The descent into the catacombs was swift, the light above vanishing as the iron ladder clanged underfoot. Lyria felt the weight of the stone pressing in from all sides, the walls of the narrow shaft slick with condensation. She gripped the ladder tightly, focusing on the rhythmic sound of her boots hitting the rungs. Above her, Calen's heavy frame was silhouetted by the last glimmer of sunlight, while below her, the pale glow of Jax's magical light orb floated through the dark, illuminating the path ahead.
They dropped into a wide, circular chamber carved from rough stone. The air was cool and thick, with the scent of mold and rot lingering on every breath. Torches lined the walls, but none were lit. Lyria landed with a soft thud, her boots crunching on loose gravel, and scanned the chamber. It was eerily silent, save for the faint drip of water somewhere in the distance.
"Welcome to the abyss," Jax muttered, raising his hand to conjure a larger light source. The glowing orb expanded, casting flickering shadows across the rough-hewn walls. It was then that Lyria noticed the carvings—a series of intricate symbols and images etched into the stone. Strange runes, twisted in ways that hurt her eyes to look at, spiraled across the walls, coiling around skeletal figures and haunting faces frozen in agony.
"Charming," Calen said dryly as he took in the artwork. His voice echoed ominously through the chamber, the sound bouncing off the stone and fading into the tunnels beyond.
Nara knelt by one of the carvings, running her fingers gently over the ancient symbols. Her face was grim, her pale hair glowing in the soft light. "These runes... they're wards. Warnings from the ancient civilization. We're not supposed to be here."
"Great," Lyria muttered, already regretting the job. "Let's hope whatever they were warning us about is long gone."
Jax smirked, his eyes gleaming with the kind of arrogance Lyria had come to despise in mages. "Long gone? I doubt it. Magic like this doesn't fade. It lingers, waiting for the right trigger. But that's what we're here for, isn't it? To uncover what's hidden and take it."
"Or die trying," Calen added with a grim chuckle, unsheathing his massive sword. "I've seen enough cursed battlefields to know when we're walking into something we shouldn't be."
The warrior's voice held the gruff confidence of a man who'd seen enough bloodshed to know when to trust his instincts. Lyria glanced at him, appreciating his blunt pragmatism. Calen wasn't one to cower before danger, but neither was he foolish enough to charge headlong into it.
"Let's move," Lyria said, stepping forward and taking the lead. The quicker they got this done, the quicker she could claim her gold and be far away from these cursed tunnels.
The group followed her into the tunnel leading out of the chamber, their footsteps muffled on the soft, dust-covered stone. The passage was narrow, forcing them to walk single file. Jax's light orb bobbed ahead, casting long shadows behind them that danced on the walls like restless spirits.
As they ventured deeper, the carvings grew more elaborate. The figures on the walls became twisted, their faces contorted with fear or anguish, and the runes began to pulse faintly in the dim light. Lyria could feel a subtle vibration underfoot, as though the very stone beneath them was alive, thrumming with some long-forgotten magic.
"These carvings," Jax murmured, his voice barely audible. "They depict a story. The fall of the kingdom that built this place. Look—here, they were at the height of their power, bending shadows to their will." He pointed to a series of figures towering over a city, dark tendrils swirling from their outstretched hands. "But then… something happened." His hand trailed lower, to another set of figures, these ones engulfed by darkness, their bodies dissolving into shadow. "They lost control of their creations."
Lyria frowned. "You mean the creatures that guard this place?"
Jax nodded, his expression thoughtful. "They weren't just protectors. They were a weapon—a living shadow, crafted from the magic of the ancient rulers. But it seems their ambition outstripped their wisdom."
"And now they're dead," Lyria said flatly, "and we're in their tomb."
Nara paused, her hand pressed against the stone. "They're not dead. Not in the way we understand it. Their magic lingers. The shadows that walk these halls are their legacy, corrupted and twisted by time."
A sudden chill crept over Lyria, the weight of Nara's words settling uneasily in her chest. The idea that these shadow creatures were not just malevolent spirits, but the remnants of an ancient power gone horribly wrong, made the catacombs feel even more dangerous than before.
"I don't care what they are," Calen grunted, his grip tightening on his sword. "If they try to stop us, they'll meet steel."
But as they ventured deeper, it became clear that steel might not be enough.
The tunnel opened into a vast hall, its high, vaulted ceiling lost in shadow. Massive stone pillars, worn and crumbling with age, lined the length of the room. The air here was colder, and the oppressive darkness seemed thicker, as if the shadows themselves were alive. Lyria's skin prickled, her instincts screaming at her that they were not alone.
"Keep moving," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. She scanned the room, searching for any sign of movement, any flicker of unnatural shadow. Her dagger was already in her hand, its cold metal a small comfort.
Then, a whisper.
It was faint, barely audible, like the rustle of dry leaves in the wind. Lyria froze, her heart pounding in her chest. The whisper grew louder, echoing off the stone walls, a low, sinister sound that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. It wasn't the sound of something human.
Calen's grip tightened on his sword. "You hear that?"
Before anyone could answer, the shadows along the far wall rippled. They shifted unnaturally, detaching themselves from the stone and coalescing into a dark, swirling mass. The whispering grew louder, more insistent, as the shadow took shape.
A figure emerged—tall, slender, and cloaked in darkness. Its body was indistinct, as though it were made entirely of shadow, but its eyes... its eyes burned with a cold, unnatural light.
Nara gasped, her voice trembling. "That's not a creature. That's a shade."
Jax's face drained of color, his bravado melting away. "A shade?" he whispered. "A spirit made of pure shadow… impossible."
"Doesn't look impossible to me," Lyria growled, her muscles tensing as the shade began to glide toward them, its movements fluid and unnerving.
Without hesitation, Calen charged, his sword raised high. "Get behind me!"
But as he swung, the blade passed through the shade as if it were nothing more than smoke. The creature twisted, avoiding his blow effortlessly, and retaliated. Its dark form lashed out like a whip, striking Calen's chest and sending him staggering back.
Lyria's breath caught in her throat as she realized what they were truly up against.
The shadows had come alive.
And there was no turning back now.