Darkness swallowed Kael whole. It was not the absence of light but something deeper—something tangible. It clung to his skin, seeped into his lungs, muffling the sound of his own breath. For a moment, he thought he had stepped into nothingness itself.
Then the ground solidified beneath his boots.
A single torch sputtered to life on the far wall, casting flickering shadows that twisted like living things. The air was thick with the scent of old stone and something acrid, like burnt metal. He was in a corridor, the walls smooth yet ancient, carved with symbols that pulsed at the edges of his vision, resisting focus.
The Black Maw.
His heartbeat steadied. This was what he had come for. He took a step forward, then another, his fingers brushing the hilt of his knife. The corridor stretched ahead, narrowing slightly, the flickering torchlight failing to reach its end.
A sound broke the silence—soft, rhythmic. Breathing.
Kael froze.
His hand tightened around his knife as he turned toward the source. A figure sat slumped against the wall a few paces ahead. At first, he thought them dead—until their chest rose with a shuddering breath.
Kael hesitated, then stepped closer. The figure was a man, his clothes torn, his face gaunt. His eyes fluttered open at Kael's approach, revealing pupils that were far too dilated.
"You came through," the man whispered, his voice hoarse. "Fool."
Kael frowned. "What is this place?"
The man gave a dry, wheezing chuckle. "A test. A lie. A doorway to something that should never have been left open."
Kael glanced down the corridor. "How do I pass?"
The man's smile was all teeth. "Pass?" He coughed, wet and ragged. "You don't pass. You survive. Or you don't."
Kael narrowed his eyes. "And you?"
The man's expression flickered—something between regret and amusement. "I made a choice." His gaze drifted past Kael, unfocused. "The Maw gives. The Maw takes. And sometimes…it just watches."
A chill crawled down Kael's spine.
The man exhaled one last breath—and stilled.
Kael stepped back. He had seen death before. Too much of it. But something about this felt different. Off.
He forced himself to move. The corridor stretched onward, the darkness pressing closer. There was no turning back now. Whatever lay ahead, he would face it—alone.