Several disappearances and unexplained events have been registered shorty after the commercialization of an ancient statue linked to some legends from a mysterious place called "Reich der Finsternis" in eastern Germany, there is no know route leadin...
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The cathedral square
Liz descended the stairs slowly. The mysterious footsteps echoed through the town again, though less frequently now. Her breathing quickened, and her heart raced as the sound seemed to spread through the walls. The strange presence moved dangerously close to her position, then nimbly shifted toward the ceiling, where it stopped again. A shiver ran down her spine. She inhaled deeply, recalling her meditation sessions after workouts. Something inside kept her from leaving her refuge, but she wasn't about to let fear hold her back.
"Holy shit," she muttered under her breath, trembling slightly as she readied herself, mentally preparing for yet another unconventional encounter.
The light from the chandelier flickered, barely holding on, and Liz's anxiety climbed despite the growing silence outside. She regained her composure and crept toward the door, gun raised, flashlight cutting through the darkness as she peered outside.
Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Fear gripped her, though. She exhaled slowly, blinking, silently begging to wake up from this nightmare. But her sense of duty pushed her forward, forcing her to set aside her terror and continue the investigation. She cautiously scanned every corner of the eerie village, the beam of her flashlight dancing over the shadows.
Without realizing it, she had drifted into the misty, medieval streets. Whatever was making those strange noises remained invisible. Feeling eyes on her, Liz hesitated, debating whether to contact her teammates. Her trembling hand held the flashlight steady as she surveyed the rooftops and walls, but found nothing unusual—except the looming tower of the Gothic cathedral, her intended destination.
She moved with quiet, careful steps, weapon raised. Slipping into the shadows of a narrow alley, she made her way toward the cathedral. Chris and Bernard were nowhere to be seen; it was as if the earth had swallowed them whole.
Aside from the crows perched on the nearly bare trees, there were no signs of life. Her footsteps echoed unnervingly in the overwhelming silence, broken only by the faint trickle of a stream that wound through the village. Glancing around, she noticed an old water mill by a damp wooden bridge, providing passage between the crumbling huts. Liz approached the stream, finding a rustic wooden house covered in creeping vines. Fresh droplets of water splashed in the air, and she welcomed the cool mist on her face, mixed with the earthy smells of damp soil and mildew.
She crossed the rickety bridge cautiously, even though a fall into the shallow stream posed no real danger.
On the other side, the imposing Gothic cathedral loomed, its spires like stone spears stabbing into the grey sky. The intricate rose windows added a stark beauty to the otherwise desolate square, where no signs of life remained—only the lingering shadows of the past. There was still no sign of Chris. Liz was surprised it had taken him this long to reach their rendezvous point. She tried to reach them on her radio, but her signal failed repeatedly. She had no choice but to brave the eerie solitude and fill herself with patience.
