Rise Of The Immaterial Man

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The inside of the old tower had clearly seen better days.

The air was thick with the musty smell of decay and the brick walls were crumbling and cracked. It was a wonder the thing hadn’t collapsed already. I hoped that it didn’t choose to fall apart while we were still inside.

It was a relatively small space with a main open room and a flight of stairs leading up the side of the wall to the upper levels.

“You really think we’re going to find something in here?” I asked. “It doesn’t look ancient or grand just… decrepit, really.”

“Trust me, Parker. Cultists love places like this, and there’s a good chance that one of them has put something here for safekeeping,” Sophia said.

The room was a cluttered mess. A heavy oak table sat at its centre, covered in rat poop and old documents that looked yellowed and fragile. I was sure that if one of us tried to pick them up they’d just disintegrate in our hands.

“You search down here, I’m going to go and check things out upstairs,” Sophia said