"Choi!" Han steps forward, weapon still raised but voice softening. "We need to get you out of here. Whatever this is, we can help you."
Choi's bloody fingers pause in their terrible work. His eyes fix on us with unnerving clarity amid the ruin of his face.
"You don't understand," he whispers. "None of you understand. I've been fighting it for so long. Since I was a child. The voice. His voice."
A tremor runs through the chamber, dust falling from the ancient ceiling. The whispers in my head crescendo, threatening to drown out all other thought.
"But I failed," Choi continues, blood dripping steadily onto the carved symbol beneath him. "The ritual wasn't meant to summon Him. It was meant to bind Him. To silence Him forever."
Han signals two officers to circle around Choi while keeping his own attention fixed on the bleeding man.
"Who is 'Him,' Superintendent?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady despite the pounding in my skull.
Choi's laugh is hollow, echoing off the walls. "He has many names. None of them matter. What matters is that He speaks. And those who hear Him... change." His bloody hand gestures toward the chamber entrance. "Like those poor souls upstairs. They heard Him too late. Their bodies changed, but their minds were already gone."
Another tremor, stronger this time. The carvings on the floor begin to glow with a sickly green light, pulsing in rhythm with the whispers.
"The ritual," Choi gasps, "I thought I could complete it. Silence Him once and for all. But I was wrong. So wrong."
His eyes suddenly widen, fixed on something behind us. "He's here."
We turn as one, weapons raised toward the darkness behind us. The whispers reach a deafening roar inside my head, and then...
Silence. Complete and total silence.
A figure steps from the shadows. A man in an impeccable suit, untouched by the grime and decay surrounding us. His face is pleasant, unremarkable. Ordinary in every way. Yet looking at him fills me with a dread so profound I can barely breathe.
"Detective," the man says, his voice like honey. "You've been looking for me."
"Who are you?" Han demands, his weapon trained on the stranger.
The man smiles, and somehow that smile contains multitudes – all of them terrible.
"I am the voice in Superintendent Choi's head. The voice in so many heads throughout history." His gaze slides to me, and I feel him inside my mind, sifting through my thoughts like fingers through sand. "The voice that's been whispering to you since you entered this place."
Beside me, Detective Song makes a small, frightened sound. The other officers shift uneasily.
"You're too late to stop what's begun," the man continues, still smiling. "But I appreciate your dedication. Truly."
Choi rises suddenly, his bloody hands forming fists. "No! I can still finish it!"
He lunges toward the man, but freezes mid-step, his body contorting unnaturally. The man hasn't moved, hasn't even blinked. He simply looks at Choi with mild disappointment.
"Oh, Superintendent. After all this time, you still don't understand. The ritual was never meant to bind me." His smile widens. "It was meant to free me."
The symbols on the floor pulse brighter, the green light washing over us in waves. Choi begins to scream, a sound of pure agony that cuts through the silence.
Han fires. The shot echoes deafeningly in the chamber. But the man is no longer where he stood. Somehow, he's now beside Han, his hand resting on Han's shoulder.
"Weapons can't help you here, Detective," he says softly.
Then his gaze falls on me again, and his expression changes to one of genuine interest.
"But you... you hear me differently, don't you?" He steps closer. "Not just the whispers. You understand what they're saying."
It's true. Since entering this place, the whispers have formed into words, into meaning. Into a terrible truth I've been trying to deny.
"The ritual," I say, the words coming unbidden. "It needs blood. A willing sacrifice."
The man's smile is radiant now. "Precisely."
Choi collapses to his knees again, blood pooling around him on the glowing symbols. "I tried," he gasps. "For years, I tried to resist. To find another way."
"And you bought time," I tell him, understanding dawning. "You delayed this moment. But it was always coming."
I step forward, toward the center of the chamber. The whispers in my head clarify into perfect understanding. I see the ritual as it was meant to be – not to summon or to bind, but to choose. To select the next vessel.
Han grabs my arm. "What are you doing?"
"What needs to be done," I reply, my voice sounding distant to my own ears. "What Choi couldn't finish."
The man watches with evident pleasure. "Yes. You understand."
I reach the center of the symbol, standing over Choi's trembling form. The green light pulses through me, through all of us. I know what must happen next.
But in that moment of terrible clarity, I see something else – a small detail in the carving beneath our feet. A line not quite connecting. A symbol incomplete.
"No," I whisper, understanding flooding through me. "That's not how it ends."
I turn to face the man, whose smile has faltered slightly.
"You've been trapped here all this time," I say. "Not free. Never free. Just... waiting. For someone to complete the ritual incorrectly. To let you out."
His eyes narrow, the pleasant facade slipping. "Clever. But it changes nothing."
"It changes everything," I say, and kneel beside Choi. With one swift movement, I take his hand and press it to the floor, completing the broken line with his blood.
The effect is instantaneous. The green light flares blindingly bright, and the man – the thing pretending to be a man – screams in fury.
"What have you done?" he roars, his face contorting, revealing something ancient and terrible beneath the human mask.
"Finished what was started," I answer as the chamber begins to shake violently around us. "Bound you, as was always intended."
The symbols blaze now, burning with cold fire that spreads across the floor, up the walls, encircling the howling figure at their center. His form shifts and twists, no longer able to maintain its human appearance.
"Everyone out!" Han shouts, pulling officers toward the door. "Now!"
Choi convulses violently, blood now pouring from his eyes and ears. "It won't hold forever," he gasps, his voice barely audible. "Nothing ever does."
The chamber shakes violently, ancient stones breaking loose from the ceiling.
"Everyone out now!" Han shouts, pulling officers toward the door.
I try to lift Choi, but he pushes me away with surprising strength. "No," he whispers. "I'm finished. This is where it ends for me."
His body seizes one final time before going still, eyes fixed on the collapsing ceiling above.
"We have to go!" Han shouts, grabbing my arm.
I turn to follow, but a massive stone crashes down between us, cutting me off from the exit. More debris falls, blocking any path of escape.
"Go!" I shout to Han through the narrowing gap. "Get everyone out!"
The last thing I see is Han's anguished face as he's pulled away by Detective Song. Then the gap closes completely as more of the ceiling gives way.
Trapped in the collapsing chamber, I crawl back toward the center where Choi's body lies. The entity howls in fury as the binding takes hold, the green light pulsing brighter and brighter until it's blinding.
The last of the ceiling comes down. Something heavy strikes my head. Darkness claims me.
***
I drift in darkness, buried beneath tons of stone and earth. The air grows thinner with each labored breath.
Then I hear it.
"Detective..." A voice whispers in my mind. Smooth. Honeyed. Familiar.
My heart races. No. It can't be. We bound him. Sealed him away.
"Did you think it would be so easy?" The voice of Bundy purrs. "Did you think you could escape me?"
Panic grips me. It was all for nothing. The ritual failed. Choi died for nothing.
"I've always been here," the voice continues. "Always will be."
But something changes. The voice... shifts. Transforms.
"Son..." A different voice now. Warm. Achingly familiar.
"Mom?" I whisper into the darkness.
"We're so proud of you," my father's voice joins in. "You've been so brave."
Tears stream down my face. The voices of my parents, lost so many years ago, fill my mind with the comfort I've craved since their deaths.
"We love you," my mother's voice soothes. "We've always loved you."
I reach out into the darkness, trying to touch them, to hold onto them—
"Detective! Can you hear me?"
A different voice now, urgent and real. Hands shaking me.
My eyes snap open to see Han's face, illuminated by emergency lights, streaked with dirt and sweat. Rescue workers swarm around us, pulling away debris.
"You're alive," Han breathes, relief washing over his features. "Stay with us!"
The voices of my parents fade, leaving only Han's urgent commands and the sounds of the rescue team. Was it real? A hallucination from oxygen deprivation? Or something else entirely?
They lift me onto a stretcher, checking my vital signs. Han walks alongside as they carry me through the rubble of what used to be the church.
Neither of us speaks. What is there to say? The horror we witnessed defies explanation. Han doesn't press me with questions, and I'm grateful for the silence.
The ambulance doors close, and we ride to the hospital in quiet contemplation, the ruins of the church disappearing behind us.
***
Three months later, I sit at my desk in the police station, the rhythmic clicking of keyboards and murmur of voices creating a comforting background noise. Normality. Or what passes for it these days.
The cup of coffee beside me has gone cold, forgotten as I review the case files in front of me – my parents' case. Still unsolved after all these years. But now, after everything that happened at the church, I wonder if there might be connections I never saw before.
Choi's case remains officially open. The official report cites a "structural collapse" at the abandoned church. Nothing about ancient rituals or voices in the dark. Nothing about rotting, walking corpses. Some truths are too dangerous to commit to paper.
The investigation continues, with teams carefully excavating the church ruins. They've found old documents, strange artifacts, and bones that carbon dating suggests are centuries old. But no answers. Not really.
Han stops by my desk, placing a fresh cup of coffee beside me.
"How's it going?" he asks, nodding toward my parents' file.
"Slow," I admit. "But I'm not giving up."
He nods, understanding. We don't talk about what happened. Not directly. But sometimes I catch him watching me, concern etched in the lines of his face, questions burning behind his eyes.
The voices haven't returned. My head remains blissfully quiet. No whispers. No ancient entity trying to claw its way into our world. But sometimes, in dreams, I hear my parents again – their warmth, their love, their presence a comfort rather than a terror.
I don't know if what we faced is truly gone, or just waiting. I don't know if the voices I heard were real or imagined. But I do know that somewhere in my parents' case file, there might be connections to what happened at that church. And I will find them.
One thing at a time. One mystery at a time.
I turn the page and continue reading.
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