"So down it is." He forced a grin that he didn't quite feel. "I guess up is overrated anyway."
They turned toward the lower passage, each step echoing on the slick floor. The further they went, the more Mikhailis felt an odd energy thrumming through his skull, like static before a storm. Rhea's limp grew more pronounced, but she clenched her jaw, refusing to complain.
At last, they emerged into a cavern that was big enough to stand in comfortably. The faint glow of runes traced the walls in bizarre patterns—spirals, sigils, branching lines that almost resembled tree roots. The fragment's light brightened, illuminating jagged rocks and the glimmer of water pooling around their boots.
Another subtle quake made dust fall from above. Mikhailis braced himself, heart pounding, but the ceiling held for the moment. He could see small cracks, though, creeping like spiderwebs. No telling how much time they had left before everything came crashing down.
He let out a long breath, ready to make some sarcastic remark about how they should've just stayed in bed this morning, but a pulse of warmth from the fragment stole his attention. This thing is so persistent.
Before he could dwell on that unsettling thought, Rhea straightened, forcing herself to stand without leaning too much on him. "Let's move. I'd rather not be buried alive today."
Lira scanned the cavern walls, her fingertips gently tracing the faint etchings that crisscrossed the cracked stone. Each groove felt like it contained a story—long-forgotten events that had been buried under countless years of silence and dust. She tilted her head, dark ponytail swaying with the motion, and exhaled slowly. The air here was different from the passages above: it felt heavier, as though it carried the weight of too many secrets.
Mikhailis, supporting Rhea on his shoulder, couldn't help but notice Lira's intense focus. Even in the weak light thrown by the flickering runes, he could see her eyes narrow. "Something interesting?" he asked, shifting his stance to keep Rhea from stumbling. His voice echoed slightly in the cramped space, where every sound seemed unnaturally loud.
In response, Lira turned her face partially toward him. Though she didn't fully smile, there was a glimmer in her gaze that hinted at curiosity tinged with worry. "There's something strange about this place… These markings are older than the catacombs above," she said. Her voice was low and measured, like she was afraid the chamber might overhear.
Mikhailis took a step back, guiding Rhea closer to a portion of the wall that looked stable—just in case another quake jostled them. "Older than the death traps we already fell into? Great," he muttered, his attempt at humor laced with genuine unease. The day was only getting better, apparently.
Lira shot him a look that hovered between mild exasperation and faint amusement but continued her assessment of the runes. They twisted and coiled in ways reminiscent of vines or serpents, some etched in spirals that made no immediate sense. She brushed a speck of dust from one, revealing a symbol that might have been a stylized crest or perhaps a rudimentary representation of something monstrous. Hard to tell, but either way, it gave her an unsettled feeling.
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Behind Mikhailis, Rhea clenched her jaw in frustration. She leaned her weight against a large fragment of stone, trying to take the pressure off her injured leg. It still throbbed with each pulse of blood, but complaining wouldn't help. "We're going deeper, aren't we?" she asked, her tone clipped. It wasn't really a question; she knew the answer. They had no choice.
Mikhailis gave her a half-smile—one that was more an apology than anything else. "I'd love to say we're heading to a bright exit, but it seems fate wants us to see more of this creepy labyrinth."
Rhea's breath hissed out. "Fantastic. More cursed corridors. More weird runes." She paused for a second, letting her free hand tighten around the hilt of her sword. "I'm not sure how many times I can nearly die in one day before it starts to feel normal."
Mikhailis chuckled softly, though worry pinched at the corners of his eyes. "You say that like you haven't done worse."
"That doesn't mean I enjoy it," Rhea shot back, though her tone held an undercurrent of dry sarcasm. "But if you get me killed, I'll definitely find a way to haunt you."
"Let's try to avoid that," he replied, giving her waist a supportive squeeze to reassure her. He then looked to Lira, who was still studying the runes as if they might whisper directions. "Well, oh wise one, any ideas on which way we go?"
Lira's fingertips skimmed another carved groove. She seemed to puzzle out the pattern for a moment. "The runes… they're directing us somewhere," she said at last, stepping back and scanning the stone overhead. Several lines of script led deeper into a narrow passage that curved away from the main corridor, half blocked by jagged rocks. "Judging by the symbols, it might connect to something… bigger. Or older."
A cold breeze suddenly swept through the chamber, raising goosebumps on Mikhailis's arms. The breeze shouldn't exist this far underground, yet here it was, whipping dust into little spirals that disappeared almost as soon as they formed. He felt the Mist Fragment in his hand throb with renewed energy. The mist around it thickened, slithering along his forearm like a curious serpent. Was it reacting to the passage? Or was the passage reacting to it?
He glanced down at the Fragment, seeing faint pulses of light ripple beneath its surface. A coincidence? Not likely, he thought, lips pressing into a thin line. This place was saturated with whatever ancient power he'd unknowingly awakened.
Meanwhile, elsewhere in the collapsing labyrinth, Cerys and Vyrelda stumbled through another series of half-ruined tunnels. The sound of shifting debris accompanied them like a constant threat. Dust choked the air, making every breath raspy. They'd been forced to backtrack twice already when corridors collapsed under the weight of the catacombs' self-destruction.
"Brilliant," Vyrelda muttered, kicking a loose chunk of debris in her path. She was normally collected, but frustration bristled in her posture and the tense set of her jaw. "Just brilliant. We destroy the failsafe and now the whole place is collapsing around us. Ever consider we might've done something really stupid?"
Cerys inhaled sharply, her red ponytail swishing around her shoulders as she pivoted to avoid a falling stone. She refused to let her guilt show on her face, but she could feel it gnawing at her stomach. "No time for regrets," she said in a flat tone. "We need to find the others before we're sealed down here."
A spike of fear threatened to break her usual composure. Memories of her childhood, of a different kind of ruin, flickered in her mind. She shoved those thoughts away, not wanting to appear weak in front of Vyrelda. The quakes felt like they were intensifying, each rumble reminding her that there was no easy path out.
Vyrelda set her jaw, looking ready to argue, but she seemed to think better of it. She exhaled, brushing a hand over the runes in the wall. They glowed faintly under her fingertips, the same eerie pattern they'd been following for the last hour. "It's leading us to the Mist Conflux Chamber, if the scribbles we read are correct." She grimaced. "If Mikhailis has gone deeper, that's probably where he's headed."
"And if that fragment he found is the key to this place," Cerys added, swallowing. "We might've unleashed something unstoppable."
Vyrelda's gaze hardened, a flash of uncertainty crossing her eyes. "We can't think like that. If we do, we've lost before we even try." She raked a hand through her disheveled hair. "Though I won't pretend I'm not worried. If the city falls because of us, I… I don't know if I can live with that."
Cerys didn't reply, but her silence was an agreement. She felt the same dread—like she had personally ripped open the gates to a nightmare. With a huff, she jerked her chin toward a half-collapsed corridor that sloped downward. "We go this way. If we're wrong, we'll backtrack."
Vyrelda nodded, and they trudged onward, each step echoing in the gloom.
Above ground, far from the dust and chaos, masked figures clustered on a ridge overlooking the catacomb entrances. The largest sinkhole gaped like a hungry mouth, releasing occasional belches of dust and debris. One figure, tall and draped in layered black robes, stood at the edge, arms folded. Eldris, concealed behind a mask that gave away nothing, stared into the swirling haze below.
A faint breeze tugged at his cloak, carrying the distant thunder of collapsing stone. The tension in the air crackled like a silent storm. After a long pause, Eldris finally spoke, his voice quiet and laced with resignation, or perhaps curiosity:
<We are too late to prevent the awakening.>
Though he said nothing else, the words implied something urgent—like a plan that had gone awry, a chain of events now impossible to halt. Darkness thickened around him, making the masked figures almost vanish against the night sky. And then they turned, silently dispersing, their movements purposeful but subdued. Eldris lingered a moment longer, eyes fixed on the ruins. Perhaps, he thought, the so-called Sovereign Catalyst will still surprise us all.
Back underground, in a corridor that snaked deeper into the earth, Mikhailis led his small group forward, the Mist Fragment pulsing steadily in his grip. Each time it glowed, the mist around it thickened, almost like it was guiding them to wherever they needed to go. The air smelled of damp stone and something else—like stale breath exhaled by a slumbering beast.
Rhea coughed, her voice raw from inhaling too much dust. "This place is unbearable," she managed, trying not to let her limp slow them down too much. "If I never see another ruin in my life, it'll be too soon."
Mikhailis gave a short laugh. "You say that now, but I'm sure you'll be itching for a new adventure once you're healed." He paused, studying the faint tremors underfoot. "Besides, it's not like I planned for the ground to open up and swallow us."
Lira stayed close by his side, her eyes scanning the darkness. Though her face stayed neutral, Mikhailis sensed her concern. She was always so composed, always wearing that mask of refinement. But he'd known her long enough to pick up on the slight tension in her posture. She was worried about him—about them all.
"You're too calm," she said suddenly, her voice echoing in the tunnel. He glanced at her, surprised by the observation. Lira's tone carried a note of challenge, like she was daring him to deny it.
Raising a brow, Mikhailis forced a small grin. "Would you prefer me panicking?"
She shrugged one shoulder, elegantly as ever, though her eyes flashed. "No. But I know you. You're making jokes, but you're thinking about something."
He glanced at the fragment. The mist within it coiled tighter, drawn toward the deep sanctum ahead. This thing wants something from me.
"Yeah," he admitted. "I think this piece of fancy rock is trying to lead me somewhere."
Rhea groaned. "Fantastic. More cursed artifacts leading us deeper into certain doom."
"Come on, where's your sense of adventure?" Mikhailis smirked.
"Buried under this rubble, just like we'll be if we're not careful."
They pressed on, following the shifting glow of the runes. The corridor widened into a massive hall, lined with murals of robed figures channeling mist into a central seal. The floor bore a massive, cracked emblem, leaking mist into the air like smoke from a dying fire.
Then the air shifted.
The mist thickened, swirling, forming shapes—phantoms of the past. Shadows moved at the edges of their vision. Mikhailis clenched his jaw as the temperature dropped.
A voice whispered at the edges of his mind. You carry the fragment of my will. What will you do with it?
A flicker of vision overtook him—his own face reflected back at him, but changed. Dark mist coiled around his form, his eyes aglow with an eerie, unnatural light. He stood atop a ruined city, mist crawling at his feet like living tendrils.
Is this a warning? he thought, heartbeat hammering.
Lira's voice snapped him back. "Mikhailis!"
The mist lunged.
Rhea barely had time to react as the swirling mass solidified, striking out with shadowy tendrils. She gritted her teeth, pulling her sword, but the moment she slashed, the mist reformed, slipping through her guard.
Cerys and Vyrelda burst in from the opposite corridor, eyes widening at the chaos. "What the hell is—"
"No time!" Mikhailis shouted. "Help or get out of the way!"
Cerys didn't hesitate, rushing in to intercept another strike aimed at Lira. Vyrelda pulled a dagger, scanning for weaknesses. "Any bright ideas?"
Mikhailis tightened his grip on the fragment. Re-seal it… or use it?
The choice loomed before him, and the mist laughed in his mind.
Decide.