Chapter 17: The Breaking Point
Elias stared at the phone, frozen, the voicemail replaying in his mind over and over. Grayson’s voice—alive. The town—normal. The memories of the underground caverns, the child with eyes like voids, the pulse of the earth beneath him—none of it made sense anymore.
A sudden knock at the door yanked him from his stupor.
“Elias?” It was Grayson’s voice.
Elias’s breath hitched. His heart raced. This couldn’t be happening. Could it?
He opened the door, and there stood Grayson. No traces of the horrors beneath the earth. No dark veins, no hollow eyes. Just Grayson, standing there, looking as normal as the day they had first met.
“I figured you’d be asleep, but it’s getting late. You alright?” Grayson’s eyes were filled with concern.
Elias swallowed hard. His mind was a whirlwind of confusion and dread. “I—I don’t know. Something’s wrong. Something’s—”
But before he could finish, the world shifted again.
Everything around him twisted and blurred, as though reality itself was being rewritten. The walls of his apartment flickered, the sunlight dimmed, and a cold wind rushed through the room. Grayson’s figure began to waver, as if he were made of smoke.
“Grayson?!” Elias shouted, but it was no use. Grayson’s form disappeared into thin air.
The apartment was now a hollow shell, like a set of an abandoned movie. The lights flickered once more and then went out.
Elias was no longer in the apartment. He stood in a familiar place. The chapel.
The same chapel they had visited, the one from his nightmares. The air was thick with the same stench of decay. The same cold touch on his skin.
“No,” Elias muttered, shaking his head. “I can’t be here again. Not now. Not like this.”
But as he turned, he saw the stone staircase leading down into the darkness once more. He had no choice but to go. The whispers were back—louder this time. They surrounded him, seeping into his very thoughts.
"You should have never returned," they hissed. "The earth always claims what is hers."
He descended the stairs, the sound of his footsteps deafening in the oppressive silence. His flashlight barely illuminated the space, casting long, eerie shadows.
When he reached the bottom, the corridor stretched before him, just like before. The walls were covered in names—hundreds, thousands. But now, something was different.
He saw new names.
Emily Thornton – March 12, 2025. Sheriff Grayson – March 14, 2025. Elias Thorne – March 15, 2025.
His blood ran cold. His name was there, alongside Grayson’s.
Then, from the end of the corridor, the whispers grew louder. They were no longer just whispers—they were voices. All speaking at once.
"You cannot escape," they cried.
And then, the ground beneath his feet cracked.
Something large, something ancient, stirred in the depths. A dark, massive shape rose from the shadows, its eyes glowing like molten fire.
It was the thing from the beginning.
The one that had haunted his every step.
“You belong to me, Elias Thorne.”
A scream rose in his throat.
But it was swallowed by the roar of the earth.
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