You awaken to the emergency of your departure, but the being that has hunted you ever since you stepped into the room of the mad man has no reasons to give you up.
All you can do is cling to hope, but even the notion that hope dies last becomes a challenge to your will. You feel your legs weigh...
You may have very well missed your opportunity to escape. The beacon is way deep into the void, thus it is unlikely that you will be able to catch up with the entity that accompanied you.
To try and speak with the one that has been trying to capture and devour you does not seem wise, though it...
You seem lost.
Perhaps you should backtrack a little.
Was there something you skipped? Something you didn't notice?
Think, Elliott.
Something's missing.
The entity plucks you out of the room.
You are back in the void, surrounded by black and standing on the remaining floor of your room. The door is still open and the glint continues to distance itself from you. Perhaps your mind has grown dull, or whatever you face keeps a shorter leash of your...
"Heh."
You hear the sliding of metal and a fit from the other side. The key is turned and a section of the wall is pushed and opened. You peer into the darkness in front of you and can only see a glint not far from you.
The room's brightness decays from the brightness of white to the corrupted...
Sure enough, you do find a keyhole behind one of those pages. However, as the whole room crumbles around you, you are left with one simple question.
Where is the key?
There is no time. The black that swallowed the previous room and the man whole is emerging from the center of the floor. It...
You feel the floor stir as you rush to collect the unknown pages. You should realize a pattern, as you remove a full line of the eastern wall. The gap you made reveals some words written in black.
Find the keyhole.
So many pages to turn, so little time to waste.
"If you say so." It tsks...
"Duh!"
You couldn't ask for a better partner in this. The voice grows quiet for a few moments. If you stare at the ground, the tiny circle will have formed into a spiral. You can barely see it, but its lines are beginning to extend under your feet, getting bigger and quite revealing.
"As...
You look around the white room. You screen the place from right to left and left to right.
Apart from the sketches and drawings on the wall, you feel an eery presence. It is not like the one inside of you, as you cannot feel anything but its will when it tries to act on your behalf.
"It wasn't...
The room twists around you. You are hit by the debris, fragments of the world around you being swallowed by the void that grows from the core, where once a table used to rest.
However, in your hopelessness, the dagger vibrates as you slash, tearing at the fabric of this dream's reality. The...
As you arrange the pages, the man begins to work on the table itself. A keener observation reveals that there are no more pages for the man to work on. However, as he focuses what little strength he has on his work of art, you could almost swear that the room you're in is getting... bigger...
"Hello?"
You hear a frail voice in the darkness. The pale man appears, looking at you with an expression mixed in confusion and sadness. His skin is stuck to his cheekbones and his crazed glare has settled into a lost gaze.
"Hello? Twirl." He licks his upper lip, then nibbles on the bottom's...
You have no recollection of the dagger before this instance. You feel its edge driving you. You use the poor lighting from the flickering flame to see the rusted blade. It is obviously old, but you feel you could cut through anything with it. In the back of your head, there is something pulling...
He is not ready for your gaze, let alone your touch. His reaction is the peak of agitation, a bounce away from you and a trip on the treacherous stool that sends him against the ground. The man has not noticed your weapon, but he scurries off into the darkness opposite to where you retreat...
The man is adamant in finishing his work. The lines he makes are swifter and sharper.
You take notice of some of his work, specifically the pages that are on top of the scattered pile. At first, it seems like jibberish. Triangles and squares are oddly alligned, seemingly random. The circles are...
"Good night, Elliott."
Your father's warm and quiet voice sets the tone to a silent welcome from the darkness. The only candle still lit is on the other end of the hallway, in your parents' room.
Surrounded by all you hold dear, you feel a rising comfort as you sink onto the mattress. It's a...