Shadows Never Speak

Part 1: Into the Shadows

The streets were eerily quiet as Elliot parked his car a block away from 1730 Meridian Avenue. He killed the engine and sat in the dark, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. His mind raced with every possible scenario.

This was a trap. He knew that much. Whoever—or whatever—had sent the text wanted him here, alone, at midnight. Yet here he was, a flashlight tucked into his jacket and the leather-bound book clutched tightly in his hands.

The house loomed in the distance, its broken facade illuminated by the faint glow of a streetlight. From here, it looked dead, but Elliot could feel the weight of something alive within it—something watching, waiting.

He exhaled sharply, steeling his nerves, and stepped out of the car. The cold night air bit at his skin as he approached the house, his footsteps crunching on the gravel driveway. The whispers began before he even reached the front steps, faint and indistinct, curling around him like smoke.

The cellar door was open this time, its heavy padlock lying broken on the ground. Elliot hesitated at the threshold, his flashlight beam slicing through the darkness below. The whispers grew louder, more urgent, as though they were beckoning him inside.

With a deep breath, he descended the stairs, his pulse pounding in his ears.

Part 2: The Gathering

The chamber was just as he remembered it—cold, damp, and oppressive. The symbols on the walls seemed to shimmer in the faint light, their labyrinthine patterns pulling at his gaze.

But this time, he wasn't alone.

A group of figures stood in a loose circle around the altar, their faces hidden beneath dark hoods. Candles flickered in their hands, casting long, twisting shadows on the walls.

Elliot's breath caught in his throat. He ducked behind a crumbling pillar, his heart hammering in his chest. He peered out cautiously, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

The figures moved in unison, their voices rising in a low, guttural chant. The sound was ancient and unnatural, vibrating in the air like a living thing. Elliot strained to make out the words, but they were in a language he didn't recognize.

On the altar lay an object covered by a black cloth. The figures surrounded it, their hands outstretched, as though offering something unseen.

Elliot's mind raced. What is this? A ritual? A sacrifice?

His foot slipped on the damp ground, the sound echoing through the chamber. The chanting stopped abruptly, and the hooded figures turned as one, their gazes locking onto his hiding spot.

"Who's there?" one of them called out, their voice sharp and commanding.

Elliot's stomach dropped. He scrambled backward, his flashlight flickering as he moved.

"Get him," the voice growled.

Part 3: The Pursuit

Elliot bolted, his footsteps splashing through the shallow puddles that covered the floor. The whispers roared in his ears, mixing with the shouts of the hooded figures behind him.

"Stop!" one of them yelled, their voice echoing off the stone walls.

Elliot didn't look back. He darted through the chamber, his flashlight beam bouncing wildly as he searched for an exit. He could hear their footsteps growing closer, their shadows flickering at the edges of his vision.

His path led him deeper into the labyrinthine tunnels beneath the house. The air grew colder, the walls narrowing until he was nearly scraping his shoulders against the stone. The whispers grew louder, more distinct, as though they were guiding him.

"Left," they seemed to say. "Go left."

Elliot turned sharply, the sound of his pursuers fading slightly behind him. He didn't know where he was going, but the whispers seemed to know.

He stumbled into another chamber, this one smaller and dimly lit by a single, flickering candle. In the center of the room stood a mirror—tall and ornate, its frame carved with the same symbols that adorned the walls.

Elliot approached cautiously, his reflection shimmering in the distorted glass. The whispers seemed to emanate from the mirror itself, their voices overlapping in a cacophony of warnings and pleas.

"Don't look."

"It's watching."

"Run."

But Elliot couldn't tear his eyes away. His reflection stared back at him, but it wasn't quite right. The face in the mirror was his, but the eyes... the eyes were wrong.

Before he could react, the shadows behind him coalesced into a shape. A hand clamped down on his shoulder, yanking him away from the mirror.

Part 4: The Truth Revealed

Elliot spun around to face his captor, his flashlight falling to the ground. Standing before him was Daniel, his face pale and drawn.

"You shouldn't be here," Daniel said, his voice low and urgent.

Elliot stared at him, his mind racing. "What is this place? What are they doing?"

Daniel glanced over his shoulder, his expression grim. "They're keeping the door open. And you're making it worse by being here."

"The door?" Elliot repeated, his voice rising. "What door? What the hell is going on?"

Daniel grabbed him by the collar, his eyes burning with intensity. "Listen to me," he said. "The alley isn't just a place. It's a threshold—to something older than this world, something that shouldn't exist. The Circle has been protecting it for generations, feeding it, keeping it contained."

Elliot's mind reeled. "Feeding it? With people?"

Daniel's grip tightened. "You think you're the first one to come looking for answers? The alley doesn't just take people—it chooses them. And once it chooses you, there's no way out."

Elliot shook his head, disbelief and fear warring within him. "Emily—she's still alive, isn't she? The alley took her, but she's still there."

Daniel's expression darkened. "If she's alive, it's not in any way you'd recognize."

The sound of footsteps echoed through the tunnel, drawing closer. Daniel released him, his gaze flicking toward the entrance.

"They're coming," he said. "If they catch you, you'll wish the alley had taken you instead."

Part 5: The Escape

Elliot didn't need to be told twice. He grabbed his flashlight and bolted, following Daniel as they navigated the twisting tunnels. The whispers seemed to follow them, growing louder and more chaotic with every step.

"This way!" Daniel shouted, leading him down a narrow passage that opened into another chamber.

Elliot stumbled after him, his lungs burning and his legs screaming in protest. The chamber was empty, save for a ladder leading up to a rusted hatch. Daniel motioned for him to climb.

"Hurry!"

Elliot scrambled up the ladder, his hands slipping on the damp rungs. He shoved the hatch open and hauled himself out, collapsing onto the ground outside. The night air was sharp and cold, a stark contrast to the suffocating heat of the tunnels below.

Daniel emerged moments later, slamming the hatch shut behind him. He leaned against it, his chest heaving as he caught his breath.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the distant hum of the city, a fragile reminder that the world above still existed.

Finally, Elliot broke the silence. "Why are you helping me?"

Daniel's gaze was distant, his expression unreadable. "Because I've been where you are," he said quietly. "And I know what it's like to lose everything to that place."

Elliot stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. He didn't know what Daniel's story was, but one thing was clear: the alley had taken something from him too.

As they stood there in the dark, the whispers began to fade, retreating into the depths below. But Elliot knew they weren't gone.

The alley wasn't finished with him yet.