18. Elara
18
ELARA
T he walls press in around us, squeezing tighter with every step. The deeper we descend, the colder it becomes, the damp air clinging to my clothes, my skin, sinking deep into my bones. My fingers have gone stiff, and my breaths sound too loud in the stifling darkness. The only light comes from the flickering torch in Z’leni’s hand, casting wild, shifting shadows along the tunnel walls.
I don’t know how long we’ve been moving, but my legs burn and my ankle has been reduced to a dull, throbbing ache. The tunnel slopes downward, always downward, twisting and narrowing until I have to be careful not to scrape my shoulders along the rough stone. I glance back at Ryatuv. His broad frame barely fits, shoulders scraping the walls even when he turns sideways. It feels like the earth itself is swallowing us whole.
I hate this. The unknown. The dark. The silence.
Z’leni moves with certainty, his steps quick and deliberate. Ryatuv stays close behind me and though he is cool, his presence is a stark contrast to the chill pressing in from all sides. His tail brushes against my leg occasionally, a subconscious movement, maybe, or a silent reminder that he’s still there. But every time it happens, a fresh jolt of awareness shoots through me.
None of us speak. We walk in a silence that is only broken by the distant echoes of dripping water and the soft scrape of our feet against the stone. Then Ryatuv speaks.
“You never said how you know this path,” he says, his voice low and laced with suspicion.
“I know many things,” Z’leni says, not looking back.
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting,” Z’leni snaps without looking back.
Ryatuv’s tail twitches in irritation.
“Convenient,” he grumbles.
I glance between them, the air tightening until it feels like the tunnel itself might snap under the strain.
“Does it matter right now?” I ask.
Ryatuv doesn’t answer, but the way his jaw tightens makes it clear he’s not letting this go. Neither is Z’leni. But at least, for now, they seem willing to put survival over whatever pissing contest they’re gearing up for. I can only hope that lasts. Because if what Ryatuv said about this undercity is right, then bickering is going to be the least of our problems.
We round another bend, and the ground beneath us changes. The packed earth gives way to uneven stone, the rough-hewn walls shifting to something unnervingly smooth—carved rather than natural.
And then I see them.
Bones.
At first, they blend into the debris—shards of white among broken rock. Then the shapes sharpen. Skulls. Ribcages caved inward. Bones too large to be human—and others twisted and wrong, like nightmares frozen in time.
Something killed them. Leaving their corpses to rot.
My stomach knots and my fingers curl into fists at my sides as a cold sweat covers me. I force myself to keep breathing and not look too closely at the empty sockets staring at me.
“This place is cursed,” Ryatuv mutters. His voice is rough, uncertain. His wings shift restlessly against his back, his frills flaring. “We shouldn’t be here.”
Z’leni steps over a fractured femur without even flinching, his torch held steady.
“We don’t have a choice.”
“That is not an answer either.”
Z’leni exhales, turning back to face him.
“You want the truth?” He gestures to the bones around us. “This isn’t a graveyard, Ryatuv. It’s a warning.”
“From what?” I ask, swallowing hard.
Z’leni’s gaze flickers to me. In the dim torchlight, his expression is unreadable. He’s breathing heavily, tension playing over his face like a vid screen. His eyes narrow, his nostrils flare, and his tusks quiver.
“Not what. Who,” he says in a huff.
“You are saying someone did this?” Ryatuv asks, stiffening.
Z’leni’s grip tightens around the torch. He takes a step forward. Ryatuv is taller than him by a full head and a bit wider overall but Z’leni doesn’t seem to care in the slightest. He glares up at the Zmaj and growls.
“Someone, or something, yes,” he says.
Ryatuv’s tail rises over his head as his wings unfold from his back. His hands curl into fists and he too leans in and over Z’leni.
“Which is it?” Ryatuv asks. “Or are you sharing bedtime stories with us?”
“Look, lizard,” he all but spits the degrading term, “you want to go a different way, feel free. I would have left you with the Shaman but she,” he points one thick green finger at me, “wanted you saved. I suggest you not only back down, but that you gada well be thankful you’re not dead already.”
“Brave words for a half-bred, green-skinned abomination,” Ryatuv snarls, jabbing two fingers into Z’leni’s chest.
I’m frozen watching them escalate. Any moment this is going to devolve into one of them killing the other. On the generation ship where I grew up this might have been a tussle. Maybe a fight, worst case scenario one or the other would end up with a broken bone. But this is Tajss and broken bones are far from the worst possible outcome.
With a low snarl, Z’leni bats Ryatuv’s hand aside. The torch clatters to the ground, sputtering, as both of them coil to strike. He balls his hands into fists, cocking his arm and at the same time Ryatuv is doing the same.
“Wait,” I croak, stumbling between them. “Wait, we can’t?—”
I’m cut off by a sound. Faint at first. A scraping. Nails dragging over stone. The hairs on my arms rise. Somewhere behind us, something is coming. I go rigid. My heartbeat slams against my ribs. We are not alone.
The sound is distant. Echoing. But it’s definitely getting closer.
Ryatuv grabs my arm and pulls me back, positioning himself between me and the approaching sound. His wings are fully extended now, his tail lashing once before going still. Z’leni moves quickly, retrieving the torch and shoving it into my hands.
“Hold this,” he orders, and this time I don’t question.
I grip it with shaking fingers as he draws a curved blade from his belt. The metal glints in the firelight. Dark, well-worn, and sharp.
“What is it?” I whisper.
Z’leni doesn’t answer. Neither does Ryatuv. The scraping grows louder. Closer. Then a blur of motion.
Something lunges from the dark shadows of the tunnel. Too fast to see, too fast to react.
I jump back out of instinct. Claws slash through the empty air where I stood a heartbeat before.
Ryatuv roars and surges past me. His tail whips and strikes the creature’s side with a sickening crack. It reels, screeching, but doesn’t fall.
It’s shaped like a man, but twisted into something monstrous—skin like ash, limbs too long, its face a hollow pit of darkness.
And it’s fast. It recovers instantly, lunging again, this time for Z’leni.
Z’leni moves like lightning. His blade swings, flashing and slicing deep into the things shoulder. The creature screeches and stumbling.
Ryatuv doesn’t hesitate. He slams into it with his shoulder, full force, sending them both crashing into the stone wall.
“Run!” Z’leni barks at me.
I don’t move. I can’t move. The creature twists, impossibly flexible, its clawed hand snapping out?—
And it grabs me.
Agony explodes up my arm as iron-hard claws clamp onto my wrist, freezing cold and crushingly strong. I scream, pure panic ripping from my throat.
Z’leni is on it in seconds. His sword drives into its throat. A sickening gurgle escapes its mouth, black liquid spilling down its chest. It lets go of me, its fingers twitching violently before it collapses to the ground.
A horrible silence follows.
Before my eyes, the creature’s flesh caves inward, shrinking over brittle bones. Within seconds, it collapses into a pile of fine, black dust. I stare. My chest rises and falls too fast.
“What the hell was that?” my voice is hoarse and shaking.
Z’leni wipes his blade clean on his sleeve.
“One of the Forgotten.”
I swallow hard.
“Forgotten?”
Ryatuv is breathing heavily, his wings twitching. His gaze is locked on Z’leni.
“You knew,” he growls. “You knew they were here.”
Z’leni meets his glare without flinching. He shrugs, a half-grin forming on his face.
“I knew we wouldn’t be alone.”
I press a shaking hand to my chest, trying to force my lungs to slow down. Then I realize something. The tunnel ahead of us isn’t silent anymore. It’s humming. A low, eerie vibration, rippling through the air. Z’leni curses under his breath.
“We need to move. Now.”
I follow his gaze— And see it.
Just beyond the collapsed remains of the creature, the tunnel widens into a vast cavern. An ancient ruin, crumbling and sprawling beneath the earth. The undercity. Before we move, there is a deep, guttural howl that echoes through the cavern.
Cold certainty slithers down my spine. I know it without needing to see. We aren’t just intruders here—we’re prey.