15. Chapter 15 - Matt
The mountain no longer felt still. Matt noticed it first in the walls.
The deeper they moved beneath the ruins, the more the stone seemed to pulse beneath the sweep of mounted lights.
At first he thought exhaustion was playing tricks on him, but after several minutes he realized the movement had rhythm.
The rhythm was slow, uneven, and far too deliberate to be caused by shifting stone.
Nobody commented on it. That worried him more than if they had.
The surviving Valker teams advanced carefully through another descending corridor carved into black stone.
The passage narrowed in places before opening abruptly into wider chambers filled with broken pillars and collapsed walkways.
Every surface carried the same dark mineral veins now, thick beneath the rock like diseased arteries spreading through the mountain itself.
Matt stayed near the center of the formation beside Theron. He no longer bothered pretending it was entirely tactical.
Every instinct inside him revolted at the thought of losing sight of Theron.
The bond had not settled since the corridor above.
If anything, it had grown sharper with every level they descended.
Matt remained constantly aware of Theron somewhere at the edge of his senses, not through thoughts or emotions exactly, but through certainty.
Close enough to reach if something went wrong.
And beneath that awareness lingered something worse.
The mountain had noticed it too.
Matt could feel that now with sickening clarity. The whispers followed them through every corridor, threading through the stone around them like breath moving beneath skin.
Sometimes the voices faded beneath the scrape of boots on rock. Other times they rose directly from the walls, overlapping fragments that nearly formed sentences before collapsing into static.
Open the gate. Blood remembers. Royal blood returns. The words crawled behind Matt’s eyes.
He rubbed a tired hand across his face as the group descended another spiraling stretch of uneven stairs.
One of the younger Valker agents glanced back toward him uneasily. “You hear it constantly now?”
Matt gestured toward the pulsing veins in the walls. “At this point I’m starting to feel emotionally bullied by architecture.”
That earned a brief snort from somewhere behind him.
Vale did not turn around. “Focus.”
“I am focused,” Matt muttered. “Unfortunately I’m focused on the homicidal cave talking directly into my nervous system.”
Theron released a quiet breath through his nose. Matt caught the sound. “You’re laughing again.”
“It was brief.”
“It still counts.”
The amusement vanished suddenly, but Matt still felt strangely victorious.
Ahead of them, the corridor widened into another massive chamber. This chamber felt older than the crypts above, and far less damaged.
The ceiling arched high overhead beneath enormous black columns carved directly into the stone. Unlike the ruined tombs above, the architecture here remained almost entirely intact, though black mineral growth branched across every wall.
And at the center of the chamber stood statues. Dozens of them. Matt slowed instinctively.
The figures formed two enormous rows stretching toward another sealed doorway at the far end of the room.
Ancient wolves carved from black stone stood frozen in rigid silence, each nearly twelve feet tall.
Crowns rested atop several heads while others wore armor worked directly into the stone itself.
Every statue faced inward toward the center path. They stood like witnesses, though Matt could not decide whether they were meant to observe or guard what lay beyond them.
Matt stared upward uneasily. “Okay. I officially hate this room too.”
Baptiste approached one of the statues. “Kings.”
Theron nodded once.
Matt studied the nearest figure more carefully beneath the mounted lights. Time had damaged portions of the face, but enough remained intact for him to recognize the expression carved into the stone.
“These aren’t memorials,” Matt said.
Theron’s eyes shifted briefly toward him. “No.”
Vale stepped farther into the chamber with her rifle raised. “Then what are they?”
Theron studied the statues. “Warnings.”
Nobody spoke after that. Sound behaved strangely in the chamber, every footstep lingering longer than it should.
Matt moved carefully beside one of the statues, studying the carved wolf king towering above him. Cracks spread across portions of the figure’s chest and throat, exposing traces of the strange black mineral threaded beneath the stone.
Then he noticed the claw marks. Fresh ones. Something had climbed across the statue recently.
“Theron,”
Theron crossed toward him. The instant he stepped within reach of the statue, the bond snapped tight, hard enough that Matt nearly staggered from the force of it.
Theron felt it too. Matt saw his shoulders tighten instantly. A vibration rolled through the chamber, deep enough to resonate inside Matt’s bones. Then the statues began whispering. Not metaphorically.
Matt heard it clearly now. Dozens of overlapping voices rose softly from the stone surrounding them, too distorted to fully understand but unmistakably real.
Several agents turned toward the statues with weapons raised. “What the hell is that?” one of them snapped.
Theron stepped backward from the figure beside Matt. His expression had gone dangerously still again. “The corruption has reached them.”
The glow from the mounted weapon lamps shuddered across the chamber walls as cracks spread through the stone.
Then one of the statues moved. Only a few inches. But enough.
Stone cracked sharply near the rear row. Another figure shifted on its pedestal. Matt felt the hyena surge hard beneath his ribs again.
Every instinct inside him screamed the same warning. Run.
The enormous sealed doorway at the far end of the chamber boomed beneath a violent impact from the other side. The entire room shook. Then came another, hard enough to shake the columns. Vale raised her rifle. “Move. Now.”
Nobody argued. The group broke into motion down the center path between the statues just as another loud crack split through the chamber behind them. Matt risked one glance backward.
One of the stone wolves had turned its head.
***
The group ran.
Boots slammed against ancient stone as the chamber behind them continued cracking apart in violent echoes.
Matt stayed close beside Theron while the statues lining the corridor whispered louder with every step, overlapping voices rising from the stone in distorted waves that scraped against the inside of his skull.
The path narrowed ahead.
Vale reached the sealed doorway first and swept her rifle across the carvings covering its surface. “Tell me this one opens.”
Theron stopped beside her, breathing harder now. Dust clung to the blood smeared across his clothing from the bridge fight. Behind them came another sharp crack of splitting stone.
One of the statues stepped down from its pedestal.
The sound rolled through the chamber like distant thunder.
The figure moved with a slow deliberation that felt more unnatural than speed would have. Somehow, that made it worse.
Theron pressed one hand against the center of the doorway. Silver-blue symbols pulsed faintly beneath his palm before spreading outward across the stone in widening rings of light.
Nothing happened.
Vale glanced back down the chamber. “Theron.”
“I know.”
Another impact shook the floor. Matt risked a quick glance backward.
Several statues advanced now, stone splitting around their joints.
The nearest carried a massive carved axe across its shoulders, black mineral glowing through cracks in its face.
It did not look enraged or mindless. It looked obedient, as though it had spent centuries waiting for a command that had finally come.
The whispers had stopped. That silence terrified Matt far more.
Baptiste moved beside Theron and studied the symbols across the doorway. “Blood seal.”
Theron’s jaw tightened.
“Oh, absolutely not,” Matt said.
Vale looked between them sharply. “Open the door.”
Matt stepped closer before Theron could move. “No. We are officially done with the ancient blood magic plan.”
Another statue stepped from its pedestal. The entire chamber trembled beneath the impact. One of the younger agents swore under his breath. “They’re getting faster.”
The nearest statue was thirty feet away now, its stone claws scraping across the floor. When its head tilted toward Theron, recognition struck Matt so violently that the hyena surged beneath his skin again.
Protect him.
The thought hit hard enough to hurt. Before anyone else could react, Matt grabbed Theron’s wrist and pulled his hand away from the seal. Silver-blue light flashed beneath their joined hands. The symbols across the doorway answered, brightening in a widening pulse before fading again.
Matt stared at the seal. It had not reacted to Theron alone. It had reacted to both of them.
The understanding arrived with the hyena’s certainty rather than his own. The seal did not want Theron’s blood by itself. It wanted the bond anchored to it. A fracture split down the center of the doorway, then widened as black rock sheared free and crashed onto the floor.
Silver-blue lines branched through the walls and floor as ancient mechanisms shifted behind the stone.
Behind them, the statues roared.
The sound did not resemble living voices. It sounded like stone mountains tearing themselves apart.
“Door’s opening!” one of the agents shouted.
Cracks spread rapidly across the surface of the doorway as chunks of black stone broke loose and crashed against the chamber floor.
Matt jerked his hand back instinctively. The skin across his palm looked burned now, silver-blue lines glowing faintly beneath the blood.
Theron caught his wrist. “What did you do?”
Matt stared at the glowing marks spreading faintly beneath his skin. “Great question.”