Whispers in the Dark

The tunnel stretched endlessly before them, walls slick with moisture, the air thick with the scent of earth and decay. Jonas kept a steady pace, but his grip on his sword was tight. Veyne was ahead, her movements quick and precise, a shadow among shadows. Daric followed close behind, his breathing shallow, the weight of exhaustion settling in his bones.

The words of the robed figure lingered in Jonas' mind. The Hollow knows you now. It will not forget.

The deeper they went, the stronger the sense of being watched grew. It wasn't just paranoia—something was here. Waiting. Listening.

"Jonas." Veyne's voice was quiet, but sharp. "Light ahead."

Jonas strained his eyes. At first, he saw nothing but darkness, then—faint, flickering—a glow further down the passage. It wasn't firelight. It was colder, unnatural, pulsing.

Daric tensed. "Could be more of those things."

Jonas nodded. "Or something worse."

They pressed on, slower now. The glow became clearer—a doorway, carved into the rock itself, lined with the same symbols they'd seen in the chamber above. But here, the carvings weren't inert. They moved, shifted, rearranged themselves in impossible ways.

Jonas hesitated. "We sure about this?"

Veyne smirked. "Not in the slightest."

Jonas sighed and stepped forward, pressing his palm against the stone. The moment he made contact, cold fire raced up his arm. A surge of whispers filled his mind—too many voices speaking at once, overlapping, indecipherable.

Then—

A door swung open. Not a stone slab, not a hidden passage, but a perfect, seamless void that had not existed a moment before.

Beyond it, another chamber. This one smaller, filled with low-burning blue torches. At its center—a pedestal. And atop it, a book bound in something dark and leathery, symbols carved deep into its flesh-like cover.

Jonas exhaled sharply. "That… doesn't look good."

Daric frowned. "Magic?"

Veyne's eyes darkened. "Undoubtedly."

Jonas stepped forward cautiously, but the moment his boot touched the threshold—

The door slammed shut behind them.

A low hum filled the air. The torches flickered, the symbols on the walls burning bright.

And then the book opened itself.

Pages fluttered, invisible hands tearing them open to a specific passage. The words—they were moving. Rearranging.

Jonas had seen enough cursed things to know this wasn't just an old relic. This was alive.

A voice, layered and ancient, rumbled from the stone itself:

"You seek knowledge. You seek power. You seek escape."

Daric shifted uneasily. "Not sure we were looking for any of that."

The voice ignored him. "One of you will answer. One of you will read."

Jonas clenched his fists. "And if we refuse?"

The torches flared. The air turned suffocating. The walls trembled.

"You will not leave."

Silence stretched. Then—

Veyne stepped forward. "Fine. I'll read."

Jonas turned to her. "Veyne—"

She shot him a look. "We don't have a choice."

Before Jonas could argue, she reached for the book, fingers brushing the pages.

The moment she touched it, she convulsed.

A choked gasp escaped her lips as her body locked in place, eyes wide, staring at something none of them could see. The symbols on the walls twisted, reacting to her presence.

Jonas grabbed her arm. "Veyne!"

Her lips moved, but it wasn't her voice that spoke.

It was something else.

"The Hollow stirs. The world is breaking. The gate will open again."

Daric's face went pale. "What the hell does that mean?"

Jonas didn't know. But something told him they didn't have time to find out.

With a sudden gasp, Veyne collapsed, the book slamming shut as if nothing had happened. The torches dimmed. The pressure in the air lifted.

Veyne groaned, clutching her head. Jonas knelt beside her. "You okay?"

Her breath was shaky. "I saw—" She hesitated, swallowing hard. "I saw the world ending."

Jonas felt the weight of her words settle in his chest. Whatever they had stumbled into, it wasn't just some forgotten ruin. This place mattered. And something—**something ancient—**was waking up.

He helped her to her feet. "We need to move."

Daric was already looking for another exit. Jonas turned back to the pedestal. The book was still there, unmoving, silent. But he swore he could still hear it breathing.

He turned away, unwilling to linger. "Let's get out of here."

As they stepped into the next passage, the torches behind them flickered one last time.

And the whisper returned.

"The Hollow knows you now. It will not forget."