The building was no different than it had been all those years ago. The walls still stained with the same stench that crept it's way into your nostrils without even being inhaled purposefully, the kind that was unfamiliar despite adjusting to the default empty scent after mere seconds of its inhalation. I suppose it, at least on first breath smelled of dampness, no doubt resulting from the rain that soaked it's way through the concrete floors leaving behind only this scent as a trifle memory of its presence.

We walked as one unit as we stepped through the tunnel, each of us stricken with our own separate memories that latched themselves onto the walls just as the smell had.

The whispers hadn't changed either. They still floated about the room like butterflies, as hushed as their soft wings and as quick as their flight.

Truly the only thing that had differed was the group. Then again maybe we hadn't,  still bearing the childish murmurs of spirits as we had all those years ago.

The basement had faded in color, no longer the searing shadow it had once been. Just like us, the walls had lost their fear and accept that they will have to face the truth someday. That their actions, and ours, would change this place.

Stepping into the circle was almost like a daydream, the kind where you know you are awake yet you feel your hearing melt together and your vision starts to play tricks on you. We know that we couldn't wake up until it was finished.

And so it began.