Henry guided us through a series of narrow streets until we finally stopped to catch our breath. He looked around, making sure we were safe for the moment.
"We're close to the cathedral," Henry said, looking at me seriously.
The cold was so intense that my body trembled and ached, but I mustered the strength to ask, "Remind me why we're going there."
"As I said, the most vast and imposing places might have clues that guide us to the exit. That's why no one imagines where the exit is; it seems to always be reconstructed, just like the food and objects that appear and disappear magically."
"So the cathedral might be one of those places?"
"Exactly." Henry continued, "It's an imposing and mysterious place. If there's a clue, we'll be close to the exit."
He seemed very confident in what he was saying, and once again took the lead in our walk. It was nearly impossible not to shiver from the cold; the freezing wind never ceased and kept blowing against us.
"There it is!" he said.
We entered a wide street that had a medieval vibe, with cobblestones on the ground and many monasteries around. These monasteries, instead of appearing as places of peace and serenity, had wide-open doors and complete darkness inside, as if they were hiding secrets you definitely didn't want to uncover.
"Where's the cathedral?" I asked, looking at the eerie scene around us.
"It's just a few meters ahead; we just need to go straight." Henry was slightly excited, which was to be expected of him.
The boy, by the way, had a special talent for making me uncomfortable. He stared intently at those monasteries, and I couldn't tell if he was admiring the architecture or about to scream at any moment.
I tried to focus on the imposing cathedral ahead—something about it drew me in. Perhaps it was the last thing that could offer me any sense of normality in the midst of this madness.
"Stay quiet," Henry whispered to us.
As we walked, I felt a tap on my back. The boy nudged me and pointed to his own mouth, with a tense expression and raised eyebrows, as if trying to tell me something important without speaking.
"What is it?" I didn't understand what he was trying to show.
Being the genius that I am, I didn't get it and asked him to open his mouth.
"Speak up. What's in your mouth? Just say it."
He just shook his head, refusing. That's when Henry interrupted us.
"We're almost there."
Suddenly, the boy opened his mouth, and out came a black liquid that looked like it came straight out of a nightmare. It stained his chin and dripped onto the ground, creating a terrifying contrast against the white cobblestones.
I was startled, and as if we had activated some hidden mechanism, the doors of the monasteries began to slam shut and open on their own, making deafening noises that made my bones tremble.
Henry rushed over to the boy to check if he was okay, while I tried to process what the hell was happening.
"Are you okay? Are you feeling anything?" Henry was trying to calm the boy down.
The noise from the doors was becoming unbearable, echoing in my head like giant bells of impending doom.
"Phil, run!"
Henry shouted, and without a second thought, I followed him toward the cathedral.
We entered and were immediately swallowed by total darkness. It was as if all light had been sucked out of that place. I could barely see my own hand in front of my face.
"How am I supposed to take pictures in here?" I shouted, hoping someone had a magical solution.
But unexpectedly, the cathedral was illuminated. I turned around and saw Henry at the door, looking outside. I thought he'd lost his mind, but when I looked too, I saw that the street and the monasteries were being consumed by a deep darkness, as if something was erasing the world outside.
"Maybe this is it," Henry murmured, still looking out. "I need to keep watching so you can take the photos."
Then he spoke to the boy.
"Erik, search thoroughly for any clues or anything that might be important."
And then came the moment I'd dreaded from the start: I remembered the camera was broken because of the acid rain I had faced.
"The camera doesn't work," I said, feeling the weight of frustration growing inside me. "I went through acid rain that burned the camera. Only the memory was saved."
Henry gritted his teeth, clearly struggling to stay calm.
"How are we going to get out of here now?"
"What? What do you mean?"
He turned to me with an expression I wouldn't soon forget.
"If I told you what this place really is, neither of you would have come. But now it's too late. We have to scream. They only want one."
Before I could grasp what he was saying, Henry exploded. Literally. One second he was there, the next, he turned into a pool of blood that splattered all over me and the boy. Blood was everywhere, from our backpacks to the useless camera I was still holding. I stood there, frozen, completely stunned.
"Henry..."