The Hollow Below

Chapter Two: The Watcher's Path

The fall felt endless. Richard’s scream was swallowed by the roar of stone collapsing around them. He couldn’t see his friends—only shadows flailing, dust choking the air, and the awful sensation of weightlessness. Then—thud. The impact knocked the air from his lungs. He landed hard on something soft—moss?—then rolled, groaning. His head spun, and his ears rang like alarm bells. For a long moment, he just lay still, trying to remember how to breathe.

“Richard?” a voice croaked nearby. It was Loret. “I’m here,” he rasped. “You okay?” “Not sure. My ankle—hurts.” Richard pushed himself up slowly. He clicked on his torch, wincing at the brightness. The beam cut through a haze of dust, revealing a low rocky ceiling above and uneven stone around them. The air was thick—damp, musty, and oddly warm. Plants that glowed faintly blue carpeted the floor. “Richard!” another voice—Jake. “Jake! Davis?” “I’m here too,” Davis called out, coughing. “But I landed on my spine. I swear I’m two inches shorter.”

They pulled themselves together, checking for injuries. Loret had twisted her ankle badly, but nothing seemed broken. Their torches barely pierced the gloom around them, but one thing was clear: the tunnel they’d fallen through was gone. A gaping hole yawned above, far out of reach. Loose rock and rubble formed a steep, unstable wall—impossible to climb.“We fell through the mine,” Jake murmured, still shaken. “We must be at least fifty feet below.” “At least,” Davis added. “And there’s no ladder. Great.”

Richard stood quietly, scanning the strange chamber. The walls here weren’t rough like natural caves. They were shaped—chiseled. Some stones had markings on them, faint but visible. The same symbols they’d seen in the tunnel—curling patterns, sharp angular lines, and swirling circles that looked like eyes. “This place…” he began. “It’s not part of the mine.” Jake stepped closer to a wall, brushing off the dust. “No. It’s something else.” “I told you this tunnel was weird,” Loret muttered, wincing as he adjusted his weight. “Now we’re trapped underground in some ancient... whatever this is.”

“We’re not trapped,” Richard said, with more confidence than he felt. “There has to be another way out.” “Based on what?” Davis asked. “Hope?” “Instinct.” “Which of your instincts got us down here?” Richard did not answer. Instead, he walked ahead, following a narrow crevice that sloped downward. The walls glowed faintly where the moss grew thickest. With no way back up, forward was the only option. They walked slowly, staying close. The deeper they went, the stranger the place became.

The walls were almost... alive. The moss pulsed gently, as if breathing. Water dripped rhythmically from cracks overhead. Occasionally, they passed strange root-like structures growing from the ceiling, hanging down like the limbs of some long-forgotten tree. Then they saw it—an open passageway up ahead, framed by two massive stone pillars carved with more symbols. “Looks like a gate,” Jake whispered. “Or maybe a warning.” Richard stepped through first.

The corridor opened into another chamber—larger, more structured. There were ancient beams supporting the ceiling, still intact despite the obvious age. And on the floor, arranged in a perfect circle, were stones shaped like footprints. Not bootprints. Not shoes. Something... inhuman. Three toes. Clawed. Loret caught her breath. “What is this place?” she asked softly.

Before anyone could answer, a sharp clicking noise echoed from somewhere ahead. They froze. Another click. Closer. Then a slow, scraping shuffle. Davis whispered, “Tell me that’s not a creature.” “Could be a falling rock,” Jake said, though his voice trembled. The light from Richard’s torch landed on something just beyond the next archway. Eyes. Not glowing ones—no, worse. Reflective. Like the eyes of something that didn’t need light to see. They disappeared instantly as Richard raised the torch. “Run,” he said. They turned and fled, no one needing to ask twice.

Behind them, the clicking grew louder, faster—scratching, scuttling, like something crawling on too many limbs. Their footsteps echoed wildly. Loret limped behind, but Richard slowed to help him, slinging her arm around his neck. Up ahead, Davis spotted another path and veered left. They stumbled through it, only to find themselves in a dead-end cave. Smooth, round walls—no exits. “Backtrack!” Jake shouted. But it was too late. The creature entered.

It was tall—at least seven feet—and gaunt. Skin like cracked stone, limbs too long, and no mouth. Just a flat face, broken only by the glint of those eyes. It made no sound. It didn’t need to. It was listening. Richard held a finger to his lips, signaling silence. The boys crouched, holding their breath. The creature sniffed the air, tilting its head like a bird. Then it stepped slowly across the chamber. It moved toward noise. Toward the faint drip of water on the far wall. Richard whispered, barely audible: “It hears, not sees.” He tossed a pebble across the room. The creature whipped around instantly and leapt toward the sound. “Now!” Richard hissed.

They bolted. This time, Davis led them right, into another tunnel. The creature didn’t follow. The corridor twisted sharply and dipped again, and soon they could no longer hear the clicking. They collapsed on the ground, panting. “Well,” Davis gasped, “that’s new. Blind stone monsters. Cool.” “I think it only hunts when it hears something,” Richard said. “It didn’t see the torch. Just reacted to the noise.” “We’ll have to stay quiet,” Jake added, clutching his chest. “Real quiet.”

Loret leaned back, his face pale. “We need to find water. Food. Somewhere safe. Or we’re going to die here.” “No one’s dying,” Richard said. “We’re going to find a way out. My father knows this tunnel. Maybe... maybe he knows what’s down here too.” “Then why hasn’t he said anything?” Jake asked. Richard didn’t answer. But deep in his gut, the question echoed louder than anything else. What if his father did know? And what if he’d kept it secret… for a reason?