Chapter 37

The stairs spiraled downward into black.

Cold seeped from the stone, brushing Edgar’s skin like cold fingers. Each step echoed — a lonely sound, swallowed quickly by the heavy silence below.

Magnet Man moved ahead, his metal-threaded hands glowing faintly, illuminating the walls. Strange carvings lined the stone — jagged symbols, half-worn by time.

Professor ran his gloved fingers over them, frowning.

“Old warding runes. Someone tried to keep… something… inside.”

Edgar’s grip tightened on his blade.

Not the most comforting thought.

Behind them, the faint pounding on the cathedral doors had stopped.

But that was worse somehow.

Because it meant the Black Fangs were no longer trying to break in.

They were circling. Waiting. Planning.

They reached the bottom.

A massive stone door loomed before them, cracked slightly ajar. Cold air seeped from the gap, carrying the scent of damp earth and something sharper — old blood.