Behind the Red Door

### **Chapter 1: The F-Rank Anomaly**

The biting wind tore across the Yorkshire moors, carrying the scent of damp earth and the distant promise of rain. It was the kind of night that called for a warm drink by the fire, but Kael had no such comfort. He stood outside a battered white van, his breath curling in the frigid air, hands clenched tight against his sides.

He was a **Dream Walker**—or at least, he was trying to be. A single-star, the lowest rank, barely past his training. Dream Walkers were soldiers of the subconscious, entering the echoes of lingering trauma and **neutralizing** them before they could fester into something worse. His mentors spoke of it as an art: navigating a person's unresolved fears and emotions, shaping them, dissolving them. In theory, it was simple. In practice, it was **terrifying**.

Tonight was his first real mission.

The briefing room had been suffocating. Ten recruits sat in a loose semicircle, all low-star Walkers like him. Their faces were a mix of forced bravado and thinly veiled anxiety. At the front, their handler, a woman with sharp features and the tired eyes of someone who had seen too much, stood with arms crossed.

**"The trauma is classified as F-Rank,"** she stated flatly. **"A fresh manifestation, likely residual—a minor emotional imprint. The source is a farmhouse near the abandoned King's Cross Station. You're a team of ten. This should be routine."**

F-Rank. Kael had spent enough time in training to know that meant *weak*. The kind of trauma formed by simple, recent losses—a grieving widow, a boy who died too young. A ghost with no real malice.

Still, his stomach twisted.

**"Your objective is simple: neutralize the trauma, secure the area, and report back. Any questions?"**

Silence. No one wanted to be the one to voice their fear.

Liam, sitting beside Kael, nudged him with a grin. **"First job. Think we'll survive?"**

Kael exhaled shakily, pulling his scarf tighter. **"As long as you don't get in my way."**

Liam chuckled, though Kael could hear the nerves behind it.

---

### **The Mission**

The van rattled through the empty streets of London, city lights flickering past like fading memories. Kael stared out the window, the cracked buildings and empty train stations blurring together. The city felt like a reflection of him—**broken, quiet, waiting for something to change.**

They arrived at the farmhouse four hours later. It was an old, forgotten place, swallowed by weeds and shadow. The structure sagged, its wooden frame bleached gray from time. Something about it felt **wrong**.

Their handler didn't seem to notice. She stepped out of the van, adjusting the strap of her holster, and turned to face them.

**"Right, Team Echo."** Her voice was crisp. **"This is an F-Rank Escalated Trauma—the kind we handle every other day. Likely a recent passing. Maybe some old man who couldn't let go of his garden. In and out, people. No need to linger."**

Kael swallowed. His skin prickled. Something about this place felt... **heavier** than it should.

Liam whispered, **"This doesn't feel F-Rank."**

Kael hesitated before nodding. **"Yeah. Feels... thicker."**

The others were already moving. He forced himself forward. **Just nerves.**

They stepped through the rusted gate, boots crunching on frostbitten grass. The farmhouse loomed, the windows dark, the air thick with something unspoken. Kael inhaled sharply, focusing—trying to **feel**.

**Dream Walkers had a sense for trauma.** A kind of sixth sense that let them gauge the strength of what lingered. He reached inward, focusing on the path he had walked a hundred times in training—the endless corridor in his mind, lined with locked doors. At the very end stood the **red door**. His own power. His own potential.

It pulsed.

Too fast.

Too strong.

Kael froze.

*This isn't right.*

---

### **The Horror**

The inside of the farmhouse was colder than outside. Dust hung in the air like unsettled ghosts. The Walkers moved carefully, spreading out, the handler at the center.

Then—

A low, **guttural moan** rippled through the silence.

Kael's blood ran cold.

From the kitchen, **a figure stepped forward**.

Its body shifted, writhing like a mirage, its flesh peeling in places, revealing blackened veins pulsing with something *wrong*. Its face was a twisted mask of agony, its hollow sockets burning with a sickly light.

Kael barely heard the handler's voice.

**"Okay, rookies. Get into position."**

The team reacted instantly, moving with the discipline drilled into them. They spread out, surrounding the trauma source, preparing to dissolve it. Kael forced himself to move, **to ignore the way his hands trembled**.

The figure stood still for a moment, **as if confused**. It flickered, twitching, **its head jerking too fast, too sharp**.

Then, a sound.

Not from the figure.

From the **walls**.

**A growl.**

No—**many growls.**

A **chorus** of snarling, gnashing teeth.

Kael's stomach dropped. **"Shit."**

The handler turned sharply, her eyes narrowing. **"What was—"**

**The walls broke open.**

Dark, writhing figures **crawled from the shadows**, twisted and wrong, their movements jagged and unnatural. A **hive** of them. Not one trauma. **Dozens.**

This wasn't **F-Rank**.

Kael barely had time to **scream** before the world erupted into chaos.

---

### **Carnage**

The first Walker died instantly.

A creature lunged, its claws **slicing through flesh like paper**, blood spraying against the peeling wallpaper. The room exploded into movement—shouts, screams, the sickening crunch of bones snapping.

Kael turned, barely dodging as a second trauma lunged, its maw **unhinging wider than humanly possible**. Someone beside him—Liam?—was dragged into the dark. The handler's gun barked, but it barely slowed the creatures.

*We were set up.*

Kael's breath came in short gasps. *Too strong. Too fast. We—*

Something slammed into him, claws raking across his chest. **Pain** flared through his body, stealing his breath. His vision blurred, his limbs numb.

**He was going to die.**

---

### **The Music**

Then—

There was music.

Not from the world. Not from the creatures. It came from **inside him**. A melody **ancient and powerful**, vibrating through his very bones. It resonated with something deep in his soul, something behind the **red door**.

The pain lessened.

The world blurred.

Something **changed**.

And then—**Kael opened his eyes.**

He was no longer the same.