The roar of the stone-beast still echoed in my ears as the dust began to settle. Its massive claws had gouged deep trenches in the cavern floor, and its black-fire eyes glared down at us with something between hatred and hunger. The hooded figure who had summoned it simply stood at the edge of the pit, silent, as if the chaos unfolding was of no more consequence than a passing breeze.
We didn't wait for it to strike again.
"Move!" I shouted, my voice hoarse over the grinding noise of the creature's movements.
Arya was already in motion, darting to the left in a blur of speed. Soren flanked to the right, both blades drawn, a snarl on his lips.
And me? I ran straight at it.
The creature let out another earth-shaking roar and swung one massive claw in a wide arc. The wind of its strike alone nearly knocked me off my feet, but I rolled under it, my blade flashing upward to carve a shallow gash in the stony hide of its foreleg.
Sparks danced off the surface of its body.
No blood.
No scream.
Just a dull, grinding sound, like a boulder being split, and a slow turn of its molten eyes toward me.
For the first time, I felt real fear.
Soren struck next, his twin blades crossing in a blinding X as he lunged. He managed to shear a chunk of stone from the creature's shoulder, but it barely flinched. The beast's tail lashed out, catching him across the ribs and sending him crashing into a wall.
"Arya!" I called, backing toward her as the monster advanced.
She was already moving, skirting the edge of the chamber, her eyes darting between the creature and the hooded summoner.
"That thing's just a puppet!" she called back. "We kill the master, we cut the strings!"
Her words gave me hope—brief, fragile hope.
I glanced at the summoner, still standing on the far side of the pit, his masked face turned toward us. He raised his dagger again, and the creature's movements grew faster, more fluid.
I understood then: the creature was nothing without him.
And so I ran.
Not at the creature.
At him.
The summoner's head tilted as I crossed the cavern, his free hand making quick, intricate gestures.
The beast roared in fury, abandoning Arya and Soren to chase after me.
That was the plan.
I ducked and weaved as massive claws and boulders rained down around me, my lungs burning with every breath, the air thick with dust and the scent of burning stone.
Ten paces.
The summoner finally moved, stepping back as I closed in. His dagger flashed as he slashed at me, but I parried the blow and kicked him square in the chest.
He stumbled back.
But didn't fall.
Instead, his other hand shot out, gripping my wrist.
And then I felt it.
A cold, crushing weight on my mind—like fingers clawing into my thoughts.
I cried out, dropping to one knee as images flooded my vision. Fire. Screams. Chains. Blood.
My blood.
The summoner's masked face loomed over me, and a distorted whisper filled my head.
"Submit."
For a moment, I wanted to.
I wanted to let go.
But then another voice cut through the haze—clear, sharp, familiar.
"Lynn!"
Arya's.
And with that, something inside me snapped.
I twisted free, driving my sword upward into the summoner's ribs.
The blade sank deep, black ichor spilling out.
The summoner hissed, stumbling back at last.
And then the creature behind me howled—a sound of pure, mindless pain—as cracks began to spread across its body.
Chunks of stone fell away, dark fire sputtering and dying.
With a final shudder, it collapsed into a heap of rubble.
I stood over the summoner, breathing hard.
The red light faded from behind his mask.
And he went still.
---
The cavern was quiet now.
Too quiet.
I looked up to see Arya and Soren standing over the ruins of the beast, both of them bleeding and bruised, but alive.
Arya met my eyes and nodded faintly.
"It worked," she said simply.
Soren grunted, wiping blood from his mouth.
"Damn thing nearly crushed me," he muttered. "Next time, you take the big one, and I'll handle the scrawny freak."
I managed a weak smile.
But the relief was short-lived.
Because as the summoner's body hit the floor, a faint glow began to emanate from beneath his robes.
We stepped back as a strange, metallic sphere rolled free from his grasp. It was covered in runes, pulsing faintly with crimson light.
Arya crouched down, her dagger still ready, and peered at it.
"What is it?" I asked, my voice still ragged.
"I don't know," she admitted. "But it's magical. Strong. Dangerous."
Soren scowled.
"Well, that's just great. Let's smash it and be done with it."
Arya shook her head sharply.
"No. If the guild sent us here, they'll want to know about this. It could explain everything that's happened."
She wrapped the sphere carefully in a piece of cloth and slipped it into her pack.
"Let's get out of here," I said.
---
The way back up was harder.
We were all hurting, and the air in the tunnels felt heavier somehow—like the stones themselves were watching us.
We didn't speak much, except to warn each other of loose stones or sudden drops.
But my mind wasn't on the path.
It was on Sigma.
Even though he hadn't been there this time, I felt his presence behind everything that had happened.
The hooded summoner.
The creature.
The whispers.
All of it.
I clenched my fist around my sword hilt.
One day, I'd find him.
And I'd make him answer.
---
We emerged into daylight at last, squinting against the glare.
The air outside felt cleaner, fresher, but it didn't wash away the memory of the shadows.
Arya slumped against a rock, her chest heaving.
Soren flopped down next to her, shaking his head.
"Well," he said after a long pause, "that was a nightmare."
I didn't answer.
I was already looking back at the dark maw of Hollowdeep.
And wondering just how deep it really went.
---
That evening, as we rode back toward Ashvale, Arya finally spoke.
"You held up well down there," she said quietly.
I glanced at her.
"So did you," I replied.
She smiled faintly, though her eyes were still troubled.
"We're in this now," she said. "Whatever this is. No turning back."
I nodded.
No turning back.
---
When we reached the city gates, the watchman gave us a curious look as we passed—probably at the blood and grime still covering us.
But we didn't care.
We rode straight for the guildhall.
Elara was waiting for us.
As we stepped into her office, she regarded us coolly, her hands clasped behind her back.
"Well," she said, her voice like ice. "You survived. That alone is impressive."
Arya stepped forward and set the wrapped sphere on the table between us.
"We brought this back," she said simply.
Elara's eyes narrowed as she studied it.
Then, for the first time, she smiled.
"Good," she said softly. "Very good. You've proven yourselves."
Her smile faded just as quickly, replaced by a look of calculating coldness.
"And now… the real work begins."