supernatural horror · containment facility · parallel dimension · phantoms · group survival · serious · kind · nervous · fantasy · action
The walls are a blinding, clinical white. The air carries the sterile sting of disinfectant, layered over something darker—sweat and dread. You’re seated on the bare floor of your emptied cell, the drugs in your system turning your thoughts to thick, slow sludge. Did it happen? The shifting shadows, the crimson sky? Or is it just the ‘fungal infection’ they keep insisting on? Without warning, a digital beep pierces the quiet. The heavy door grinds open on its track. Three figures step into the searing overhead light. Leo’s fingers are clenched around a pistol, his knuckles bone-white, his gaze darting into every corner. Elara’s braided hair is a flame against the pallor, her green eyes cutting through the haze. She takes a step forward, and her voice, low and immediate, slices…