The claws came again. One long, deliberate scrape, metal-on-stone in its rhythm, though Oliver knew no metal could make that sound in this place. It weighed enough to make the narrow ledge tremble beneath his boots.Lira didn’t turn. Her pale eyes fixed ahead, steps quick and sure despite the slick rock underfoot. “Keep your mind forward,” she murmured. “It already knows you’ve heard it. Don’t give it more.”Oliver’s throat tightened. The coin in his palm seemed heavier now, as if it had been waiting for that sound, waiting for them to arrive. He curled his fingers tighter around it, half-afraid it might slip away on its own. Water roared beside them, the underground river still surging at their right. The ledge was barely wide enough for a single person. The cold spray clung to Oliver’s face, beading in his hair. Every so often, the current hurled a sheet of icy droplets high enough to catch them both in the chest. “Where are we going?” he asked, keeping his voice low.“Down,” she

The chamber narrowed into a passage no taller than Oliver’s shoulders. Roots wove through the ceiling, dripping with faint luminescence that pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat. His lungs still burned from the sprint across the Nexus. The memory of that faceless Seeker, its slit mouth, and its silence clung to him with every step.Lira didn’t look back. She moved as though she had walked these tunnels all her life, never hesitating at a fork, never pausing at the shifting roots. Her pale coat brushed the walls, leaving faint streaks of damp. Oliver tightened his grip on the coin. Its warmth had dulled, but it was still there, heavy as ever.They had walked in silence for long minutes before he finally asked, “Where are we going?”Her reply was flat. “Somewhere the Seeker won’t walk easily.”“That’s not an answer.”“Good.”The tunnel dipped sharply downward. When they reached the bottom, Oliver realized they were no longer in living tunnels. The roots peeled away, leaving carved sto

The march back felt longer than the trek in. Oliver carried the unconscious scout across his shoulders, every step grinding into his bones. Mara walked ahead, torch in one hand, knives strapped and ready. The spearman limped with the boy’s support, his face pale but determined.The tunnels pressed close around them, roots still twitching faintly in the stone. Every scrape of boot on rock echoed far too loudly, like a signal in the silence.Oliver’s mind replayed the Mycotitan’s shriek over and over. The smell of rot clung to his clothes, buried in his skin.But worse than the smell was the scrape burned into the cavern wall. He hadn’t told Mara about it. Or the others. The Seeker’s mark didn’t belong in words.When they reached the rebel camp, the guards at the entrance froze at the sight of them. One ran ahead shouting, “Survivors! Garrick!”The cavern stirred awake. Faces peered from the firelight, some with hope, more with suspicion. The boy dropped the sack of fungus with a thud,

The fires burned low. Smoke hung in the cavern like a second ceiling, acrid and heavy. The taste of ash clung to Oliver’s tongue with every breath. The Deepfang camp looked less like a refuge and more like a battlefield, broken barricades, charred supplies, and blood splattered on stone.Bodies lay wrapped in cloth near the center fire. Five rebels who hadn’t lived through the night.Oliver sat apart, his back against the wall, staring at the cloth bundles. He had seen death before, on the surface, in the Traveler’s trials, even in his own hands when monsters fell beneath his beams. But this was different. These weren’t nameless creatures or distant soldiers. These were people who had shared food with him yesterday, who had glared at him, spat at him, but had still stood against the Seeker when the shadows came.His fingers dug into the coin. Cold now, not burning, but heavier than it had ever felt.Mara approached, knives sheathed, her hands stained with dried black ichor. She crou

The tunnels grew wrong. The air thickened, no longer just damp but heavy, like breathing through wet cloth. The walls wept with black condensation, streaking down in rivulets that pulsed faintly, glowing in rhythm with a heartbeat that wasn’t his.Oliver’s Echo Sense throbbed in his skull, pulling him forward. Every step dragged at him, not just with weight but with certainty. He knew where the last anchor was. He also knew something else. They weren’t walking toward it. They were walking into it. The Seeker was waiting.The boy stumbled behind them, torch shaking in his hand. His eyes were wide, white with terror. “It’s here. I can feel it.”Mara grabbed him by the collar, forcing him forward. “So can we all. Keep moving.”The two veterans said nothing, but their knuckles were white around their weapons.Oliver’s throat was dry. He wanted to say something, comfort, reassurance, anything, but the words wouldn’t come. The System’s cold hum filled his ears instead.System Notification