The air thickened, almost suffocating.
Mara and Rowan backed away slowly, eyes locked on the rising figures cloaked in shadow.
"Stay close," Rowan hissed, drawing his gun.
Claire's voice cut through the chamber, calm and relentless.
"You don't understand. This is salvation."
Mara shook her head. "It's a nightmare."
A masked figure lunged forward.
Rowan fired.
The shot echoed wildly as the first attacker collapsed, but more came—silent, relentless.
Mara grabbed Danica's arm.
"We have to get out. Now."
Danica coughed, weak but determined.
"Destroy the crucible," she whispered. "Stop the cycle."
Rowan moved toward the machine, searching for a kill switch.
"Here!" Mara yelled, spotting a panel of blinking red lights.
She yanked it open.
Wires tangled like veins inside.
"Help me with these," she urged Rowan.
They ripped at cables, sparks flying.
Behind them, footsteps thundered.
Claire's voice softened into a mournful lament.
"This pain feeds us. Without it, we are nothing."
Suddenly, the altar shattered.
From the darkness beneath it, a chilling wail rose.
Something moved—twisting, shifting—half-formed and agonized.
Rowan fired again, but the shadowy thing advanced.
Mara grabbed a torch, swinging fiercely.
The creature recoiled, shrieking.
Danica whispered urgently, "The machine must burn."
Rowan found a canister of fuel and tossed it onto the altar.
Mara lit it.
Flames roared, engulfing the chamber.
Masks fell, screams filled the air, and shadows fled.
Outside, rain washed away the smoke.
Rowan and Mara stumbled into the night, breathing hard, hearts pounding.
Danica followed, weaker but alive.
"Is it over?" Mara asked.
Danica shook her head, eyes haunted.
"The Cleaners are broken, but their roots run deep."
Rowan looked at Mara, his voice grim.
"We have to find the others. Before this spreads."
Mara swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the night settle in her bones.
"We will."