The beast lunged.
Stone exploded beneath its weight as it slammed forward like a living avalanche. Ren dove aside—barely—his shoulder crunching against the stone floor.
There was no time to breathe.
A claw slashed through the air, close enough to rattle his skull with its pressure. The monster's mouth gaped open—unhinged, dripping black blood, its tongue twitching like a dying serpent. Ren ducked again, the attack just tagging part of his shoulder.
Ren scrambled to his feet, ribs screaming with the effort. His left arm hung useless at his side, numb from shoulder to fingertips. He pivoted around the beast's next charge, using its own size against it. It skidded into the wall and howled, the sound shaking the chamber like thunder. Cracks spiderwebbed up the ceiling.
At the stairs, Eva ran until her legs threatened to give out. With every step, the thunder below grew quieter—until it didn't. Until it surged again.
Roars
Crashes
Something tearing apart the world she'd left behind.
She stumbled into the wall, bracing herself as a tremor rolled through the stone. Dust fell from above. Her heartbeat raced faster than her thoughts.
Her knees hit the ground.
"I left him," She whispered into her hands. "I left him with that thing."
But he'd told her to go. Forced her to.
So why did it feel like betrayal?
She reached the top of the steps, retracing the route they took, stumbling into the dreamlike chamber. Still just as vast, just as unreal.
The waterfall
The moon
"I just need something," She whispered. "A shard, a bone, anything sharp…"
She ran down the main path that curved along the edge of the underground basin, narrowing beneath a jagged archway entwined with thick vines just beneath the waterfall.
Beyond the arch, the air grew colder and heavier.
Eva's hand pressed to the wet stone, feeling the past beneath her fingertips—whispers of something ancient and dark.
She stepped inside.
The chamber opened wide before her, walls slick with a dark, almost black sheen.
It was blood.
Thick, dried stains streaked the stone in chaotic patterns. Crimson dripped from high ledges, pooling into the crevices of the uneven floor.
The scent hit her full force now—a pungent mix of iron and decay.
And there were carvings.
Figures—dozens of them—etched into the stone, all lining the chamber wall in solemn, unnatural devotion. Each one was depicted on their knees, bodies weak and hunched, hands raised not in prayer, but in offering. Faces erased by time, or deliberately scratched away, their arms extended toward the center of the room.
Toward her.
Above the altar, carved high into the stone, was a woman.
Her hands were outstretched, not in welcome, but in claim.
Streaks of dried blood traced downward from her etched fingers, connecting her to the kneeling figures below in winding, jagged lines—like veins.
Eva stared, frozen in place, her breath shallow and fast.
She didn't need to be told who the figure was.
And there—just beneath the outstretched hands of the carved woman—was the altar.
The stone slab was slick with dried blood, blackened and cracked in places. Old sacrificial tools had rusted to nothing nearby—knives, chains, hooks.
And in the center of the altar—
A sword
Ordinary in shape. Broad-bladed. Its edge dulled by age, but intact. The leather around the hilt had nearly unraveled, soaked and darkened from what must have been decades of use. It was covered in blood, dried thick along its fuller, like someone had tried to clean it and given up.
It looked untouched for years.
Eva stepped forward, her throat dry. The sword loomed larger the closer she got.
She reached for it with one trembling hand and tried to lift it, but it wouldn't budge.
A strangled sound escaped her throat. She grasped it with both hands, this time with her feet braced. "Come on…" Her fingers dug into the hilt.
The weight resisted, like the blade itself didn't want to leave.
With one last heave, Eva lifted the sword from the altar.
It was heavier than anything she'd ever carried.
She cradled it awkwardly in both arms, blade dragging slightly along the floor as she turned toward the entrance, blood flaking from its surface.
Clutching the blade to her chest, she ran out of the sacrificial room, back up the path, her bare feet smacking wet stone, her arms burning from the sword's weight.
Down below, Ren struggled with every breath.
Ren tried to move, but his body was failing.
Everything burned, and he was practically blind from the blood in his eyes.
The wolf lowered its head and lunged.
Ren threw himself to the side—too slow.
Its jaws snapped and caught his left arm.
Then—
The beast swung him. Ren's body lifted from the ground, ragdoll in its possession. His feet scraped across the stone wall midair as it jerked its head violently side to side.
The momentum was tearing at him, feeling the slow separation of his flesh.
And then—
Rip
His body flew, landing hard against the ground, blood gushing from his shoulder socket. The stone beneath him was slick and warm with his own blood. His chest rose in short, shallow gasps. His body refused to move—each limb its own weight, distant and useless.
Somewhere, distantly, he could hear the sound of claws dragging across stone. Heavy footsteps. Breath. The slow panting of something victorious. A tremor passed through the floor, deep and deliberate.
The beast approached him slowly.
It was savoring the kill.
He tried to roll over—to face it, to go out staring death in the eye—but his strength faltered. His hand pressed to the floor to look up, but his fingers slipped in the blood.
Then—
The beast stopped, its breath washing across his back.
It was right above him.
The wolf leaned in, enormous head hanging just above his crumpled form, its jaws parting slightly, saliva dangling in crimson strands.
This was it.
And then—
Clang
Something hit the ground hard—a metallic crash.
The wolf froze, ears perking at the sudden sound.
Eva was running towards the beast, no longer holding the sword. Instead, in her hands, she gripped not steel but stone. A jagged shard of it, knocked loose from the chamber's crumbling wall. The edge was raw, sharp enough to slice her palm.
And she was running straight at the wolf.
Straight up its tail.
The beast whipped around, too slow to register the sudden weight bounding up its back. Eva sprinted along the narrow ridge of its spine, knees buckling with each step as the monster twisted beneath her. She reached its upper back, stumbling once, barely catching herself.
Then, she leapt forward and plunged the sharp stone down into its eye.
A shriek tore through the chamber—inhuman, agonized, massive.
The beast bucked, body spasming in pain. Eva was flung from its head, crashing hard onto the ground, the wind ripped straight from her lungs.
Ren blinked blood from his eyes, gasping, his vision shaking as he finally looked up.
He saw Eva, her arm trembling as she pointed.
To the sword.
To the blade she had thrown to the ground.
It was dropped by the stairs, a good distance away from where he was.
Ren turned toward it.
The wolf was still screaming, pawing at its ruined eye, blood pouring from the socket in thick black gouts. It slammed into the wall, its massive body thrashing in pain, unaware of anything else.
He reached out, fingers scraping against the floor.
Ren pulled and dragged.
One movement at a time, he crawled.