The rain returned just before midnight, a thin veil falling over Hollow Creek as if the storm had never really left.  

Inside the mill, Emily, Grace, and Liam were still beneath the ground. The door they had opened earlier had sealed behind them, leaving no trace of the keycard panel, only smooth metal.  

Grace checked the camera’s remaining battery. “Ten minutes,” she said.  

“Then we make them count,” Emily said.  

The corridor ahead glowed faintly with emergency lights. Pipes ran along the ceiling, humming with energy that shouldn’t exist in a place abandoned for years.  

Liam led the way. The floor sloped downward, deeper into the foundations. The air smelled of oil and something else—salt, as if the sea itself had seeped into the walls.  

They reached a junction where three passages met. Each was marked by a faded symbol: a triangle, a circle, and a square.  

Emily traced the circle with her hand. “These weren’t on any of the maps.”  

“They weren’t supposed to be,” Liam said.  

Grace filmed the markings. “Do you hear that?”  

“Hear what?” Emily asked.  

“That clicking.”  

A faint sound echoed—like metal striking metal in rhythm.  

“It’s coming from the right tunnel,” Liam said.  

“Then we go left,” Emily said.  

They took the square path. It led them into a wide chamber filled with scaffolding and unfinished machinery. The machines were coated in dust yet still warm to the touch.  

Grace panned the camera across the room. “This isn’t construction. It’s excavation.”  

“They were digging under the town,” Emily said.  

Liam found a panel on the wall, wires leading into a sealed hatch. He pried it open and stared. “Generators. Active ones.”  

“Who turned them on?” Grace asked.  

“Not ghosts,” Liam said.  

Emily knelt beside the hatch. Beneath the wires was a plaque engraved with words she could barely read: *Redvale Primary Node.*  

She exhaled. “This was the power source.”  

“For what?” Grace said.  

“For everything above us.”  

She looked up at the ceiling. Dust fell in tiny streams. “The entire mill was built over this.”  

Before anyone could reply, the clicking returned—louder, closer.  

Grace turned her light toward the tunnel. “Someone’s coming.”  

Liam whispered, “Hide.”  

They ducked behind a collapsed beam. The sound grew into footsteps—heavy, deliberate.  

A beam of white light cut through the chamber. It scanned across the walls, catching the edge of Grace’s camera lens.  

She froze. The beam lingered, then moved on.  

Two figures entered, both in black uniforms without insignia. Their helmets reflected the emergency glow.  

One spoke into a radio. “Section B cleared. No contact.”  

The other replied, “Proceeding to Vault Gate.”  

Emily’s pulse thudded in her ears.  

Grace mouthed, *Vault.*  

Liam touched her arm, motioning to stay low.  

The soldiers passed within a few feet, boots echoing. Then the sound faded down the tunnel.  

For a long moment, none of them breathed.  

Finally Grace whispered, “Vault Gate. That’s where they’re heading.”  

“Then we follow,” Emily said.  

“Are you insane?” Liam hissed.  

“Maybe. But we came for the truth.”  

She crawled out from hiding.  

Grace turned the camera back on. “If we die, make it cinematic.”  

Liam groaned. “Not funny.”  

“Wasn’t meant to be.”  

They followed the soldiers’ path, keeping to the shadows. The corridor curved and widened until the walls changed—from concrete to smooth metal.  

At the end stood a massive circular door, etched with the same emblem they had seen on the crates.  

Grace whispered, “The Redvale seal.”  

Liam ran his hand across the surface. “This isn’t a vault. It’s a containment chamber.”  

“For what?” Emily asked.  

“Let’s find out,” he said.  

A control panel blinked beside the door. Emily approached cautiously. One light was green. The rest were red.  

Grace said, “Maybe we shouldn’t—”  

Before she could finish, the green light turned white.  

The door hissed, gears groaning, metal shifting.  

A rush of cold air burst out, carrying the scent of ozone and decay.  

Liam stepped back. “What did you do?”  

“Nothing,” Emily said. “It opened on its own.”  

From inside came a low hum, not mechanical but rhythmic, almost like a heartbeat.  

Grace raised the camera. The lens shook slightly.  

Then a voice echoed from the darkness.  

“You shouldn’t have come back.”  

Emily froze. The voice was calm, male, and terrifyingly close.  

A figure stepped into the light—a man in a dark coat, the red emblem on his sleeve catching the glow.  

“I told him you’d find it eventually,” he said.  

Emily’s throat tightened. “You were at the mill that night.”  

“And the night before that. And the one before.”  

Liam moved between them. “Who are you?”  

“An invitation you ignored.”  

He smiled without warmth. “Now you’re guests.”  

The air between them thickened. The hum behind the door grew louder, and something unseen began to shift in the darkness beyond.