"We're getting out of here," Alarion said softly, tightening the straps on the crate across his back.
The forest didn't respond.
It never did.
But today, the silence felt... wrong.
The air was heavier. Not like rain not yet more like pressure. Like something above was watching, waiting for his first step.
Still, he took it.
One step forward. Then another.
Until, behind him... he heard it.
A whisper.
> "Leave her."
The voice came from behind. Twisted. Deformed. Like wind scraping through broken teeth.
Alarion froze. His breath hitched. Slowly, he turned.
Nothing.
No figure. No shadow. No beast.
But the air , it felt colder. Denser. Like the trees themselves were holding their breath.
"Leave her… Leave her and go…"
The voice again. Closer. Harsher.
Alarion's hand gripped the rope over his shoulder — the one that secured the crate. He clenched so hard the veins on his arm bulged. His knuckles turned white.
> Why does it feel like this? Like I'm being watched… pierced… judged.
His heart pounded so hard it echoed in his ears. He couldn't see anything. Couldn't smell blood, or sulfur, or danger.
Just that voice.
And yet… it was enough. Enough to paralyze every instinct he had.
> This is no demon. No animal. It's something else. Something wrong.
He forced himself to breathe, to speak.
"She stays with me," he whispered, teeth clenched.
But even as he said it… a part of him wondered if that voice would answer again.
echoed not just through the trees but inside his bones. He clenched his jaw, fists trembling.
"She stays with me," he said again, louder this time, trying to fill the air with a courage he didn't truly feel.
His eyes darted around the shadowed forest. Trees twisted upward like the spines of giants, their gnarled limbs black against a gray sky. Leaves shivered in silence. Even the wind dared not whisper.
What is this place becoming? he thought.
He turned slowly in a full circle, trying to spot any movement, any hint of a lurking presence. Nothing. Not a breath of motion. Just stillness, like the whole forest had been swallowed by something watching something ancient and cruel.
Is it possible to run? he wondered. What if I just… leave? Grab Elly and run until this cursed place is behind us?
But even the thought felt hollow. He knew. Deep down, he knew...
Something was stalking him.
Then...
A fox cry.
Sharp. Distant.
Natural.
Now.
Alarion didn't wait. He bolted.
He sprinted, feet slapping through mud and root, the crate strapped to his back bouncing with every stride. He didn't hear footsteps behind him, but something was there. He could feel it,not with his ears, not with his eyes. A new sense had awakened in him. A primal intuition. As if the forest itself had etched a sixth sense into his bones.
It's chasing me.
His legs burned. His breath came in ragged bursts. But the thing never made a sound.
It's playing with me, he thought grimly. If it wanted me dead, I'd be dead already.
Then—he saw it.
A massive outcropping of stone ahead, half-swallowed by the forest. Its face was cracked with age, vines draped like torn banners across its surface. It looked less like a rock and more like… a forgotten altar. A monument from a time no one remembered.
Without thinking, he dashed for it.
As he reached the base of the stone, he paused, hands bracing against its wet surface. He could still feel it that overwhelming pressure,but weaker now. Like the presence had stopped.
He turned around slowly, heart still hammering.
Nothing.
Just trees.
Just silence.
Then...
CRACK.
The ground beneath him shattered.
Alarion didn't even have time to scream.
He plunged downward, earth swallowing him whole.
---
The fall ended with a harsh slam. Pain exploded across his back. The crate snapped beneath him, splinters jabbing through his cloak. A sickening crunch rang out as the structure he'd spent days building crumbled into ruin.
"Elly!" he gasped, scrambling up, coughing dirt.
The cavern was pitch black, lit only by the faintest blue glow from strange fungi pulsing along the walls. He stumbled over pieces of the crate, finding Elaria's body still wrapped in cloth and leaves, her form cradled awkwardly between two rocks.
She looked… intact.
He dropped to his knees, carefully checking her. No blood. No twisted limbs.
His head dropped in relief. "Thank the stars..."
Then he looked up.
And realized..
He wasn't in a cavern.
He was in a hallway.
Stone walls stretched into the dark in both directions. The floor beneath him was marked with ancient carvings,symbols he couldn't read, but that stirred something cold in his gut. Pillars lined the path, broken and faded, as if untouched by time but burdened by memory.
This isn't a cave.
It's a dungeon.
He stood slowly, chest heaving, eyes wide as the weight of it settled.
The silence here wasn't the silence of the forest. It was something deeper. Like this place had been waiting.
Waiting… for him.
From somewhere far down the corridor—something moved.
He crouched instinctively, pulling Elaria close to a wall, cradling her with one arm while listening with the other.
I have to think. Fast.
A drip of water echoed off the walls. Then another. Then silence.
"What is this place..." he whispered.
The carvings drew his eye again. One depicted a tower engulfed in flames. Another a crowned figure with empty eyes.
Alarion swallowed.
"I shouldn't be here. None of this makes sense."
His mind raced.
This place... It's underground. Hidden. Ancient. Abandoned? No—maintained. These markings... they look too clean.
He pulled a torch from his side pouch, sparks flicking from the striker. The flame caught, casting wild shadows against the stone.
Further ahead, the corridor split in two. Left or right?
A low hum began to vibrate through the ground, just beneath his feet.
No. Not a hum. A heartbeat.
He stepped back, lifting the torch toward the ceiling.
That's when he saw it.
A massive face carved into the arch above the hallway split.
A statue.
But breathing.
"Elly..." he whispered, kneeling beside her. "Whatever this place is , we have to leave as soon as possible.