The air was damp and close. Every breath tasted of dust and rot. It clung to my tongue like old rainwater.
Lena's footsteps echoed just ahead of me, quick and certain. Mine scraped slower, my hand sliding along the cold brick to keep my balance. The tunnel was narrow enough that my shoulders brushed the walls, and the ceiling hung low enough to make me duck in places.
"Where does this go?" I whispered, my voice barely carrying.
"Somewhere safer," she said without turning.
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting."
I was about to press her when something shifted in the dark—behind us.
A slow, deliberate scuff.
I froze mid-step. "Lena."
"What?"
"Did you hear that?"
She stopped. The silence stretched, pressing against my ears. Then—another scuff, closer this time.
Her voice dropped to a low hiss. "Keep walking. Don't look back."
"I'm not leaving something crawling up my spine—"
"Daniel, move." Her tone left no room for argument.
I swallowed, pulse hammering in my throat, and followed her. Every muscle screamed at me to glance over my shoulder.
The sound came again—no longer one scuff, but two, three, a shuffle like wet fabric dragging across stone.
"What is it?" I whispered.
"Not a 'what' you want to meet."
We kept moving, our steps quickening with each echo behind us. The darkness pressed in tighter. My eyes strained for any shape, any hint of movement, but the black swallowed everything whole.
The tunnel narrowed until we had to walk single-file. My shoulder scraped the wall. The stone was damp, and when my fingers brushed it, a slimy film coated my skin.
Something dripped onto my neck. Warm. Thick.
I slapped at it and felt it smear across my hand.
"Lena…"
"Faster."
I quickened my pace, my breath harsh and uneven. The sound behind us grew faster too.
"Okay, not to panic you," I said, "but whatever that is, it's gaining."
"I know."
We rounded a bend. The tunnel angled slightly upward now, and my legs burned with each step. The thing behind us didn't sound winded at all.
"What happens if it catches us?" I asked.
"You don't want to know."
"That's… not encouraging."
"It's not meant to be."
We passed under a section where roots hung from the ceiling like black ropes. One brushed my face, and I flinched hard, nearly stumbling.
The dragging sound was louder now. Closer.
"Lena—"
"I know."
We reached another bend—and light flared ahead. A faint golden glow spilled from a half-open doorway in the wall.
"Go," she ordered.
She darted inside. I followed, my heart hammering.
The door slammed behind us. She dropped a heavy metal bar across it with a clang that echoed in the small space.
Silence.
I pressed my ear to the wood. Nothing. No footsteps. No dragging. Just the slow drip of water somewhere above us.
"What was that?" I asked again, my voice cracking a little despite my best effort.
She didn't answer right away. Instead, she lit a lantern hanging from a hook on the wall. The flicker of light revealed a small room lined with shelves—rusted tins of food stacked in uneven piles, folded blankets, a battered kettle, and a worn map of the city nailed to the far wall.
It looked… safe.
But Lena's face told me it wasn't. Her eyes were sharper than before, scanning the corners of the room like she half-expected something to crawl out.
"Lena," I pressed.
Finally, she met my eyes. "They call them Shadows," she said quietly. "They're not alive, not dead. They hunt in the dark, and the moment they touch you…" She trailed off, jaw tightening.
"The moment they touch you, what?"
"You stop being you."
"That's—" I stopped. My throat had gone dry. "You've seen it happen?"
She didn't answer, which told me more than words could.
A faint thump came from the other side of the door.
I jerked my head toward it. "Tell me that's not—"
"It's just the pipes," she said quickly, but her hand slid toward the knife at her belt.
We both waited, listening. No more sounds came.
I exhaled slowly and sat on a low crate. My legs felt like they'd been carrying me for miles, and the pounding in my head was making it hard to think straight.
"You'll need rest," Lena said, pulling a blanket from the shelf and tossing it to me.
"Rest? After that?"
"You'll need it for tomorrow."
I frowned. "Tomorrow for what?"
She hesitated just long enough for my stomach to knot.
"Because," she said finally, her voice dropping, "the hunters aren't the only ones after you."
The lantern flickered, throwing her shadow high against the wall. For a second, it looked… wrong. Too long. Too thin.
I blinked, and it was gone.