—why had it been left here, waiting?
The answer, she realized, was still inside the darkness.
