The encounter in the hidden chamber, the chilling voice of the "Sleeping God," had irrevocably changed them all.
But the most profound transformation was in Noah. The quiet observer, always on the periphery, was now at the center of a terrifying metamorphosis.
He became a shell of his former self.
His once-gentle eyes were now distant and unfocused, as if he were looking at something far beyond their sight. He moved with a strange, unsettling grace, his movements almost robotic, lacking their usual fluidity.
He spent his days in a daze, seemingly oblivious to his surroundings, his head cocked as if he were listening to whispers only he could hear.
When he did speak, his words were cryptic and unsettling, fragments of sentences that hinted at a dark knowledge.
"The awakening is near," he'd murmur, his voice hollow and devoid of emotion. Or, "The Sleeping God hungers," he'd whisper, a chilling smile playing on his lips.
Sometimes, he'd simply stare at them, his eyes piercing their souls, and say, "You cannot stop what is coming."
His behavior grew increasingly bizarre. He started sleepwalking, wandering through the town at night, his arms outstretched as if he were being guided by an unseen force.
He talked to himself in the unknown language, his voice a low, guttural chant that sent shivers down their spines. And he began drawing the strange symbols they had seen in the asylum, not just on paper, but on any surface he could find – walls, desks, even his own skin.
The symbols seemed to pulse with a dark energy, their presence radiating an aura of unease.
His friends watched these changes with growing horror. They were hesitant to confront him, afraid of what they might find, afraid of what the entity had done to him.
Maya, her fear battling with a desperate hope that this was just a phase, tried to talk to him. "Noah, what's happening to you?" she asked, her voice trembling. He simply stared at her, his eyes empty, a chilling smile spreading across his face. "The time is coming, Maya," he whispered, his voice no longer his own.
Liam, ever the documentarian, tried to record Noah's strange utterances, hoping to decipher the meaning behind the unknown language.
But his attempts were consistently thwarted. The recordings were always distorted, filled with static and interference, as if the entity itself was preventing them from capturing any evidence.
One recording, however, was chillingly clear. It was Noah's voice, distorted and demonic, chanting in the unknown language, followed by a chilling whisper: "Join us."
Chloe, her research leading her down a rabbit hole of ancient rituals and forbidden knowledge, began to suspect the terrifying truth: Noah was being possessed by the entity. He was becoming a vessel, a conduit for its power.
The entity was using him, twisting his mind, turning him against them. She found references to similar possessions in ancient texts, warnings of what could happen when a human soul was invaded by such a powerful force. She knew they had to do something, but she was terrified of what that something might be.
They were losing Noah, and they were running out of time. The entity was growing stronger, and its influence was spreading, threatening to consume them all.