Serena: Eternal

The chill that clung to Darren’s skin wasn’t the dampness of the German countryside, but the icy grip of a truth far colder than any winter. He looked at Asia, her face a mask of dawning horror, then at Joseph, his eyes wide and unseeing, trapped in a silent scream. Marty. Marty was gone, a brutal testament to the price of their quest. But as the faint sunlight, a cruel mockery of warmth, touched the ravaged ballroom, something shifted. The dust motes dancing in the light seemed to freeze, then swirl backward. The screams that had echoed moments ago, Marty’s final agony, receded, replaced by a chillingly familiar silence.

“You can check out anytime you like,” a voice purred, dripping with an ancient amusement that curdled the air. It wasn’t loud, but it resonated in their very bones, a cruel lullaby sung by the darkness itself. “But you can never leave!”

Darren’s breath hitched. He looked at his hands, the spectral residue of Marty’s blood still clinging to his fingertips. But then, as he blinked, the blood was gone, replaced by the phantom warmth of his own skin. He looked at the ballroom doors, which had been sealed shut just moments before, now standing ajar, revealing a dimly lit corridor. A corridor they had walked down countless times since their arrival.