Chapter 17: Blood and Stone (part 1)

The glow of the ruin pulsed like a heartbeat.

Pate stepped carefully through the crumbling archway, the last of the bloodstained moss curling away from his feet. Gage followed behind, quieter than usual, his hand loosely wrapped in cloth where he'd cut himself.

"This place feels…" Pate hesitated. "Alive."

"It is," Gage said. His Irish lilt came softer now. "And it's watching us."

They entered a massive underground chamber — wide, circular, walls lined with carvings that shimmered faintly when their light touched them. Statues stood in alcoves, tall and worn down by time. Each one was different — twisted faces, open mouths, empty eyes.

"What is this place?" Pate whispered.

Gage turned in a slow circle. "A vault. Or a grave."

Something shifted beneath them. The floor vibrated. One of the walls slid open with a sound like bone dragging over stone.

Beyond it, a staircase spiraled down into blackness.

Pate moved toward it.

But Gage didn't.

He was staring at a carving on the wall — a figure drawn in looping lines, surrounded by blood. Not drawn from ink, but from something darker.

The name etched beneath it was nearly gone. But part of it remained:

"…VIOLENT RED."

"Gage," Pate said from the stairs, voice low. "You coming?"

Gage looked away from the carving. His grin was back — but there was no humor in it.

"Yeah," he said. "Let's see what the dead were trying to hide."

⸻

They descended into the dark.

Each step echoed too loud. The deeper they went, the colder the air became. And just when the silence became unbearable—

A voice whispered from the walls.

"Blood opens the gate."

Pate stopped. "Did you hear that?"

Gage didn't answer. He was holding out his hand again.

A single drop of blood floated from his skin and hovered in the air like mist.

The stone at the bottom of the stairs glowed red.

And then… it cracked open.