บท 5: Night Terrors
Lucas Moreau stood up from the chair, feeling the accumulated fatigue weighing heavily on his shoulders. The cult leader, now stunned by the truth serum, had revealed valuable but disturbing information. Lucas knew that the first day of interrogation had to end now.
He left the room, carefully locking the door behind him, and headed towards the upper floors of the police station. The corridors were quiet, the staff reduced to a few guards and night workers. Julien, still at his post, looked up from his papers when he saw Lucas arrive.
"Was it successful?" Julien asked, concern perceptible in his voice.
Lucas nodded. "Yes, but this is only the beginning. The leader has spoken incoherently, but some information is clear: their numbers are far greater than we imagined, and their goal is to sow chaos to open the doors to a powerful entity."
Julien sighed. "We must remain vigilant. I will continue to analyze the data and coordinate with the other teams. Go get some rest, Lucas. You need it."
Lucas nodded, feeling tiredness overwhelm him. "Thank you, Julien. Be careful. We'll start again tomorrow morning."
He left the police station, the cool of the night providing a welcome respite from the intensity of the day. The town of Saint-Lys seemed peaceful under the dim lights of the street lamps, but Lucas knew that this tranquility was only a facade. The leader's words still echoed in his mind. "We are countless."
He got into his car, the ride home passing in silence punctuated only by the purr of the engine. The images of the day passed before his eyes, mixing occult rituals, supernatural powers and the frightening faces of the worshipers of the Demon of Madness.
Arriving home, Lucas parked the car and slowly walked up the stairs of his building. He opened the door to his apartment, a place that now seemed strangely foreign to him after the disturbing events of the day. He got rid of his things, plopping down on the couch, exhausted.
He thought about the leader's words regarding the number of cult members. "Countless." This simple sentence amplified the magnitude of the threat they faced. If there were really that many, that meant they had deep and potentially hidden ramifications in every corner of the city.
Lucas wondered how he could protect Saint-Lys against such an insidious threat. He knew he would have to mobilize all his resources, knowledge and experience to fight this growing madness. But for now, he needed some rest.
He got up to make himself some tea, hoping it would help ease his thoughts. While waiting for the water to heat, he walked towards the window, looking out over the sleeping town. He knew that the days to come would be decisive. Every clue, every piece of the puzzle, would be crucial to understanding and neutralizing the cult of Azrael.
Lucas finally lay down, his thoughts turned to the challenges ahead. He closed his eyes, promising himself to continue the fight with determination and courage. Sleep eventually prevailed, but even in his dreams, the echoes of the leader's words rang out, a constant reminder of the oppressive presence of the cult and the need to stop it before it was too late.
Lucas Moreau finally fell into a restless sleep, but the tranquility he hoped for was short-lived. Almost immediately, he found himself in a dreamscape, a twisted and distorted version of Saint-Lys. The familiar streets were shrouded in a dark, thick mist, an oppressive veil that muffled sounds and distorted shapes.
He stood in the middle of a deserted street, the light from the streetlamps reduced to faint glimmers through the mist. Every step he took seemed heavy, as if the ground itself was resisting his advance. Around him, moving shadows seemed to follow him, indistinct silhouettes that vanished as soon as he tried to look directly at them.
"Lucas..." A voice whispered his name, an ethereal sound that echoed through the dense air.
He turned around, but saw no one. The cold chill he had felt in the cathedral returned, and he realized he was not alone. The mist seemed to have a life of its own, moving and twisting around him, ready to engulf him.
"Lucas..." The voice sounded again, closer this time.
He tried to run, but his feet were anchored to the ground, each movement becoming a superhuman effort. The mist began to thicken, tentacles of darkness wrapping around his legs, slowly moving up towards his torso. A visceral terror gripped him as he struggled to break free, but the mist continued to consume him inexorably.
Faces appeared in the mist, horrifying figures with empty eyes, members of the cult of Azrael whom he had arrested earlier. They murmured incantations, their voices mingling together to form a cacophony of madness. The leader's words echoed in his mind, amplified by the incessant whispers. "Madness will consume you too."
He felt the cold mist reach his chest, compressing his breath, and a blinding panic overwhelmed him. Each inhalation became a struggle, his lungs burning with icy, oppressive air. He tried to scream, but no sound came out of his throat.
"Lucas..." The voice was now inside his head, pulsing with a force that threatened to shatter his mind.
As the mist reached his face, obscuring his vision and drowning his thoughts, he saw one last image: the symbol of the circle and cross, glowing with an eerie glow, staring back at him from the depths of the mist.
Then everything went black.
Lucas woke up with a start, covered in cold sweat, his heart pounding. He was back in his apartment, the morning light filtering through the curtains. The nightmare still seemed to echo in his mind, an oppressive presence that refused to leave him.
He stood up, trying to calm his breathing. The feeling of dread persisted, but he knew he had to prepare for the day ahead. The fight against the cult of Azrael had only just begun, and he must remain strong, even in the face of his deepest fears.
Heading to the bathroom to freshen up, he promised himself not to let the madness consume him. Each step, each action he took today, would be one step closer to understanding and destroying the threat weighing on Saint-Lys.
Lucas looked at himself in the mirror, his eyes determined despite the fatigue.
Lucas Moreau splashed his face with cold water, trying to chase away the last traces of his nightmare. The reflection in the mirror showed a tired but resolute man. He headed to the kitchen to make some coffee, feeling like he would need all the energy he could get to face the day ahead.
While sipping his first cup, he took his phone and looked for Professor Bernard's contact. An expert in occultism and paranormal phenomena, Bernard was their best asset in understanding the enigmas surrounding the cult of Azrael.
After a few rings, Bernard's familiar and reassuring voice answered. "Lucas? What's going on?"
"Professor Bernard, sorry to disturb you so early, but I need to talk to you about something important," Lucas replied, his voice still marked by the anxiety of the night.
"I'm always available for you, Lucas. What happened?" Bernard asked, his voice tinged with worry.
Lucas took a deep breath before starting. "That night I had a nightmare. It wasn't just a dream, it was... different. I found myself in a distorted version of Saint-Lys, shrouded in a dark, oppressive mist. I heard voices, whispers, and saw faces...those of the cult members we arrested."
He paused, searching for the right words. "The mist slowly engulfed me, and the voices repeated that madness would consume me too. It was terrifying, and it seemed so real. Before I woke up, I saw the symbol of the circle and the cross, glowing in the mist."
Bernard was silent for a moment, then his voice rang out again, calm but serious. "Lucas, what you are describing sounds like a dream manifestation linked to occult forces. Members of the Cult of Azrael may have ways of influencing the minds of their adversaries, especially if you are directly involved in their arrest and rituals."
Lucas clenched his jaw, trying to control his anxiety. "Do you think they were able to reach my mind even from a distance?"
"It is possible that your exposure to their rituals and powers has made you vulnerable," Bernard replied. "The symbol you saw in your dream is a powerful sign. It represents their connection to the Demon of Madness. Your dream could be an attempt to weaken you psychologically or to send you a message."
Lucas nodded, even though Bernard couldn't see him. "So, what should I do? How can I protect myself from these attacks?"
"I will prepare a protective talisman for you," Bernard said. "In the meantime, try to keep your mind as strong and clear as possible. Avoid letting yourself be overcome by fear or doubt. Mental strength is your best defense against these influences. And continue to keep me informed of anything that might seem strange or abnormal."
"Thank you, Professor," Lucas replied, feeling a slight relief. "Your help is precious."
"We will get through this together, Lucas. Stay alert and take care of yourself. I will bring you the talisman as soon as possible."
Lucas hung up, placing the phone on the table. He felt a little better after talking to Bernard, but he knew the road would be long and perilous. The coffee had lost some of its heat, but he drank it anyway, mentally preparing himself to return to the station.
He knew he had to stay focused and determined, despite the dark forces that tried to destabilize him. The nightmare was just another obstacle to overcome. With the help of Bernard and his team, he was ready to face the darkness that threatened Saint-Lys.
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