The torches flickered weakly, their dim light barely enough to pierce the thick gloom pressing in from all sides. The air was damp, carrying the stench of rot and stagnant water. Each step echoed down the corridor, swallowed quickly by the oppressive silence.
Reed walked beside Lena, keeping his head on a swivel. The place felt wrong. Like something was watching them from just beyond the reach of the firelight.
"So, let's take a wild guess," he muttered, voice hushed. "This isn't some long-abandoned ruin, is it?"
Lena didn't look at him. "No."
Reed sighed. "Great."
If this place was still active, that meant someone put them here. And considering they weren't dead yet, that someone either wanted them to suffer first or had plans for them. Neither option sounded appealing.
Lena slowed her pace, eyes scanning the hallway ahead. "Look there," she whispered.
Reed followed her gaze.
Further down the corridor, the torchlight revealed a junction—three branching paths, each disappearing into darkness. There were no markings, no indications of which way led to an exit.
Reed frowned. "So, left, right, or straight?"
Lena hesitated. "We listen."
Reed blinked. "We what now?"
Lena ignored him, closing her eyes slightly, head tilting as if straining to hear something.
Reed, not wanting to be left out of the mystical listening session, tried the same.
For a few seconds, he heard nothing but the distant drip of water.
Then—
A faint clinking sound. Metal against stone.
Reed's eyes snapped open.
"Footsteps," Lena murmured.
His stomach twisted.
"Which way?" he asked.
Lena opened her eyes, gaze fixed on the left path. "That way."
Reed exhaled. "So we go the other way."
Lena didn't move immediately.
Reed frowned. "…Right?"
She remained silent, eyes narrowed in thought.
Reed's brain took that moment to remind him that they had no weapons. No armor. He was running on borrowed energy, and Lena had barely recovered from whatever that thing did to her.
Fighting? Not a good plan.
"Look, as much as I enjoy the idea of throwing myself into the arms of whoever locked us in a medieval murder dungeon, I'd rather take my chances somewhere else."
Lena's gaze shifted to the right path. "Then we move. Now."
Reed didn't need to be told twice.
They slipped into the right corridor just as the distant clinking grew louder.
Reed tried not to breathe too hard. His legs ached. His ribs still stung from the earlier fight. But fear was a great motivator, and not being caught was currently his top priority.
The corridor twisted and turned, sloping downward. The torches became fewer and farther between, leaving long stretches of darkness in between.
Reed's pulse quickened.
They were descending.
That was the opposite of what they needed.
Before he could comment, Lena came to an abrupt stop, holding out a hand to silence him.
Reed froze.
A faint scraping noise echoed from up ahead.
Not footsteps. Not chains.
Something else.
Something breathing.
Lena moved first, pressing herself against the damp stone wall, inching forward carefully. Reed did the same, every instinct in his body screaming at him to turn around and run.
But he didn't.
Instead, he followed Lena, creeping forward until the corridor opened up into a larger chamber.
And then he saw it.
A thing hunched over a pile of bones.
It was humanoid, but barely.
Its limbs were long and thin, its skin stretched tight over jagged bones. Its fingers were unnaturally long, tipped with blackened claws. A tattered hood hung over its face, obscuring its features except for the sharp glint of too many teeth.
Reed's stomach twisted.
Whatever it was, it wasn't human.
Lena didn't move, breath controlled, muscles tensed.
Reed swallowed, barely daring to whisper.
"What is that?"
Lena's response was just as quiet.
"A Wraith."
Reed wished he hadn't asked.