The Descent

Ethan screamed.

The hand around his wrist was ice-cold, its grip like steel. His body jerked backward on instinct, but the pull was stronger—an unnatural force dragging him toward the gaping darkness inside the box.

The ground beneath him tilted, as if reality itself was warping. The forest spun, the trees bending inward, their whispering voices rising into a frenzy.

His fingers clawed at the dirt, but it was no longer solid.

It was like sinking into a nightmare.

And then—

The world dropped away.

Ethan was falling.

Falling into nothingness.

Cold air rushed past his skin. His stomach lurched as he plummeted through the void, the world above shrinking into a pinprick of dim light before vanishing completely.

Then—impact.

The breath was knocked from his lungs as he hit the ground. Hard.

Pain shot through his ribs, his limbs sprawled out against what felt like stone.

A low, distant humming filled the air. It wasn't mechanical. It was alive.

Ethan gasped, rolling onto his side. His heart pounded against his ribs as he pushed himself up, his palms pressed to the cold, uneven surface beneath him.

His eyes adjusted to the darkness.

He was in a cavern.

The ceiling stretched impossibly high above him, jagged rock formations spiraling like twisted fingers. Strange roots snaked along the walls, their veins pulsing faintly with a dim, bluish glow.

The air was damp. Heavy.

And then—the whispers came.

Not from the walls.

Not from the ceiling.

From the ground.

Ethan's head snapped downward. His pulse slammed against his throat as he realized—

The stone beneath him wasn't stone at all.

It was carved.

Intricate symbols. Circles. Lines. Words in a language he didn't recognize, etched deep into the surface, glowing with that same eerie light.

And in the very center—

The symbol from his hand.

Ethan staggered back. His breath came fast, sharp. His hands still trembled from the fall, but something deeper—something primal—told him not to move any further.

Something was beneath this place.

And it was awake.

A noise echoed through the cavern. A low creak.

Ethan turned sharply—his stomach dropping.

A door.

Not a normal door. Not made of wood or metal.

This one was built into the rock itself. Ancient. Massive. Towering at least ten feet high, covered in the same symbols that lined the cavern floor.

It looked sealed.

But Ethan knew better.

The whispering voices grew louder.

Something was on the other side.

Waiting.

Ethan's breath came in shallow gasps. His mind screamed at him to run. To find a way out.

But then he saw it—

A second note.

Pinned to the center of the door.

His legs felt like lead as he moved forward, the weight of unseen eyes pressing down on him. Every step echoed through the cavern, the whispers hushing as if holding their breath.

His fingers trembled as he reached out, ripping the note free.

The paper was crumbling at the edges. The ink was smeared.

But the words were clear.

"YOU HAVE BEEN HERE BEFORE. YOU OPENED THIS DOOR. YOU LET IT OUT."

Ethan's blood ran cold.

The moment he finished reading, a sharp crack split through the air.

The cavern trembled. Dust rained from above. The humming sound intensified.

And then—

The door began to open.