The spirals led them on.
The tunnels twisted downward in impossible ways, the carved grooves threading along the walls like veins. Lantern light crawled across the stone, catching in the lines, as though something beneath the rock pulsed faintly in answer.
Scar-chin walked at the front now, his blade drawn, shoulders rigid. Behind him, the younger scout clutched his lantern close, glancing over his shoulder with every step. The unconscious man on Scar-chin's back groaned weakly, a reminder of how thin their margin had become.
Kael moved silently at the rear. His golden eyes flicked from wall to ceiling, his attention too sharp, too steady. He didn't stumble on the slick stone the way the others did. He didn't hesitate at the bends. It was as though he had walked this path before.
The air grew colder. Each breath came out as mist, curling and vanishing.
The younger scout finally whispered, "We should turn back. This isn't worth it."
"No," Scar-chin snapped. His voice carried the weight of command, but even he couldn't mask the strain. "We find the others. Dead or alive."
His words echoed strangely, stretching farther than they should.
Kael slowed, tilting his head. There's a faint sound. Not the whispers from before, but something weaker. Something human.
A breath.
"Stop," Kael murmured.
Scar-chin glanced back sharply. "What?"
Kael raised a hand for silence. He closed his eyes, listening. The air carried it, faint and broken, but real. A rasp of lungs, dragging in air where none should remain.
"This way."
He moved past them before either could argue, his steps quickening as the sound grew clearer.
The tunnel bent, opening into another chamber.
And there they were.
The missing squad.
Five men and women, sitting slumped against the cavern wall in perfect stillness. Their armor was torn, their weapons shattered beside them. Their eyes were open wide, unblinking but drained of all color, clouded over like milk glass.
They looked less like corpses and more like puppets that had been left in place after the strings were cut.
The younger scout gagged, clutching his stomach. "Gods…"
Scar-chin set down the man on his back and took a step forward, jaw tight. "Check them."
Kael crouched before the nearest body. A woman, her face frozen mid-grimace. He pressed two fingers to her neck. No pulse. No warmth. Yet her body hadn't rotted. It hadn't even stiffened.
He moved to the next. A man, eyes rolled back white, lips cracked. No heartbeat. No breath.
But then--
"---ahhh---"
The sound rasped from one farther down the line. A faint wheeze, like bellows leaking air.
The younger scout jolted backward, nearly dropping his lantern. "It's alive!"
Kael was already there, kneeling beside the man. His chest rose shallowly, his skin paper-pale, veins darkened like ink beneath. The man's lips trembled, words struggling to form.
Kael leaned in. "Speak."
Scar-chin hovered behind him, tense, blade at the ready. The younger scout pressed himself to the wall, eyes wide.
The man's voice came in fragments, shredded by breath.
"…he… walked… between… moments…"
Kael's eyes sharpened. His hand gripped the man's shoulder. "Who?"
The man's gaze shifted blindly, pupils unfocused, but his lips moved again.
"…the assassin… the hunter… cut eternity… bled us dry…"
Scar-chin's breath caught. His face hardened, but Kael felt the tremor ripple through him.
The younger scout shook his head furiously. "No, no—that's a story. That's myth. He's dead. He's been dead for..."
The dying man convulsed, his back arching as a wet sound tore from his throat. His eyes, already white, seemed to glow faintly. His mouth gaped, and from it spilled not breath, not blood... but a whisper.
"…we remember you…"
The same words Kael had heard in the pit. The same voices layered and broken, spilling out of this dying man's lungs.
The younger scout screamed, fumbling with his lantern. Scar-chin cursed, dragging the boy behind him, blade raised against the husks.
Kael didn't move. His golden eyes locked on the man's face.
The whisper seeped outward, curling across the chamber, wrapping around Kael's skull.
"…lost one… returned… hunter reborn…"
The man's body sagged suddenly, lifeless. Truly lifeless this time. His head lolled, eyes dimming into ordinary white haze.
Silence followed. Heavy. Crushing.
Scar-chin lowered his blade, but his knuckles were white around the grip. "That wasn't him speaking."
"No," Kael said quietly.
The younger scout shook, his voice breaking. "It knew your name. Back in the cavern. Now it's—now it's talking through them. What the hell are you?"
Kael turned, meeting his eyes. The boy froze, breath catching.
Kael's gaze wasn't angry. It wasn't even sharp. It was worse—it was calm. Too calm. As if none of this was unexpected.
"I don't know," Kael said simply.
And for a moment, the boy believed him.
Scar-chin sheathed his blade with a sharp click, breaking the tension. "This is bait."
Kael glanced at him.
"They weren't left here by accident." Scar-chin's jaw clenched, his eyes scanning the chamber. "They were set like this. To draw us in."
The younger scout paled further. "Then—then something knows we're here."
Kael straightened slowly. His hand lingered briefly on the dead man's shoulder, as though testing the weight of the whisper still echoing. Then he let go.
The chamber seemed smaller now, the spirals on the walls bending inward, closing around them.
Kael's voice was low when he spoke. "Not something."
Both scouts turned toward him.
Kael's eyes gleamed faintly gold in the lamplight.
"Someone".