The Descent

Darkness swallowed them.

For a single, breathless moment, the chamber was dead silent—no shifting rubble, no flickering torches. Just a void.

Then—a single torch flared back to life.

The weak flame cast trembling shadows across the walls, illuminating the dust settling in the air.

Arlan exhaled sharply, his pulse hammering in his ears.

"You came to listen."

The whisper still echoed inside his skull, though it hadn't been spoken aloud.

And worse—it hadn't come from the direction of the collapsed tunnel.

It had come from deeper inside.

The Only Way is Down

Mira was the first to react. She grabbed Tomas's cloak, jerking him toward her. "This is exactly why we should've left earlier!" Her voice was low, sharp, barely holding back panic.

Tomas didn't argue. His eyes were still fixed on the collapsed path behind them—the solid wall of fallen rubble that had once been their exit.

"We didn't do that," he muttered.

"No kidding," Leila snapped, already scanning the room, her bow in hand, arrow half-drawn. "Something wanted us here."

Beren let out a slow breath, rolling his shoulders. "Yeah? Well, it can want all it likes. If it shows up, I'll split its skull."

No one responded.

They weren't alone anymore.

Arlan barely listened to the argument. His gaze was fixed on the wall of symbols surrounding the ruined door.

Some still flickered weakly.

But others—more than before—had gone dark.

It was unraveling. The seal on the prison.

And they had triggered it.

"Something's still shifting," he murmured.

Mira turned to him. "Yeah? And what does that mean, Arlan?"

Arlan hesitated. "I think… it's reacting to us."

Tomas frowned. "What, the door?"

"No," Arlan muttered. "The entire ruin."

Silence.

Leila's voice was tight. "So we're just part of some creepy prophecy now?"

Then they noticed it—a new opening beneath the broken rubble.

A stairway.

Leading deeper.

Leila cursed. "That wasn't there before."

"No," Tomas muttered. "It wasn't."

Mira ran a hand through her hair, exhaling sharply. "You know what? No. Absolutely not. We're not playing whatever horror-story prophecy this place is throwing at us. There has to be another way out."

Tomas shook his head. "There isn't."

Leila gritted her teeth. "So we go deeper? That's the plan now?"

Arlan finally tore his gaze from the flickering symbols. He wasn't sure what the right move was.

All he knew was that something was still waiting.

Watching.

Beren grinned, adjusting his axe. "We came all this way. Might as well see what's down there."

Mira shot him a furious glare. "We came here to scout the dungeon, Beren, not get recruited into an ancient death cult!"

Tomas clenched his jaw. "We don't have a choice. We go down. We move carefully, we stay sharp, and we find another way out."

Mira cursed under her breath, but she followed.

Arlan lingered for a moment longer.

Then, reluctantly, he followed too.

The Ritual Chamber

The air grew colder as they moved deeper. The stairway was narrow and winding, its walls carved with symbols that felt too fresh, too precise.

"This doesn't feel like ruins," Arlan murmured.

Leila nodded stiffly. "That's because it isn't."

The stairs opened into a vast chamber.

A ritual site.

At the center of the chamber stood a circular stone platform, etched with markings identical to the one the Vairlith ghost had traced on the dying Ogryn.

Mira took one look at it and visibly paled.

"This isn't just some old battlefield," she whispered. "This place was a temple."

Leila pulled an arrow from her quiver. "These… these are fresh." She ran a hand over the deep etchings. "Someone's been here. Recently."

Tomas knelt beside her. The carvings weren't just old history.

They were maintained.

Beren grunted, stepping further in. "So what? Some creepy guys still pray to the monster? Who cares?"

Arlan stopped moving.

A pile of burned offerings.

Scorched bones. Twisted relics.

And bodies.

A cluster of bodies.

Beren whistled. "Well. That's concerning."

Tomas moved closer, but Arlan was already staring. His stomach twisted.

They weren't just random victims.

These were adventurers.

And Arlan recognized their armor.

They were the missing scouts.

Mira swore under her breath. "That means—"

"They never had a chance," Tomas murmured.

Leila pulled her bowstring tighter. "Then what killed them?"

No one answered.

The air felt wrong.

Heavy. Like they were being watched.

Then—a soft noise.

A whisper of movement, just beyond the range of their torchlight.

Something stood in the shadows.

Watching.

It was tall, too tall, its limbs stretched thin.

A Vairlith.

For a long, stretched moment, it did nothing.

It simply watched.

Arlan felt cold sweat on his back.

He knew instinctively—it wasn't scared of them.

Mira's fingers curled around her staff. "Tomas."

"I see it," Tomas murmured.

The Vairlith didn't move.

Then—it stepped backward.

Into the shadows.

And vanished.

Final Moments

Silence.

Leila's bow was still raised. "I hate this place."

Arlan swallowed hard. "It wasn't running from us."

Mira slowly turned to him. "What?"

"It could've attacked. It didn't. It just—" His lips shuddered, voice uneasy. "It was making sure we saw this."

Beren grunted. "Yeah? And what for?"

Tomas tightened his grip on his sword. "I don't know."

Then—a distant, deep rumbling.

From below.

Mira clenched her fists. "Okay. New plan. We find a way out. Right now."

Tomas didn't move.

"…Tomas?"

Tomas exhaled. "No. We're already in too deep. We find out who's down here, and we end this before that thing wakes up."

No one argued.

Because deep down, they all knew.

It was already too late.

Something had led them here.

And now, it was waiting.