The tunnel walls trembled as the underground chamber behind them collapsed, sending shockwaves of dust and shattered stone through the narrow passage. Damien ran without looking back, his grip on the blackened blade tightening with each step. The others followed close behind, their hurried footsteps echoing through the twisting corridor. The whispers that had haunted them since the Dead Isles grew louder, closer, as if something unseen was pursuing them through the darkness.
Erynn ran beside him, her breathing sharp. "Whatever we woke up—"
"I know," Damien muttered.
They had barely escaped the Dead Isles, barely resealed the abyssal door, and now they had stumbled into something just as dangerous. The ancient battlefield, the creature that had spoken to him, the vision it forced into his mind—none of it made sense. But one thing was clear.
They weren't alone down here.