The passage twisted and descended, the walls narrowing until Max had to crouch to move forward. The air was thick and damp, carrying a faint metallic tang that clung to his tongue. The light from his flashlight flickered occasionally, and he gave it a shake, muttering under his breath, "Not now, don't you dare quit on me."
The silence of the corridor was oppressive, broken only by the sound of his own breathing and the faint, rhythmic dripping of water from unseen cracks above. Every so often, he paused to examine the glowing symbols that dotted the walls, their alien script almost hypnotic in its pulsing glow.
Somewhere deep within his mind, the symbols stirred an uncomfortable familiarity. He didn't recognize them, yet they felt less foreign the longer he stared.
As he rounded another bend, the corridor opened into a vast cavern, its walls glittering with crystalline growths that reflected the light in prismatic shards. A pool of inky black liquid lay at the center, perfectly still despite the faint vibration that seemed to emanate from it.
Max approached cautiously, his boots crunching on the crystalline floor. The pool looked unnatural, its surface too smooth, too reflective. It seemed to swallow light rather than reflect it. As he drew closer, faint ripples began to form, spreading outward in concentric circles.
He froze, gripping his flashlight tighter. "Hello?" he called out, his voice echoing in the cavern.
The ripples grew stronger, and the black liquid began to bubble, thick tendrils rising from its surface like smoke made solid. Max took a step back, his heart hammering in his chest.
Then he saw it—his reflection in the pool. But it wasn't his reflection.
The face staring back at him was his own, but the eyes were wrong. They were dark, empty voids, and the expression was cold, devoid of any humanity. The figure in the pool raised a hand, and Max watched in horror as its movements mirrored his own perfectly.
"Nope, not happening," he muttered, taking another step back.
The figure in the pool smiled—an unnatural, predatory grin—and then it spoke.
"You're late, Maximilian."
The voice was his, yet not his. It was deeper, distorted, as though coming from a place far beyond the cavern.
Max stumbled back, nearly dropping his flashlight. "What the hell is this? Who are you?"
The figure tilted its head, the grin never fading. "You've been here before. You just don't remember."
"I don't—" Max stopped, his mind reeling. The locket around his neck grew warm again, the ouroboros symbol pressing uncomfortably against his skin. He grabbed it, clutching it like a lifeline. "I've never been here. I don't know what you're talking about."
The figure in the pool began to dissolve, its form breaking apart into swirling tendrils that rose into the air. As they coiled and twisted, they formed shapes—scenes that flickered and shifted too quickly to make sense.
He caught glimpses:
• A massive door carved into a mountainside, symbols glowing faintly in the dark.
• A figure—his father?—standing before a towering machine, its shifting parts alive with alien energy.
• And finally, a circle of shadowy figures, their hands raised as the portal he had entered flickered and pulsed with unstable energy.
Max stumbled back, his breathing ragged. "What is this? What are you showing me?"
The swirling tendrils collapsed into the pool, leaving the cavern in silence once more. The black liquid stilled, reflecting only his own pale, frightened face.
A soft whisper broke the silence, barely audible but unmistakable. "Find the Key."
Max turned sharply, his flashlight beam sweeping the cavern. There was no one there. The voice hadn't come from the pool, but from somewhere deeper within the cavern.
The symbols on the walls began to shift again, their glowing patterns rearranging into a path leading toward another corridor.
Max hesitated. Every nerve in his body screamed at him to turn back, to find the portal and leave this cursed place. But something stronger—a gnawing, desperate need to understand—drove him forward.
He stepped cautiously toward the corridor, the whispers growing louder with each step. They weren't words anymore, just fragments of sound, disjointed and chaotic.
As he entered the new passage, the air grew colder, and the walls began to close in once more. The locket around his neck pulsed faintly, its light dim but steady, guiding him deeper into the unknown.
The darkness ahead was impenetrable, but Max pressed on, each step taking him further from everything he knew—and closer to the truth he feared.