The fire in the cavern burned weakly and low. Its flames licked at blackened wood, crackling softly, but it gave little warmth. Smoke curled upward and clung to the damp stone ceiling. Shadows stretched long and sharp across the rough walls, twisting into strange shapes that seemed to move when no one did.Oliver sat apart from the others. He leaned against the cold stone wall with his sword across his lap. His eyes stayed open, heavy but sharp, and his jaw was tight. He had not slept.The Mask of the Reaver was in his satchel, but even hidden away, its faint red glow pulsed through the leather like a heartbeat. He could feel it inside his skull, a steady thrum that would not let him rest. The whisper came again, curling like smoke in his mind. “You are strong now, but you could be more. Put me on. Let me show you how much more.”Oliver shut his eyes for a moment and clenched his fists. His voice came out rough, low, almost broken. “No.”He would not give in. Across the fire, Elias

The tunnels breathed like a living thing. Every step Oliver took sent an echo running along the stone walls, bouncing back in soft whispers that made the darkness feel alive. The air smelled damp, carrying a faint metallic taste like blood left too long in water. Drops of unseen moisture fell somewhere in the shadows, each splash sounding louder than it should.Oliver’s grip tightened on his sword. His knuckles ached from the pressure, but he did not relax. His eyes moved carefully, studying the walls and ceiling. Thin glowing threads shimmered faintly in the dark, threads only he could see. They stretched across the walls and floor like veins of fire, pulsing softly as though alive.The deeper he went, the stronger the whispers became. “They are waiting. They hunger. So do you.”Oliver clenched his jaw. He forced his breathing steady and shook his head as if the motion alone could push the voice away. But the words lingered, curling inside his mind like smoke, then he saw it, the