The rain had stopped.
But the wind was still sharp, cutting against her face like cold metal as Eleanor left the clinic.
Her thoughts spun like a storm in her skull, refusing to settle.
She paused under a flickering streetlamp, lighting another cigarette.
Smoke curled around her as she muttered to herself:
> "What did David mean… by The Crimson Eye?"
The words haunted her.
Like a whisper crawling beneath her skin.
A cold, familiar dread was taking root.
---
✨ Scene 5 — The Dream, or Something Worse
That night, Eleanor couldn't sleep.
The exhaustion was crushing—but something worse clung to her thoughts.
When she finally collapsed into bed, a faint glow from her nightstand lamp filled the room.
She drifted off slowly, until—
Crash.
She was running.
Down endless, twisting corridors.
The floor groaned under her feet.
The air was thick. Too thick.
She wasn't alone.
Footsteps echoed behind her.
Closer.
She screamed, "Who's there?!"
No answer.
Just darkness—stretching without beginning or end.
She stopped.
A massive mirror stood in front of her.
Alone in the void.
She stepped closer.
The reflection looked like her—but not her.
Its eyes gleamed.
Its smile was... wrong.
Then the hand came.
Twisted.
Black.
It reached through the mirror and grabbed her wrist.
Dragged her toward the glass.
She tried to scream—
✨ Scene 6 — The Message
Eleanor woke with a jolt.
Soaked in sweat.
Her head throbbed, and her breath came in ragged gasps.
She blinked, trying to steady herself—
But froze when she saw it.
There—on the wall.
Words, written in blood:
> "The answer you seek… lies in the old district. At Grosvenor Square."
She stared.
The smell of iron hit her like a wave.
The blood was real.
Her body trembled, her breath quickened.
She muttered:
> "How… is this real?"
She stood, reached into the drawer next to her bed, and grabbed her gun.
She couldn't stay in the room anymore.
She sat at the edge of her bed, trying to breathe, to think clearly.
> "Why Grosvenor? What's waiting there?"
But deep down, she already knew.
It wasn't just a dream.
It wasn't random.
It was a beginning.
Or the beginning... of the end.