Chapter 6 - Whispers from the Labyrinth
Sarah descended the stone steps into the sub-basement, her boots crunching on dry, rotting debris. The space opened up into a sprawling, subterranean chamber carved directly out of the damp earth, reinforced with concrete pillars and a dense web of interlocking metal pipes. In the center of the room sat an old, stained mattress surrounded by dozens of empty food wrappers, half-melted candles, and crude children's drawings taped haphazardly to the cold stone walls. Sarah’s breath hitched as she approached the drawings; they depicted a happy family of four, but the figure of the father was violently scratched out with black crayon, and red scribbles covered the windows. One drawing, dated just yesterday, bore a shaky, childish signature: “Daddy visited me last night.” A cold sweat broke out across Sarah's neck. She shined her light into the corner and found a small, vintage wooden jewelry box—the exact one her mother had given her, which had gone missing from her bedroom dresser a week ago.
Suddenly, a faint, rhythmic tapping sound began to echo from inside the concrete pillar directly behind her, spelling out a frantic, repeating code in Morse taps.
