The bell's toll cut through the still air like a blade, deep and resonant. It wasn't the shrill clang of a handbell or the rhythmic peal of a church tower — no, this was slower, heavier, like the heartbeat of something ancient. Each strike rolled through the underground space with such weight that Aaron could feel it in his chest, as though it was shaking loose something buried deep inside him.
He froze for a moment, glancing toward Lyra. She had stopped mid-step too, her head slightly tilted as if she could catch some hidden message within the bell's reverberations. Her golden eyes narrowed, the faint glint of wariness flickering behind them. Without a word, she began walking again, her boots splashing through the shallow water as she led the way down the dim corridor.
Aaron followed, his mind a churn of questions. Who rang it? Was it meant for them? Or was it simply the call of some ancient mechanism, indifferent to their presence but dangerous nonetheless?
The walls here were different — no longer raw, damp stone, but slabs fitted with eerie precision. The air tasted faintly metallic, as though laced with old blood. The water's surface reflected the faint, wavering light from the ceiling, casting distorted shadows that crawled along the walls like restless ghosts.
He kept his eyes moving. Every dark corner felt alive. Every shift in the echo of their steps hinted at movement just beyond sight.
The sound of the bell faded into the distance, but the tension it left behind remained, coiled in the air.
"Keep close," Lyra murmured without looking back. Her voice was soft, but there was an edge to it that told Aaron she wasn't merely offering friendly advice.
They moved deeper. The passage widened, swallowing them into a space so large that Aaron couldn't see its limits. It was like stepping into the belly of some ancient cathedral, but here the architecture was wrong — columns too tall, carvings too strange, proportions unsettling in a way his mind couldn't quite grasp.
At the far end, lit by a pale and unnatural glow, stood an enormous door. It wasn't made of wood or metal, but something in between — smooth, but veined with faint, pulsating lines that suggested it was alive.
Aaron's steps slowed involuntarily. The sight of it made his skin prickle.
"What… is that?" he asked, though he wasn't sure he wanted an answer.
"Not a what," Lyra replied, her gaze fixed on the door. "A who."
Before he could ask what she meant, the bell tolled again — closer this time, though he saw no source. The sound didn't just echo through the space; it seemed to hum through the walls, vibrating in his bones.
Aaron felt his heartbeat syncing with it. Each strike seemed to drag him forward, step by reluctant step.
Lyra noticed. She stopped, turning sharply, and her hand shot out to grab his wrist. Her grip was cold, strong.
"Stay with me," she said. "It's meant to draw you in. Don't let it."
He nodded, though his mind still felt… fogged.
They moved again, this time with Lyra's grip guiding him. The space between them and the great door closed, each step making the air thicker, heavier. Aaron's breathing grew shallow, his chest tight.
His thoughts flashed back — not to this journey, but to the fight from before. The way his body had moved, untrained yet instinctive, as though something else had guided his strikes. He had never been a fighter. Back home, the worst conflict he'd seen was shoving matches in a school hallway. Yet against that creature, something primal had awakened in him.
And now, in this place, with this door, that same deep, animal awareness was stirring again — warning him, urging him to be ready.
Finally, they reached the base of the steps leading to the door. Up close, Aaron could see faint impressions in its surface — not carvings, but faces, their features blurred as if seen through rippling water. The lines pulsing through it seemed to feed into those faces, making them shift in expressions too fleeting to be certain.
The bell tolled again, and this time, the sound seemed to come from directly behind the door.
Lyra stood still, her eyes locked on it, her jaw set. "We've arrived."
The words were simple, but they carried a gravity that made Aaron's stomach tighten.
He glanced around the massive chamber — the strange columns, the deep shadows between them, the water rippling at his feet from some unseen movement. It wasn't safe here. It wasn't even neutral. The entire space felt like it was leaning in toward them, listening.
He swallowed hard, forcing himself to steady his breathing. He didn't know what lay beyond that door, but something told him that whatever it was… the bell was its voice.
And it had been calling them all along.