The moon hung low in the night sky, casting a ghostly glow over the dilapidated asylum on the outskirts of Ravensbrook. The building loomed like a malevolent specter, its crumbling walls and broken windows whispering of forgotten horrors. Lena tightened her grip on the flashlight, her knuckles white. “This place gives me the creeps,” she muttered. “Stay close,” Kieran said, his voice steady but laced with tension. He carried a small satchel containing the two relics they’d already recovered. Their energy hummed faintly, a reminder of the power they carried—and the danger they were walking into. As they stepped through the rusted gate, the air grew colder, and an unnatural silence enveloped them. Even the wind seemed to avoid this place. The asylum’s main doors creaked ominously as they

