The passage narrowed as Trevor and Beatrice moved deeper into the canyon. The walls were smooth, slick with an unnatural dampness that made the air feel thick, suffocating. The runes pulsed faintly, casting their path in an eerie crimson glow.
"Stay close," Trevor muttered, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
"I wasn't planning on wandering off," Beatrice replied, though her voice had lost its usual confidence.
Trevor glanced back at her. She wasn't afraid—at least not yet—but the way her gaze darted between the runes and the shadows told him she could sense it too. Something was watching them.
The path opened into a cavernous chamber. Massive stone pillars stretched toward the unseen ceiling, their surfaces etched with the same twisting symbols. At the far end of the chamber, a massive door stood embedded in the rock. It pulsed faintly, a heartbeat of dark energy.
Trevor stopped. His eyes narrowed as he studied the door.
"This is it," Beatrice said quietly.
"Stay here," Trevor replied. He stepped forward without waiting for her response.
The closer he got, the louder the energy became. It was not a sound, not something audible, but a feeling—a dark hum that vibrated through his chest and rattled in his bones. His pulse quickened, a faint sheen of sweat forming on his brow.
You know this place.
The thought came unbidden, a whisper curling at the edges of his mind. Trevor's steps faltered.
"Trevor?" Beatrice's voice broke through the haze. "What's wrong?"
He turned sharply, his expression unreadable. "Nothing. Stay back."
Trevor approached the door and laid a hand against its cold, stone surface. Instantly, his vision blurred, and a surge of pain lanced through his skull. He staggered back, gasping.
"Trevor!" Beatrice rushed forward, grabbing his arm.
"I'm fine," he snapped, though his voice was strained.
The runes on the door began to shift and pulse more violently. The air thickened, vibrating with a rhythm that felt almost alive. A deep, guttural voice echoed through the chamber—not aloud, but within their minds.
"Who dares awaken the gate?"
Trevor froze. The voice reverberated in Trevor's mind, a soundless growl that felt like claws scraping against his skull. The runes along the massive door pulsed in rhythm with the voice, their light intensifying until they painted the cavern in sickly red.
Beatrice tightened her grip on Trevor's arm. "What is that?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the oppressive energy.
Trevor's breaths came raggedly, his instincts screaming at him to move—to run—but his legs refused to obey. The voice continued, louder now, deeper, like the grinding of stone.
"A child of blood. A child of sin. You return to the gate."
Trevor's eyes widened, his fingers curling into fists. It knows me.
Beatrice stepped between him and the door, her sword drawn, its divine sigils glowing faintly. "Trevor," she said firmly, "we need to leave. Now."
The hum of energy grew deafening, rising to a fever pitch. The shadows in the corners of the cavern stirred, writhing like living things.
The first creature erupted from the wall, a formless mass of darkness that clawed its way toward them. Beatrice reacted first. Her sword flashed, its holy light slicing through the creature's body. It screeched as it disintegrated, but more followed—crawling out of the walls, pouring from the runes, their eyes glowing like embers.
Trevor's instincts took over.
He drew his sword in a single motion, its steel humming with faint energy. A creature lunged at him, and he met it head-on, his blade cleaving through its inky form. The creature dissipated like smoke, but another took its place.
"They're endless!" Beatrice shouted, her back to his as she swung her blade, her strikes precise and practiced.
Trevor cut down two more shadows, his movements cold and mechanical. "We need to close the door!"
Beatrice glanced over her shoulder. "How?"
Trevor didn't answer. He fought his way toward the massive door, slashing through shadow after shadow. With every strike, the pulsing in his chest grew stronger, matching the rhythm of the energy emanating from the runes. The whispers returned, slithering into his thoughts.
"You are one of us."
Trevor gritted his teeth, his grip tightening on his sword. "Shut up," he growled.
The shadows swarmed him, dozens at a time. One clawed at his side, another latched onto his arm. Pain seared through him, but he didn't falter. With a roar of anger, he released a surge of energy—a dark, crackling force that erupted from his body, incinerating the creatures around him.
The cavern fell silent.
Trevor stood in the center of the room, his sword trembling in his hand. Wisps of smoke curled off his shoulders, the faint remnants of the energy he had unleashed. His breathing was ragged, his vision blurred.
"Trevor…"
He turned to see Beatrice staring at him, her eyes wide—not with fear, but with something close to realization.
"What was that?" she asked quietly.
Trevor didn't answer. The runes on the door had gone dim, but the energy still pulsed faintly beneath the surface. It knew him.
"We're leaving," Trevor said finally, his voice hoarse.
Beatrice hesitated. "But—"
"Now."
His tone left no room for argument. Beatrice sheathed her sword reluctantly and followed him as he strode back toward the passage. The shadows had retreated for now, but the oppressive air remained. It clawed at their senses, a lingering promise of what lay ahead.
They didn't speak as they moved through the narrow fissure, back toward the canyon's outer path. The silence between them was heavy, broken only by the crunch of their boots on stone.
Finally, Beatrice spoke. "Trevor."
He didn't stop walking. "Not now."
"You can't keep ignoring this."
Trevor stopped abruptly, turning to face her. "Ignoring what?"
She met his glare without flinching. "That door—whatever it was—recognized you. And you used its energy like it was part of you."
Trevor's jaw tightened. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"I know enough," she shot back. "That wasn't mana. That wasn't divine energy, either. What are you hiding?"
Trevor looked away, his fists clenching at his sides. Memories clawed at the edges of his mind—memories he had buried deep, of whispered words and forbidden power, of a truth he couldn't escape.
"Nothing you need to worry about," he muttered.
"That's not good enough," Beatrice said firmly. "If we're going to stop whatever's happening in this canyon, I need to know what we're up against. I need to know what you are."
Trevor turned back to her, his gaze sharp and unyielding. "You want to know what I am?" he said coldly. "Fine. I'm a man who survived. That's all you need to know."
Beatrice stared at him for a moment, her expression unreadable. "That's not all there is to you, Trevor. Whether you admit it or not, this place—it's connected to you."
Trevor didn't respond. He turned and walked away, leaving her standing alone in the dim light of the canyon.
As they emerged into the canyon's main path, the sky had turned a dull gray, the sun hidden behind thick, swirling clouds. Trevor's unease grew. The land here felt wrong, poisoned by whatever darkness lay within the cavern.
Unseen eyes watched them from the cliffs above. A shadow shifted, its form blending seamlessly with the stone. Its glowing red eyes narrowed as it followed Trevor's movements, a silent predator tracking its prey.
"The child has returned," the voice whispered, faint and malevolent, carried on the wind.
Trevor paused mid-step, his instincts flaring. He turned sharply, scanning the cliffs, but there was nothing there.
"Trevor?" Beatrice asked.
He shook his head. "Nothing. Let's keep moving."
But as they pressed on, Trevor couldn't shake the feeling that something had followed them out of the cavern—something ancient, hungry, and very much alive.