Capter 14 - The Pale Choir

Here is Chapter 14: The Pale Choir, written in the established style and following your instructions closely:

Chapter 14: The Pale Choir

The shattered church loomed over Caleb like a forgotten monument, its bones cracked by time and frost. As he crossed the broken threshold, snow crunched beneath his boots, but the sound was quickly swallowed by the oppressive silence within.

Inside, the chill was worse—unnatural. Ice clung to the inner walls, crawling like veins toward the remnants of an altar now split in two. The stained-glass window still cast its fractured colors onto the floor, though the image was long lost to the broken panes.

Caleb stepped carefully, axe in hand. The church had the feel of something untouched, undisturbed. And that, he knew by now, was never a good sign.

He was stronger now. Sharper. The foes he had faced so far were brutal but simple. Beasts of instinct. Corpses driven by hunger. He had beaten them with cleverness, preparation, and force. A small ember of pride had taken root, fed by each survival.

But as he neared the altar, that pride began to flicker.

The snow at the center of the church twitched.

Just once.

Then again.

And then it erupted.

From the ground, a mass of slick, icy tentacles burst forth, slamming into the pews and flinging shattered wood across the nave. Caleb leapt back just in time, landing hard on his side. Before he could recover, a scream cut through the air—a shrill, warped melody like a funeral hymn twisted by rage.

The creature rose from the snow. A woman's upper body—pale, blue-lipped, lifeless. Her hair was frozen in long strands, drifting like seaweed under ice. But her eyes—if they could be called that—were black pits burning with a cold hunger. Below her waist, a grotesque mass of coiling limbs rooted into the snow like a nest of vipers.

She moved fast.

Too fast.

Caleb brought his axe up just as one of the tentacles whipped toward his head. It deflected off the shaft with bone-rattling force. Another slammed into his side, sending him crashing into the wall. His vision blurred. Snow filled his mouth as he coughed, gasping for air.

He scrambled upright, blood running down his temple. The boss didn't wait. She was already upon him, the bulk of her body gliding unnaturally over the snow. The tentacles struck again, and again, each with precision. This wasn't mindless fury. It was practiced, intelligent violence.

He swung.

Missed.

Dodged.

Barely.

His axe bit into one of the limbs—thick, rubbery, and filled with frozen pulp. She shrieked, the sound making his ears ring. But there was no hesitation in her attack. She was a wraith of ice and agony, relentless.

For the first time since arriving in this world, Caleb felt something more than fear.

He felt small.

The fight dragged on. Minutes stretched. His strength faded. Every move was slower than the last. Cuts opened along his arms, his coat in tatters. He landed another blow—deep, just beneath her collarbone. She recoiled, shrieking.

But he was too slow to dodge what came next.

A tentacle lashed upward, slicing across his chest, and another swept his legs from under him. He hit the floor hard. His axe skittered across the ice.

Then silence.

He tried to move, but his body refused. Pain burned through his side. Blood pooled beneath him, hot against the cold.

The boss hovered just out of reach, her eyes locked on him.

And she began to descend.

End of the 14th chapter.