Alex ran up the stairs, clutching the thick book to his chest, laptop slung over his shoulder. The voice he had heard in the room below still echoed in his mind: chilling and metallic, as if it came from everywhere and nowhere. The stairs seemed endless, the walls closing in to swallow him whole.
At the top, Alex tripped into the corridor, gasping for air. He slammed the trapdoor shut behind him and backed away, his heart thudding against his ribs. The faint hum of the odd machinery from below had followed him, vibrating faintly through the floor.
"Who… or what was that?" he muttered, clutching his sides.
The book in his hands seemed to pulse with energy, the faint glow from its cover growing brighter. He placed it carefully on a nearby table, his laptop beside it, and began to inspect his surroundings. The corridor was silent, its dim lighting flickering sporadically. Shadows played tricks on his eyes, and every creak of the floorboards sent a shiver down his spine.
Opening the book, Alex found that its pages were no longer blank. Strange symbols and diagrams filled its surface, similar to the ones he had seen etched into the walls below. They pulsed faintly, as though alive, and seemed to rearrange themselves when Alex focused too hard.
He opened his laptop, hoping the files from the mysterious folder might provide answers. The folder, **"Origins,"** was locked with a new layer of encryption. Frustrated, Alex tapped the keyboard.
"Come on, let me in," he growled.
The screen flickered, and a message appeared:
> Decryption requires further access. Proceed with caution.
More access?" Alex repeated. His hands hovered over the keyboard, and before he could do anything about it, an incoming message flashed on the screen.
> Message Received
Alex's heart sank further. All his messages had come with danger written all over them, cryptic warnings, and threats. Summoning all the courage he had, he clicked it.
The screen went black for a moment before a video feed appeared. Static filled the frame before resolving into the image of a man—older, gaunt, with hollow eyes that seemed to pierce straight through Alex.
"You've made it farther than most," the man said, his voice low and gravelly.
"Who are you?" Alex demanded, his voice trembling.
"I am. irrelevant. What matters is the knowledge you now possess." The man's eyes flicked toward the book. "That tome and your laptop are the keys to understanding what you've stumbled into. But be warned—every step forward comes with a price."
Alex felt a knot tighten in his stomach. "What's in the files? Why was this hidden?"
The man smirked. "The truth has always been hidden, Alex. For good reason. Some things are better left buried."
Before he could ask anymore, the screen went blank, then flickered again to contain a new message:
> Encrypt the tome. The answers lie within.
The room was colder, weighed down by the man's words. Alex looked at the book, his head spinning. If the files needed the tome to decrypt, then everything—the symbols, the voice, the chamber—was part of a design.
He flipped through the book again, this time noticing that some of the symbols seemed to fit patterns in the files. Piece by piece, Alex started connecting them, cross-referencing the glowing text with what he could decode. His fingers flew across the keyboard, the room growing darker as his focus deepened.
The screen of his laptop lit up with a new folder he had never seen before: "Subject Zero: The First Experiment."
The words made his blood run cold. Alex clicked on the folder, opening a video file. The grainy footage showed a laboratory, sterile and cold. Scientists in hazmat suits worked frantically, machines beeping in the background.
"What is this?" Alex whispered.
The video cut to a glass chamber, where a figure sat slumped in the corner. It was hard to see clearly, but the figure looked human—except for the faint glow emanating from its eyes.
A voiceover began: "Project Labyrinth. Phase One. Subject Zero. Initial testing results: inconclusive. Subject displays—"
The feed cut off abruptly, replaced by another warning:
> You're being watched.
Alex slammed the computer shut, his breath coming in shallow gasps. A noise behind him made him whirl around, his flashlight casting long shadows.
"Hello?" he called out, his voice echoing in the empty hallway.
There was no response, but Alex felt a presence—a creeping, suffocating sensation that someone, or something, was watching.
His laptop beeped once again; the glow spills out into the walls. In his laptop's screen was the message written:
> Run.