Steve stepped forward, deeper into the dark room. The shadows pressed close, cold and heavy. The air smelled old, like rotting wood and wet earth. His heart beat fast, but he didn't stop.
Suddenly, the world changed around him. He was not in the hallway anymore. He was somewhere else. Somewhere far in the past.
It was a village. A large village, alive and full of people. Children ran through the streets, laughing and shouting. Smoke rose from chimneys. People were trading, working, smiling. Everything was peaceful.
Steve watched silently. He felt like he could reach out, touch the ground, smell the bread from the bakery. This was life before darkness.
But beyond the village, disaster had struck. A flood, a storm, something natural and terrible had destroyed another village nearby. Homeless people arrived at this village, looking for help. Their clothes were torn, faces pale from hunger.
The villagers argued. Some wanted to help. Some refused. But hunger and anger grew in the hearts of the newcomers. They began to struggle, some dying from the lack of food.
Among them was a girl in a white dress. Her eyes were wide, haunted, but she survived. Others came with her, desperate, weak.
When the villagers refused to give them enough help, the survivors' anger turned to hatred. They wanted revenge. And to get it, they called a black magician.
Steve felt cold as he saw the ritual. Flames burned around a circle. Strange symbols were drawn in blood. The magician chanted words Steve didn't understand, and then… a door appeared.
It was dark, black as night, with shadows moving inside it. No one in the village could see what it really was, only that it radiated fear. The magician had opened a curse—a door linking the village to the Null Realm, a place where only curses and darkness lived.
At first, nothing seemed to happen. The villagers laughed at the newcomers' fear. But slowly, the peace of the village began to break.
Children started disappearing. One by one, parents cried, searching. The villagers realized too late what they had unleashed. The door brought only darkness.
Desperate, the villagers searched for a way to stop it. They discovered the ritual could only be undone by one person, a boy brave enough to enter the door carrying holy water and use it at the root of the curse.
Then a boy stepped forward. He had calm eyes and steady hands. He said simply, "I'm ready."
Steve's stomach tightened. The boy looked exactly like him. His hair, his face… almost the same.
The boy entered the door. Inside, the world twisted, shadows crawling along walls and ceilings. The boy poured the holy water at the base of the curse. Flames hissed, shadows shrieked, and then… silence.
The curse stopped—for a moment.
But it was not gone. The darkness remained. It fed on human anger, fear, and sadness. Especially from the young. Every negative emotion made it stronger, waiting for the next chance.
The vision ended.
Steve blinked. He was back inside the dark room. The shadows around him were thicker now. He saw a hand in the corner—gray, twisted, not like a human hand. Another hand reached from the darkness. He raised his torch.
The light hit the shadow.
A face stared back.
It was a mimic—half human, half shadow. Its eyes hollow, its mouth wide and frozen in a grin.
Steve stumbled back. His heart jumped. He raised the torch higher, and the shadow hissed, a sound like broken glass scraping on stone.
The darkness pressed closer, and the torch flickered.
And then… it ended there.