The corridor outside Alexei's room was quiet, save for the faint creak of the old wooden floors and the distant murmur of voices echoing through the labyrinthine asylum. He had been told to rest, but sleep eluded him. The drugs they had given him left him with a foggy mind and a heightened sense of unease.

  He stood at his window, the glass thick and distorted, offering a blurred view of the asylum grounds. The rain had stopped, but the air remained thick and heavy, as if holding its breath in anticipation of the next storm. Alexei's gaze drifted to the shadows cast by the ancient oaks that lined the perimeter of the property. They swayed gently, as if alive, their branches clawing at the heavens.

  It was then that he noticed it—a flicker of movement beyond the trees. A shadow that wasn’t quite a shadow, shifting and twisting in ways that defied logic. Alexei blinked, trying to convince himself it was merely a trick of the light, but the figure remained, its outline distorted and unsettling.

  His breath caught in his throat as a cold dread crept up his spine. He turned away from the window, his eyes scanning the room for some source of comfort, but everything seemed off. The paintings on the walls seemed to shift ever so slightly, their subjects staring at him with an intensity that made his skin crawl.

  Unable to shake the unease, Alexei left his room and wandered the labyrinthine corridors of Blackthorn Asylum. The air grew colder as he moved deeper into the building, the faint sound of dripping water echoing through the distance. The walls here were lined with old photographs, each one depicting a patient from a bygone era. Their faces were blurred, their expressions hidden, but there was something unnerving about the way their eyes seemed to follow him as he passed.

  As he turned a corner, Alexei stopped in his tracks. Carved into the stone wall was a symbol he had never seen before—an intricate circle intersected by rune-like lines, surrounded by what looked like ancient script. His heart raced as he reached out to touch it, the coolness of the stone grounding him.

  But the moment his fingers made contact, the world around him shifted.

  Breath: ragged, shallow. Smells: earth, decay, something chemical burning. Sounds: distant crying, the low hum of machinery. A familiar face... but distorted.

  Alexei's vision blurred, and he was pulled into a memory that wasn’t his own. He saw a younger version of himself, standing in a room filled with strange machines and flickering lights. The air was thick with tension, and the young Alexei’s eyes were filled with a mixture of fear and determination. He held a syringe in his hand, the serum inside glowing with an eerie light.

  The vision shifted.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  A dark corridor, faces pressed against the glass of the windows. Whispers following him, growing louder, more insistent. "They’re watching. They’re waiting."

  Another flicker, and Alexei found himself in a courtroom. Men in suits sat at a long table, their faces cold and calculating. A name was being spoken—Alexei’s name. Accusations were thrown around, the air thick with betrayal.

  The visions came faster now, each one more disorienting than the last.

  Flames. Screams. A figure in the distance, cloaked in black garb, their face obscured by the hood. "Remember your purpose," a voice echoed. "You are the key."

  Alexei staggered as the visions subsided, his head spinning. He leaned against the wall, his hand still pressed against the strange symbol. The symbol seemed to pulse faintly under his touch, as if acknowledging his presence.

  It took him several moments to regain his bearings. When he finally looked up, he was alone in the corridor, the symbol on the wall as innocuous as it had been before. But now, Alexei knew there was something more to Blackthorn Asylum—a dark history buried beneath its walls.

  Determined to uncover the truth, he began to examine the walls more closely. Symbols like the one he had found were not uncommon, etched crudely into the stone as if left behind by prisoners or those who had been locked away for too long. Some were simple markings, crude designs that defied interpretation. Others were more elaborate, resembling ancient runes or symbols from forgotten languages.

  One particular symbol caught his eye—a circle composed of three interconnected rings, each ring rotated at a different angle. It was the same symbol he had seen in his visions, the one that had seemed to pulse with life. Alexei traced the outline with his finger, feeling a strange connection to it, as if it were a key to a mystery he was meant to solve.

  As he continued his exploration, Alexei stumbled upon a hidden alcove behind a bookshelf. Inside was a series of files, yellowed and worn from age. The top file was labeled "Project Veil," and within it were photographs and documents detailing a series of experiments conducted in the asylum. The subjects were patients like Alexei, their names redacted, their fates unknown.

  One document stood out—a log from Dr. Elara Voss, dated decades ago. "Subject 77 showed an extraordinary ability to access alternate realities. Further experimentation required."

  Alternate realities. The words sent a chill down Alexei's spine. They weren’t just playing experiments here; they were probing the boundaries of reality itself.

  The deeper he delved, the more Alexei realized that Blackthorn Asylum was no ordinary institution. It was a gateway, a place where the veil between worlds was thin, and those who sought to exploit it had left their mark.

  As the sun dipped below the horizon and darkness began to envelop the asylum, Alexei made his way back to his room. His mind was racing with questions, the answers to which were buried deep within the asylum's walls. He knew he was only just beginning to scratch the surface, but the truth was out there—somewhere.

  The next day, as Dr. Voss conducted her rounds, Alexei could not shake the sense that she knew more about the symbols and the experiments than she was letting on. Her eyes seemed to hold a knowing glint, as if she was waiting for him to make the next move.

  Though he said nothing, Alexei vowed to uncover the secrets of Blackthorn Asylum, no matter the cost. For in the shadows of the past, he sensed the faint echoes of a truth that could either save him or destroy everything he held dear.