The temple walls groaned, but didn't collapse.
Heroca slowly pulled his hands back from the ashen remains of the burning paper, brushing the black dust against his pants. The air inside had turned cold, stagnant — like the temple itself had exhaled for the first time in centuries. But the structure held. Cracked, yes. Ancient, sure. But not ready to fall. Not yet.
He stood in the center of the bloodstained ground floor with Chiko, both of them scanning the space silently. They had checked every hallway, every shattered room — except for two places: the broken staircase leading to the first floor, and the door they'd left untouched when the voice warned them not to open it.
Heroca looked up at the staircase. Most of the steps were snapped or missing entirely. Some were blackened as if burned long ago. "If we want to get upstairs, I'll need to find something to climb with. A box, a table… anything."
Before he could move, Chiko gently grabbed his wrist.
Her voice was soft. "Let's check that room first. The one we skipped."
He turned toward her, eyes narrowed. "You sure?"
She nodded once, calm as always. "If the voice didn't want us to go in… that might be exactly why we should."
Heroca smirked faintly. "Alright. Your call."
They approached the sealed door.
It looked the same as before — plain, worn wood set into the stone wall. No windows. No handle. Just silence. But this time, a draft of freezing air whispered out from beneath it, curling like fingers around their ankles.
Heroca pressed his hand against the door. It didn't resist.
It opened.
Inside, there was nothing. Just darkness. Deep, unnatural, absolute. The kind of dark that eats sound and breath and reason.
And yet — something was there.
A cold breeze swept from the room despite the absence of windows or vents. As soon as Heroca stepped inside, the door slammed shut behind them. They spun around, but there was no handle on the inside. Just a blank slab of wood.
Before either of them could speak, a strange light bloomed in front of them — purple-blue, bright enough to burn the outline of their hands into their vision. Heroca shielded his eyes.
"What the—?"
The light surged.
And then… they were gone.
—
When Heroca opened his eyes, he was somewhere else entirely.
The room was small. Box-shaped. Its walls were solid white, unmarked. A single light bulb hung from the ceiling — swaying slightly, though there was no breeze. The air was sterile and wrong, like breathing inside a hospital that had been dead for years.
Chiko was beside him, slumped against the wall, just starting to stir.
He sat up slowly, muscles aching, head pounding. His hands were shaking.
"Chiko," he whispered.
She opened her eyes, blinking fast. "Are you okay…?"
He nodded. "Yeah. I think."
Then he saw the others.
Two people stood at the far end of the room — a young man and a girl, both in their early twenties. Heroca's eyes widened in recognition.
The boat.
They were part of the group who'd come to the island with him on the ferry. But something was wrong. One of them was missing.
The taller guy stepped forward and held up a hand.
"Hey. You two okay?"
Heroca stood. "I remember you. You were on the boat. But… there were three of you."
The girl beside the man looked down, her expression tight.
"She's gone," the guy said. "They took her."
Chiko joined Heroca at his side. "What do you mean 'they'?"
The guy let out a bitter breath. "A man. Not… normal. He came in dressed like a doctor — full white coat, gloves, goggles. But it wasn't for healing. He walked in like this was his lab, and we were his property."
The girl spoke next. Her voice was quiet, but steady. "He called the missing girl 'Lila'. Took her without a word."
Heroca's fists clenched. "Why didn't you stop him?"
The guy's eyes narrowed. "We couldn't. Right before he entered, a gas filled the room. Something invisible — it made us slow. Weak. Couldn't move. Couldn't scream. Felt like we were drowning in our own skin."
Chiko looked around. "And he didn't say anything?"
The girl nodded. "Not at first. But after he took her… he laughed."
The air changed.
A voice echoed through the room.
Smooth. Cold. Detached. But human — barely.
"Ahhh. So the new ones are awake."
Heroca stepped forward. "Who the hell are you?"
The voice chuckled.
"How rude of me. I forget how sensitive you flesh-types are. I'm just a collector. A fixer of sorts. You break… I fix."
The light bulb flickered once. Then again.
"Let me guess — you're wondering where your friend is."
Heroca's fists clenched. "Where is Lila?"
A low hum filled the room. The kind you hear in dead hospitals. In basements. In surgical theaters that haven't been cleaned in years.
"She was a lovely specimen. Took well to the injection. Muscles twitching beautifully. Bones—ahh, bones. So fragile, so fun."
The girl — Ziva — covered her mouth.
The guy — Claous — stepped between Heroca and the wall.
The voice laughed again.
"You want to hear her? Of course you do. Humans crave closure."
A static crackled. Somewhere far away, a scream rang out — high and broken. Lila. It was her. Her cries turned to howls. Then to gurgling. Then silence.
"Ahhh. Damn. Not again."The voice sighed."Well. That experiment failed. But don't worry — I have four more test subjects. Let's see if I can find perfection in one of you."
The light dimmed.
The voice paused.
Then:
"Oh. Right. My name. How careless of me.""I am Deckfern."
The name throbbed in the room like a wound.
"Once a doctor. Now… let's say I've evolved. I don't need flesh. But yours will do just fine."
Heroca whispered, "What are you?"
The voice sharpened, closer now — as if speaking into his ear.
"Don't flinch. I need that nerve intact.""It's rare I find such a perfect spine."
Silence.
Then the final line:
"Well then… let's see who I pick next."
The lights went out.
Chapter End.