Before

Kohath reached for the stone. The veins were young, the stone looked ancient but felt as if it were young. The air throbbed with a power that made him hungry, that filled his insides with longing and put desire on his tongue. He wanted more. 

He had been driven to it because he had heard whisperings from the patients. Sometimes they spoke gibberish, but if you listened closely to it, it seemed that most of them were saying the same thing. It seemed to be about a power in this building.

Kohath drew back from the stone. The room was dark, unbeknownst to him, there was a camera in a corner, its sharp eye observing him carefully. The room smelled of things and people long ago that were much smarter than him. The rock under his feet seemed ancient as well. Imbued with power. He reached for the stone.

He had been driven to it because he had taken the time to decipher what the patients were saying, and because once he did, he had felt the power. It had called to him. It had filled him with longing and desire, and it seemed to single him out. He had never felt like he was particularly seen, but this power saw him. It wanted others to see him. If only he could find it.

Now that he was here, he was terrified. This stone was far more ancient than him, far more powerful. What if something bad happened. He did not know. He was frightened. His fingers were shaking. His teeth were trembling, his jaw would not stop shivering. He drew back his fingers and crossed his arms over his chest. Trying to make up his mind. The longing was there. He was drawn to it like he had not been drawn to anything but one other in his life.

He had been driven to it because forces within the hospital were conspiring to bring him to it. Otherwise, he could not have found it. It was nearly impossible. The secret door. The elevator that seemed to be waiting for him, that took him to the corridor as soon as he entered. The lights showing the way as he approached. The thick steel reinforced door, that needed three levels of security slid open with a yawn as he neared. The rock stood in the middle of the room. It was as if the room had been made for the gleaming black thing with purple lines that felt like throbbing veins. It had.

He touched it before he could stop himself. A jolt went through it. He felt as if he were screaming. He was not. He was inside himself, he could see the power coursing through his veins. He was afraid of it. It was going around in his veins. It reached his hands. They shook, making strange symbols in the air. It was in his legs. They danced around, an ancient dance that no one remembered. It looked ludicrous. It was in his groin. He relieved himself, dark splotches forming between his legs. He saw it racing to his head.