Seven's heart raced as he continued to crawl along the wall, his hands scraping against the rough surface, his mind frantic.
Every inch felt like an eternity, and the oppressive darkness pressed in on him, suffocating him with its weight. The screeching noise from earlier still echoed in his head, a haunting reminder of the unknown danger lurking in the shadows.
His breath came in shallow gasps, each one more desperate than the last. His hands trembled as they glided over the wall, hoping to find something—anything—that might offer him a way out. Time lost meaning in the blackness, each moment feeling longer than the last.
And then, just as he was about to lose all hope, his fingertips brushed against something solid, something different from the smooth wall. A hard, cool surface. Seven's heart skipped a beat. A door.
With renewed determination, he scrambled to his knees and pressed his hands against the door, feeling for a handle. His fingers found a cold metal handle, and grasped it, pulling with all his strength. But the door didn't budge. Panic flared again, threatening to consume him.
He took a step back, his mind racing. Maybe it was stuck. Maybe he had to push instead of pull. His eyes remained useless in the darkness, but his instincts took over. He shoved his shoulder against the door with everything he had, and, with a groan, it creaked open just a crack.
A rush of cold air swept through the gap, and Seven's breath hitched. The world beyond the door was just as dark, but the sense of freedom—of escape—drove him forward. He pushed harder, and the door slowly gave way, creaking on its hinges until it was open wide enough for him to slip through.
Seven hesitated for a moment, uncertainty clouding his mind, but the pull to move forward was too strong. With one last deep breath, he stepped through the doorway into the unknown.
**
The air beyond the door was different—crisp, almost biting, yet strangely empty. Seven's breath came out in uneven puffs as he took another hesitant step forward. His fingers trailed along the edge of the doorway, reluctant to let go of the only tangible thing anchoring him to reality.
The floor beneath his feet felt smoother than before, colder, like polished stone. He reached out blindly, hands searching the void, but there was nothing. No walls. No ceiling. Just a vast, suffocating emptiness stretching endlessly around him.
The weight of the unknown pressed heavily on his chest, stirring the panic that had only just begun to subside. He clenched his fists, nails biting into his palms, grounding himself. Think. Stay calm. He couldn't let the fear take over.
He turned his head, straining his ears for any sound, any sign that he wasn't completely alone. At first, there was nothing but the sound of his own breathing, harsh and uneven in the silence. Then—something. A faint, almost imperceptible hum, so low it was more felt than heard. It pulsed in the distance, rhythmic, like the slow beating of a massive heart.
Seven swallowed hard. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or something he should be running from.
With no other choice, he moved forward, each step measured, cautious. The darkness was all-consuming, but he forced himself to press on. His body was tense, waiting for something—anything—to emerge from the void.
Then, suddenly, a faint glow flickered in the distance.
Seven stopped dead in his tracks. The light was small, barely more than a spark, but in this abyss, it stood out like a beacon. It pulsed once, then again, its dim golden hue cutting through the endless dark.
A choice lay before him: stay in the unknown or move toward the light.
The answer was obvious.
With a deep breath, Seven took his first step toward it.
**
The light filtering through the keyhole was faint, but it was there, a soft glow that seemed to pulse with a quiet urgency. Another door, Seven thought, his mind spinning as his fingers grazed the old, splintered wood.
His hand moved slowly, carefully, tracing the edges of the door, feeling the grooves in the weathered surface. The door was ancient—its handle, cold to the touch, was tarnished and rusted from years of neglect. It felt heavy, as if it had been closed for a lifetime, and the air around it carried the scent of dust and decay.
Kneeling down, Seven bent closer to the keyhole, his breath shallow as he tried to peer through. His eyes strained against the dim light that flickered on the other side, but the view was obscured, distorted by the thin strands of cobwebs that clung to the wood like a shroud. The keyhole itself was small, barely large enough for him to see anything clearly. Still, he pressed his face against it, trying to make sense of the shifting shadows beyond.
The webs were everywhere—thick, tangled, and clinging to the edges of the hole. Seven's frustration grew. He needed to see what was out there, to understand what lay on the other side. He sucked in a breath and blew hard at the webs, the force of it sending the delicate threads fluttering into the air. The webs scattered like a cloud of dust, revealing a faint, blurry view of the outside world.
What he saw made his heart skip a beat. The light that filtered through was unnatural, a sickly, vibrant green that painted the world outside in an eerie, otherworldly hue. It was like nothing he had ever seen before. The landscape was blurred and strange, the colors shifting in ways that didn't seem to belong to any familiar world. There was something wrong about it—something off—but Seven couldn't quite grasp what it was.
He squinted, trying to focus, but the image before him remained distorted, like a half-remembered dream. His chest tightened with unease. What is this place? He thought, but before he could even begin to process the overwhelming strangeness of it all, he was overcome with a deep, instinctive need to get through that door. Something in his gut told him that whatever lay beyond was his only way out.
Seven's hands were slick with sweat as he clutched the door handle, his body trembling with the effort. His muscles screamed in protest, but he pushed, pulled, and twisted with all the strength he had left. The door resisted at first, the heavy wood groaning against his pressure. But slowly, almost grudgingly, the door gave way.
With a final desperate push, it swung open, and a rush of light poured through the crack. It was unlike any light he had seen before—a strange, eerie green glow that seemed to pulse with life. His eyes, unaccustomed to the brightness, squinted in shock. The sudden influx of light was almost blinding, and his vision blurred in the aftermath. He instinctively rubbed his eyes, trying to adjust, willing himself to see through the intensity.
After a few seconds of blinking and trying to clear his blurred vision, Seven finally dared to open his eyes fully. The world before him was alien—an overwhelming, unnerving scene that made his heart race. But the moment he opened his eyes completely, the unexpected happened.
A massive, snarling creature—its eyes glowing in the same unnatural green as the light—suddenly came charging out of the darkness. Its jaws snapped hungrily, fangs glistening, and its massive form was almost upon him before his mind could even register what was happening.
The raw speed of the beast sent a surge of panic through him, but it was too late to react. His body froze, caught in a moment of shock and helplessness, as the creature closed the distance between them in the blink of an eye.