The Crimson Tide 7

The floorboards groaned beneath Elara's bare feet, each step echoing through the cavernous silence of the abandoned school. Dust motes danced in the single shaft of moonlight piercing the grimy window, illuminating the peeling paint and cobwebs that clung to every surface. A low, insistent hum vibrated through the air, the same eerie sound that had haunted their dreams for weeks, a constant thrumming that made her skin crawl. She wasn't alone. A figure emerged from the shadows, its face obscured by the swirling dust. Elara's heart hammered against her ribs, a primal fear gripping her. This was no ordinary intruder. This was someone, or something, drawn by the same hum that had led them to this forsaken place. The Crimson Tide, they whispered, had a way of finding its own.