Everyone took off their communication devices, retreating quickly into the center building and slamming the door behind.
You nearly slip when you get inside. The baptismal font had been shattered during the attack, a broken pipe gushing water across the stone and metal floor.
The grating sound was louder in here, accompanied by a low groan that echoed across the walls, obscuring its point of origin.
The Auspex in your hand grew louder and louder until, with a loud crack, it blew itself out, the others' doing the same.
The door shudders as the fog hits it, the ancient wood crackling, ice slowly creeping in from the cracks and under the door. The pipe in the hall shrieked, the flow sputtering, the once clear water filling with rust.
You move forward, away from the door, movement on the stairs catching your eye. You stare up the decorative wood passage, shards of torn books littering the ground. You hold perfectly still, straining to see, the temperature slowly dropping. The shadows flicker at the corners of your vision, only to hold their shape when you look directly, nothing amiss.
The grating sound gets louder behind you, the crackle of ice and frost, growing louder, creeping outward, shot with veins of rust.