The group left the chamber behind, its strange silence clinging to them like a second skin. The air in the corridor beyond was colder, thicker somehow, as though the stone itself held its breath. Each step forward echoed down the passage, swallowed quickly by the dark. The walls around them loomed higher now, close and oppressive, carved with runes that flickered with a fading light. The symbols that had once glowed so defiantly now pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat growing weaker with each breath.

  Erik walked in silence near the back of the group, every movement measured, his senses frayed. Though the hunger had retreated during the battle in the chamber, it hadn’t left him. It was quieter now, yes, but more intimate. Less of a storm and more of a shadow subtle, steady, and always there. It no longer raged against him; instead, it whispered, weaving its voice into the rhythm of his thoughts.

  Give in. It would be easier.

  He clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. He wouldn’t surrender. He couldn’t. Not with Kaelith leading them forward, her form silhouetted against the flickering torchlight, always alert. Not with Davin, silent but steady, guarding their flank. Not with Edrin’s quiet strength holding them together like invisible mortar.

  He had made them a promise. We face this together. That meant not giving in, not letting the hunger take control. Not unless he had no other choice.

  Kaelith paused at the next intersection, lifting her hand in a silent signal. Her eyes swept the corridor ahead, her daggers already in her hands. “Stay sharp,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of their footsteps. “We don’t know what else this place might throw at us.”

  Edrin moved beside her, hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He glanced at the walls, then upward, narrowing his eyes at the way the ceiling dipped. “I don’t trust this quiet. It feels… manufactured. Like something is waiting for us.”

  Davin nodded grimly. “Like the calm before the storm.”

  Erik remained silent. He didn’t trust it either. More than once he thought he saw movement in the corners of his eyes—shapes that didn’t match the light, shadows that shifted against the grain of reality. And always, that tugging feeling. Like a thread tied around his chest, pulling him forward, deeper into the dark.

  Davin finally broke the quiet, his voice uneasy. “I’ve been thinking about what that shadow said. Erik is the key. But a key to what? A prison? A weapon? Something worse?”

  Erik didn’t answer. He didn’t know. Part of him wasn’t sure he wanted to.

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  But he felt it—the deeper they went, the more the walls themselves seemed to remember him. The whispers that had once faded returned now and then, unintelligible murmurs that echoed just behind the veil of perception. As if the dungeon was alive, and it recognized him.

  They continued walking, the corridor narrowing as they descended a twisting staircase. The air thickened with every step. It grew harder to breathe, as though the space around them was being squeezed by unseen hands. And then the humming began.

  At first it was subtle a low vibration that seemed to rise from the floor beneath their boots. But soon, the very walls began to join in, pulsing with a dull resonance that rattled in their bones.

  The torchlight flickered violently. The air dropped in temperature, so suddenly that their breaths turned to mist.

  “What is that?” Kaelith asked, her voice tight with tension.

  Erik stopped walking, the pull in his chest intensifying. The hum became a voice not a voice he could hear, but one he could feel. It spoke not in words but in sensations. A drawing inward. A summoning.

  “I think… it’s calling us,” Erik said, the words spilling out before he could stop them.

  Edrin turned sharply to face him. “Calling you?” His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by that?”

  “I don’t know,” Erik admitted. “It’s the same feeling I had when I opened the door back in the chamber. Like something reaching out through me. Drawing us in.”

  Before anyone could respond, a tremor shook the ground beneath their feet.

  A crack split the floor ahead of them with a deafening roar, jagged and sudden, tearing the stone like parchment. Dust and debris rained down from the ceiling as a deep chasm yawned open, stretching across the corridor. From the black depths below came a sound a growl, low and guttural, more felt than heard. It was ancient. Hungry. Alive.

  Kaelith reacted instantly. “Move!” she barked, dragging Erik back as more of the floor crumbled.

  They staggered away from the rift as the growl rose in pitch, followed by the distinct sound of something clawing its way upward.

  Erik’s pulse thundered in his ears. The hunger inside him shivered, responding to the creature below. Whatever it was, it knew him.

  A clawed hand emerged from the darkness, skeletal and wrapped in sinew, dragging itself onto the stone. Then another. The thing was not entirely solid its body flickered in and out of existence, as if it were trapped between worlds. Shadow clung to it, tendrils reaching like smoke, writhing in the torchlight.

  “What the hell is that?” Davin shouted, drawing his blade.

  “I don’t think it’s here for a chat,” Edrin said grimly, stepping in front of the group.

  The creature’s head surfaced next no eyes, only a mouth that stretched impossibly wide, lined with jagged, shifting teeth. It hissed, the sound like metal scraping across bone, and began to pull itself up fully from the rift.

  “We don’t have time for a fight!” Kaelith snapped. “There down that side tunnel!”

  Erik turned, his breath ragged. They had seconds. He cast one last glance at the thing emerging from the depths, and it looked right at him or into him.

  The hunger surged within him, drawn toward it.

  Then Kaelith grabbed his wrist, breaking the connection. “Come on!”

  They ran.

  The path ahead was unknown, cloaked in darkness, but there was no choice. Behind them, the growl echoed louder, followed by the shriek of something no longer bound by earth or stone.

  Erik didn’t know where they were going.

  But he knew this: the path was meant for them. And it was only just beginning.