Unexpected Descent

We moved deeper into the ruin, our footsteps echoing faintly off broken stone and ancient walls. The air was thick with the scent of damp moss, ash, and something else—something faintly metallic, like rusted blood or the remnants of an old ritual.

Torchlight flickered across cracked pillars and fallen tapestries, their once-vibrant threads now dull and faded. Every detail gnawed at the back of my mind like a memory trying to resurface.

Then Valtor halted, one hand lifting as he knelt beside the charred pile of wood and ash tucked into the hollow of a collapsed wall.

He touched the pile, his fingers brushing lightly over soot-stained bark.

"Hold on," He said, his voice low but sharp with realization. "This is still warm." He looked up, his expression darkening. "Someone was here. Recently. This temple wasn't just a ruin to them—it was a camp."

My stomach turned while the others froze.

Elara stepped forward, her ice bow already drawn, a jagged arrow of frost notched and ready. Her gaze was sharp, scanning every corner.

Herold's knife was already in hand, the blade shining dull silver in the dim light.

"Don't like this," he grumbled, moving slightly as his gaze swept over the devastated corridor. "Someone's camping in a ruin full of forbidden summoning circles? No one sane does that."

Seraph's characteristic smirk was gone. The humor that clung to him like a second skin was absent, replaced by something chillier. His eyes started to glow softly—electric gold running through his irises, beating like stormlight held back.

"I'm getting tingles," he murmured. "That's either a good thing or a very bad one."

I didn't say anything. My heart was already beating faster than I wanted to admit.

Though I didn't know—was never certain—if I could completely master the power within me, instinct compelled me forward. I grasped the staff on my hip, drawing it free of its hilt in a smooth motion. My hand was sure and familiar. The stance that followed was automatic for me—legs wide, knees slightly bent, arms loose but attentive. It had been hammered into me time and time again in the Priesthood, burned out of repetition and survival. When knowledge wasn't enough, you learned to defend it.

I didn't know what was coming. But I knew how to stand against it.

Then came the sound.

A whisper of movement—subtle, ghostlike. A shuffle of footsteps echoed from deep within the temple, too soft to belong to beasts, too intentional to be the wind.

Valtor shot to his feet, his sword unsheathed with a whisper of steel that cut through the tension like a blade to silk. "Fall back," he ordered, his voice taut and commanding.

We hardly made a step. It hardly registered in my head what had occurred! It started as a tiny cracking—ice under excessive weight—before escalating into a resounding shattering.

I saw down in time to observe the floor glowing with strange runes, lines of magic spider-webbing across the stone.

It was too late.

The earth below us groaned. The stone split with an ear-shattering crash, and before we were able to escape, the earth engulfed us!

"What the—!"

“Hey—!”

"Shit—!"

"Aric!"

“Elara?!”

The world ripped itself apart!

One instant, we were just standing, and the next, the floor opened up before us like some ancient beast's maw, hungry and vast!

A scream ripped from my throat but was drowned in the wind that howled past our ears, mad and wild. Dust and wreckage swirled around us, shining like ash in the torchlight.

Valtor's torch spun above, a dying star flung into the abyss, its light flickering against walls that blurred past in streaks. I flailed, heart hammering in my chest, every instinct screaming for something solid—anything—to grasp!

"Valtor!" I shouted, twisting midair, reaching toward him. My voice cracked with desperation. "Use your wind magic—slow us down!"

But he didn't respond.

His eyes were wide, shock and fury battling for dominance in their stormy depths. His jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it might shatter. He threw out his hand, fingers splayed with practiced force, summoning—

But nothing came out!

"I—Damn it," he said through clenched teeth. "It's not responding—!"

No wind rose to catch us. No invisible current surged upward to slow our descent. Not even a whisper of power.

And then I felt it.

The shift.

The air around us grew colder—not from altitude, but from something unnatural. A tug curled around my chest, my spine, my magic. It wasn't gravity pulling us—it was something else. Something deliberate. Something watching.

We weren't falling.

We were being taken.

Dragged.

Torn from the world above by a force older than the stone that had crumbled beneath us. Something wanted us down there, in the dark.

And it didn't care if we survived the landing.

Then the last thing I knew was the impact didn't come with a thud. It came with a splash!

Cold, crushing water closed over my head before I could even scream.

For a terrifying second, I didn't know which way was up. The current pulled at me—not strong, but relentless, tugging like fingers around my ankles. My staff slipped from my grasp and vanished into the dark. I flailed, limbs heavy and sluggish from the shock. Bubbles surged past my face as I kicked toward what I prayed was the surface.

Then—air!

I broke through with a gasp, coughing, choking, dragging in sweet, frigid breath. The cold stunned me. For a moment, all I could do was sputter and thrash. My arms flailed through the darkness until they found the edge of something slick and moss-covered—a jagged rock ledge jutting from the cavern wall. I clung to it like a lifeline, vision spinning, heart hammering against my ribs.

The darkness was suffocating.

No stars. No moonlight. No sky at all.

Only the faintest glimmer of light pulsed from veins of stone embedded in the cave walls. They were glowstones, old and worn, their light no more than a dying ember's breath. They cast a sickly hue over the water's surface, just enough for me to see the ripples left by my fall.

"Valtor?" I called out, my voice hoarse. "Elara? Seraph?! Herold!"

Nothing.

Only the echo of my own voice, swallowed by the damp stone.

The slow trickle of dripping water. The soft lap of currents. And beneath it all... something else.

A sound too quiet to name. A hush. A breath that wasn't mine.

Or maybe—just maybe—a hiss.

I clenched my jaw, dragging myself fully onto the ledge. My limbs trembled from the cold, soaked to the bone, every muscle aching. My boots squelched wetly against the stone as I pulled myself up, coughing hard, trying to still my shivering hands.

We'd been separated. That much was certain.

And I had no idea how far I'd fallen.

I forced my eyes open wider, letting them adjust to the dim cave glow. The stone beneath me was slick with moisture and old moss, but it was carved—not natural. I could make out faded etchings beneath my fingers, ancient inscriptions swallowed by time.

The architecture was... pristine. Not ruined like the temple above. This place is intact and preserved. Hidden beneath the wreckage, untouched by sun or storm.

And it feels like it's been waiting for something or someone.

And somehow... it felt aware.

I pushed myself to sit upright, glancing around. No sign of my staff. It must've been dragged down with the current. My magic hummed under my skin like a restrained pulse, but I didn't call on it. Not yet. Not without knowing what I'd find if I lit up the dark.

"Valtor," I tried again, softer. "Please... Elara? Anyone?"

Still nothing. Just the steady drip-drip-drip of water and the low murmur of an unseen current winding through the abyss.

And then—again—that sound.

Soft and sinister. What was that? I wondered.

It started low, almost imperceptible, like silk being drawn across ancient stone. A hiss so delicate it could've been the wind... but it wasn't.

It lingered.

It listened.

A cold shiver traced my spine, settling at the base of my neck like a breath that wasn't mine. My hand moved instinctively toward my side, fingers curling around the hilt of my blade, even though I knew—deep down—that steel might not matter here.

I wasn't alone.

Whether that was a comfort or a warning, I couldn't yet tell. But the air felt... aware. Like the darkness was watching me, tasting the air I exhaled, waiting.

I swallowed hard and forced myself to stand, my legs trembling beneath me. Dust and debris clung to my clothes, and a shallow ache pulsed behind my ribs from the fall. The faint light of the fallen torch flickered somewhere in the distance like a dying heartbeat, but I didn't move toward it. I didn't dare look away from the darkness beyond.

Because something moved!

Just beyond the edge of sight—long, slow, and patient.

I squared my shoulders. I didn't know where I was. I didn't know what force had pulled us beneath the temple or why it had chosen this place to bury its secrets.

But someone—or something—had gone to great lengths to keep this place hidden.

Which could only mean one thing: There was something down here worth fearing.

And I was going to find it.

Even if I had to face it alone.

Even if it had fangs.

Even if the darkness had a name.