Chapter 27 #4
Thane moves first, leading us into the passage, his hand still wrapped around mine. As we cross the threshold into the darkness, he gives my fingers a slight squeeze—just once, firm and steady. The bond between us is no longer just a presence but a pull, deep and insistent, guiding us forward.
Once we cross the threshold, the air shifts—cool, thick, untouched by time. The scent of damp earth fills my lungs, rich and ancient, as if we are breathing in something that hasn’t been disturbed for centuries.
The passage is wide, much larger than I expected.
The walls and ceiling are packed earth, but they feel firm, solid, like something deliberately carved rather than naturally formed.
Thick roots coil along the walls, some reaching down from the ceiling, their dark tendrils twisting like veins through the soil.
Even our footsteps sound off—too soft, too swallowed.
Thane lifts his free hand, summoning a sphere of flickering firelight. The golden glow pushes back the shadows, illuminating the path ahead. Garrick and Jarek follow, their flames flaring to life. Five spheres in total.
Two of the orbs drift forward, floating ahead of us, casting flickering golden light against the earthen walls. The remaining three hover close, illuminating our group in a warm glow. Shadows stretch and shift with our movements, the passage ahead still disappears into darkness.
After lighting the way, Thane unsheathes his sword with a quiet rasp of steel, the blade catching the firelight. His other hand remains locked around mine, firm and steady, keeping me close.
Garrick and Rian move in sync, swords already drawn. Jarek keeps one hand free for his fire magics, his dagger resting at his hip, ready to be drawn in an instant.
Lyra’s grip is light but sure, fingers curled around the hilts of her daggers, her stance poised and deadly. Valen holds his staff with practiced ease, shoulders loose, but I know better than to mistake that for a lack of readiness.
I keep my sword in one hand, my magics thrumming beneath my skin, ready to rise at a moment’s notice.
The earth beneath our feet is firm, and the silence around us is absolute—no wind, no distant echoes. Just the soft fall of boots against the packed ground and the steady pulse of the bond, pulling me forward.
The deeper we go, the heavier the air becomes. Not from lack of oxygen, but from something else. Pressure. Like unseen tendrils wrapping around my ribs.
The passage is wide, the walls and ceiling solid earth, packed firm, untouched by time or decay. But as we go deeper, the firelight reveals something else—markings.
At first, they are faint, barely more than scratches. But as we move forward, they grow clearer, more defined—deliberate carvings etched into the walls.
Valen slows beside me, his gaze sharp, tracking the symbols as they flicker under the glow of our firelight. “These are Shadow Clan markings.” His voice is quiet but certain.
Something squeezes in my chest—sharp. Tight. The bond. Thane.
I glance up. His face is still—purposefully blank. But a bead of sweat glints at his temple—the only outward sign he’s worried. The Shadow Clan was here. And we don’t yet know what that means—especially for him.
I place my free hand on his forearm, trying to tell him—without words—that he’s okay. Not as the Spiritborn. Just as me.
He glances at me, his expression softening. He gives a tight nod.
I turn back to the markings and step closer. Reach out. My fingers graze the grooves—and I understand them. The shapes shouldn’t mean anything. But they do. This is the second time. The first was the sigil.
How many more times will I understand things I’ve never learned?
The realization makes my breath catch. I trace the first line, murmuring the words as they form in my mind. “A path forgotten . . . A past buried . . . A return inevitable.”
Silence stretches. I feel the weight of their stares—until Lyra breaks it.
“How the hell can you read that?”
I glance back, my heart still thudding. I don’t have an answer, not one that makes sense.
Before I can speak, Garrick exhales, rolling his shoulders. “Because she’s the Spiritborn. Of course.”
Jarek huffs a quiet laugh, but no one disagrees.
I shake my head, trying to make sense of it.
But why now? Why couldn’t I understand runes before?
Before I can dwell on it, Rian speaks—calm, observant. “Anyone else notice the floor?”
I blink, glancing down. The packed earth beneath us seems unchanged at first, but then I realize—we’re descending.
Slowly. Gradually.
It’s subtle, but undeniable. The path is leading us deeper.
Thane exhales, his gaze sweeping ahead. “How deep underground are we?”
No one answers. No one knows.
Then—the passage veers. Sharp left. I nearly stumble.
The walls curve sharply, the tunnel shifting direction without warning, as if guiding us toward something.
And the bond pulls even stronger.
Lyra exhales. Her gaze flicks between the twisting markings and the narrowing passage.
“This is creepy as hell,” she mutters, shivering, like she’s shaking something off. “Underground tunnels, ancient shadow markings, the floor literally leading us deeper into the abyss—yeah, I hate everything about this.”
Garrick chuckles—dry, unfazed. “Just another day in paradise.” He gestures vaguely to the dark passage ahead before clapping Rian on the shoulder. Rian rolls his eyes.
Jarek huffs. “At this point, we should just expect it.”
Thane says nothing. But his grip on my hand tightens as the path curves again.
The air thickens the deeper we go, the firelight flickering against the earth-packed walls. The weight of the passage settles over us—not in a suffocating way, but in a way that feels intentional.
Then, up ahead—the tunnel splits. A fork in the path. Two directions.
The left path is smooth, steady—carved like the tunnel behind us. The firelight stretches far enough to show that it continues downward, curving just slightly, disappearing into the unknown.
The other? Wrong.
The moment I look at it, my stomach twists. The walls on that side are jagged, uneven, like they weren’t shaped by the same hands that built this place. The carvings here are distorted, the symbols warping unnaturally as if something has tried to twist them into something else.
I don’t realize how hard I’m gripping Thane’s hand until I feel him squeeze back. We already know which way we need to go.
The bond surges, a quiet pull through my chest, steady, unwavering. It wants us to go left.
Rian exhales sharply, adjusting his grip on his sword. “And how exactly do we know which way to go?”
Thane doesn’t hesitate. “The bond is telling us.”
Rian glances at him, then at me, his expression unreadable. Then he just exhales, muttering, “Of course it is.”
Lyra gestures to the twisted path with one of her daggers. “Yeah, well, I’d rather take my chances with your creepy magics bond than go down that thing. That tunnel looks like it wants to eat us.”
Garrick smirks. “At least we can all agree on something.”
I breathe in, steadying. Fingers still locked with Thane’s.
Left.
We follow the bond’s pull.
We take the first steps down the left passage, the firelight stretching ahead, shadows shifting against the packed earth walls. The bond hums, steady, pulling us forward.
The deeper we go, the colder the air becomes. Thick, pressing, unnatural. Not the kind of chill that comes from damp stone or underground air—this is something older.
The firelight flickers against the walls, casting twisting shadows that seem to move on their own. The weight in my chest grows heavier. The bond hums—steady, insistent—guiding us forward. The bond knows where we’re going. I’m not sure I want to.
We hear something else.
A deep, distant rumble. Not footsteps. Not something scraping against the earth. Something shifting. Something waking.
Lyra stiffens beside me. “Tell me that was thunder.”
Jarek exhales, his fingers tightening around his sword. “We’re underground. That’s not thunder.”
Then comes the dragging. Slow at first, like the weight of something immense pulling itself through the tunnels. The sound is wet and heavy, layered with an unnatural grinding—stone against stone, flesh against earth.
A deep clicking noise. Reverberating through the passage.
Valen turns his head sharply, his brow furrowing. “That’s coming from behind us.”
Rian exhales, adjusting his grip on his sword. “How far back?”
The tunnel trembles. It starts as a vibration, rippling through the packed earth. Dust drifts from the ceiling. The firelight flickers violently, as if something unseen is breathing through the passage.
And then, from the darkness behind us, a sound like churning stone and splitting bone. Something massive moves. The tunnel is no longer empty.
A shape fills the dark—writhing, shifting, unfurling. Its body is vast, too large for the passage, yet it moves with horrifying ease.
The earth doesn’t collapse around it, as if the tunnels have always belonged to it. As if it was born here.
Teeth. Rows and rows of jagged, uneven teeth, shifting as the creature pulls itself forward. The firelight catches glimpses of a glistening, ridged body, its surface dark. Almost like stone, but alive.
It clicks its jaws, a low, guttural sound that rumbles through the tunnels.
Lyra steps back sharply. “No. Nope. Absolutely not.”
Garrick mutters under his breath, his sword raised, his posture rigid. “Like I said, another day in paradise.”
It shifts its gaping maw, testing the air. I don’t think it sees us. But it senses us. Vibration. Movement.
The tunnel shakes violently as the creature moves, its massive body grinding against the earth, filling the entire passageway with its size. The sound is deafening—stone splitting, earth shifting, the unnatural churning of something that has been asleep for a very long time.