Aether's Legacy | Elysium [Dreamnotfound]

Psyche

"Are you sure we're in the right place?" Skeppy asked.

"This is the only government-owned research lab in Seattle. If there's any else, then they'd be completely under wrap. I got Fundy to cross-reference all research facilities he could find. There's no other place but here. If you go in, you might be able to find something to point you in the right direction," Wilbur said.

It couldn't be. There had to be a mistake. They had traveled across nine states to find their friend only to come to face a broken-down facility at the end of their journey. Dream opened the van door and stepped out, staring at the fence in disbelief. George trailed behind, silent.

"This is as far as I go," Wilbur said from the front seat. "But if you need us, you know where to find us."

"Thanks for everything," George said.

"Yeah, for everything..." Dream added.

"You guys be careful. Fundy's going to keep the police off your arse for as long as he can. If you need refuge after, just come to us. I'm sure Phil wouldn't mind, and we've got plenty of connections in different places. We can make you disappear."

They were still quiet. George hadn't stopped staring at the towering fence in front of him. It looked like the entrance to a prison courtyard. It was terribly ironic, really, the fact he had spent over half of his life terrified of places like this and now he was willfully walking into one.

"We'll keep it in mind," Dream said. With a hard pull, the chains holding the two gates together came apart, and they were in.

Entering the building was easy. There were craters and broken windows on every side of the wasted structure. As soon as they walked in, George was bombarded with the hefty energy scarred into the walls of the facility. It made him short of breath and disoriented, and he had to stop to gauge his surroundings.

It was like the building itself was struggling to wake from a never-ending nightmare with all the torturous memories living in its shadow. He didn't know nor did he want to find out the kind of operations it had run during its day. Yet despite the overwhelming need to run away from the place, he also felt a strange connection to it.

"Are you okay, George?"

George realized he had been frozen in the middle of the hallway staring into nothingness. He raised his chin to meet Dream's eyes with uncertainty.

"You can wait for us outside if you want."

His fingers gripped the crystal on his neck, and he shook his head. "No. It's fine. I'm fine."

"I think I found something," Skeppy's voice echoed from down the hallway.

After glancing at each other momentarily, they followed his voice to a room at the end of the hallway. As soon as George stepped inside, his knees nearly buckled under his weight. A memory—not his own—flashed in his vision.

An office. Incessant tapping of a pen against a clipboard. Lavender air freshener. The blurry image of a person sitting in front of him. Pale thumbs on his lap rolling over each other in circles. A grandfather clock counting down each second. The hour hand pointed toward the tip of a bird's wing.

"The voice. It doesn't stop. I think something's wrong with me."

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick—

"George."

He blinked, and he was standing in front of a grandfather clock. It was frozen in time. The once fine chocolate wood was dusted all over and chipped with scratches. The golden pendulum and weights were now stained with a murky hue. The white face of the clock had turned yellow with dirty spots smeared on the cracked glass. The only untouched beautiful remnant was that of the swirling bird on its face. George couldn't take his eyes off it. Another memory edged in his mind, but his instincts blocked it out, almost like it was too painful to remember. He clutched his necklace tighter, trying to swallow the heaviness weighing in his throat.