Chapter 5: Redgate

  Redgate was a corpse of a place.

  Buildings with hollowed out walls slumped against one another. Their skeletal remains wrapped in the tangles of dead ivy. The concrete beneath Grim's boots crumbled with every hesitant step, as if the earth beneath rejected him. The air was thick—not with fog, but something heavier. Stagnant. Silent.

  Warehouse 12. That was where the call had led him. The voice on the phone had been low, barely above a whisper, the words distorted like a faint echo. Nothing about this felt right.

  But curiosity, that damned ember, kept him moving.

  A rusted chain-link gate towered ahead.

  The sign above long gone. leaving behind only fragments of the rusted metal. It stood ajar, creaking softly as the wind passed in. Beyond it, the remnants of the industrial yard stretched till gloom. No footsteps but his own. No sound but his own heartbeat.

  Grim's breath hung in the air. His hand extended into his pocket, fingers brushing the cold metal of his lighter. Just a comfort. The small weight reminded him that he was still here, still in control.

  They see you.

  The voice whispered. He shook the thought away.

  The warehouse loomed, barely held together by rusted beams and the cracked concrete walls. Its doors, once mighty, now sagged on weakened rusty hinges. Grim stepped inside, the echo of his footsteps swallowed by the stillness. Dark. Silent.

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  He moved forward. His eyes darted. The shadows shifted in the corners of his vision. Something watched. The hum beneath the concrete waste whispered louder now, like a distant wave. Grim's hand tightened. Every instinct screamed at him to turn back, to run—

  “Boo!”

  The voice rang out, sweet and playful, like a child’s prank.

  Grim jolted. His heart raged as he spun around, fists clenched. But there she stood.

  A woman.

  No, something.

  She leaned lazily against a rusted crate, smiling softly, but with authority trapped within. Her silver hair cascaded over her shoulders, a stark contrast to the filth-streaked cracked walls behind. Eyes like molten gold gleaming with amusement. A single delicate finger curled through the air as if tasting the tension she had conjured.

  "Miss, I think you wandered into the wrong story," Grim growled, trying to mask the tremble in his voice.

  She giggled, the sound as unsettling as it was melodic. "Oh? And here I thought I was exactly where I needed to be. Grim."

  He took a step back, instinct pushing him to put distance between them. But she didn’t follow. Just stood there, too comfortable. Too pleased.

  "Welcome to Redgate." Her smile widened, sharp and confident. "I’ve been dying to meet you."

  The air thickened. The shadows around her became darker, as if leaning closer. Yet her presence—bright yet dark and teasing—remained unnervingly untouched.

  "Who the hell are you?"

  "Asmodeus." She tilted her head, as though savoring the sound of her own name. "But you can call me Ash." Another giggle. "It suits the mood, don’t you think?"

  Grim's jaw clenched. The weight of her name pressed against him, ancient and dangerous. But she didn’t move, only watched. Like a predator curious about its prey.

  "Now then," Ash purred, her golden eyes glowing. "Shall we get started?"