Chapter 8: The Tunnels Beneath
A deafening boom echoed through the basement as the hatch above us buckled under the weight of something massive. The whispers had twisted into guttural screeches, scraping against my mind like nails on glass.
Mark held the hatch shut, his arms trembling. "We don't have much time!"
Sophie was already at the rusted door on the far side of the room, tugging at the handle. "It's stuck!"
The wounded stranger pushed himself up, wincing. "It's not locked. You just need to pull hard."
I rushed over and grabbed the handle with her, both of us yanking with all our strength. The metal groaned in protest before finally snapping open, revealing a pitch-black tunnel beyond. A wave of cold, damp air swept over us, carrying the faint stench of decay.
A crack rang out above as the hatch splintered open.
Mark barely had time to leap away before something slammed against the opening, its long, spindly fingers clawing at the edges.
I caught a glimpse of it—a face, or something that once had been a face. Hollow, gaping eyes. A stretched mouth, jaw unhinged too wide. Skin that looked as though it had been stitched together from different people.
And then, it screamed.
The sound wasn't just noise—it invaded my skull, drilling deep into my thoughts. My vision blurred as pain exploded through my head.
Sophie shoved me through the tunnel entrance. "GO!"
I barely registered the fall, hitting the cold stone floor as Mark dived in behind me. The stranger stumbled in last, slamming the rusted door shut.
The moment the latch clicked, the screams stopped.
Silence.
Heavy, suffocating silence.
I lay there, gasping for air. The only sound was the rapid thumping of my own heartbeat.
Mark turned on his flashlight, illuminating the narrow tunnel. The walls were lined with damp stone, stretching forward into endless darkness.
"Where… the hell are we?" I breathed.
The stranger leaned against the wall, still clutching his wound. "The tunnels beneath Ravengate. The oldest part of the city."
Sophie swallowed hard. "And what was that thing up there?"
The stranger's face darkened. "Something that's been watching us for a while."
Mark exhaled sharply. "Well, good news—we lost it. That door held."
The stranger shook his head. "It didn't follow us because it didn't need to."
A chill ran down my spine. "What do you mean?"
He motioned toward the tunnel ahead. "Because we just walked into its territory."
Silence.
I turned my flashlight forward, the beam cutting through the dark. The tunnel stretched far ahead, but something felt… wrong.
Like we weren't alone.
Sophie clutched my sleeve. "Ethan… look at the ground."
I lowered my flashlight.
Footprints.
Not just ours.
Hundreds of them. Bare feet, scattered in every direction. Some fresh, others fading into the dust.
Mark stepped back. "Okay, screw this. We need to turn around."
A slow, cold breath brushed against my ear.
Not wind.
Not air.
A breath.
And then—
A hand shot out of the darkness, grabbing my wrist.
I screamed, trying to yank away, but the grip was ice-cold, fingers digging into my skin.
My flashlight flickered, and for a brief second, I saw its face—
A figure crawling out of the shadows, mouth stretched open in a silent wail, skin peeling away in shreds, revealing something hollow beneath.
And then the lights died.
Pitch black.
Sophie shrieked.
Mark shouted my name.
And then—
The hands dragged me into the darkness.
To be continued…