The speaker turned without another word and started walking.
I followed, boots scraping over damp stone, the faint glow of the wall veins guiding our path. The air grew warmer the deeper we went, thick with a smell like rust and wet leaves.
The tunnel widened into a chamber unlike any I'd seen in the underground. The walls weren't stone anymore—they were flesh. Not human, not animal, but a stretched, living membrane that pulsed with slow heartbeats. Veins glowed within it, twisting together in knots, vanishing deep into the floor.
The speaker stopped in the center. "Here," they said, voice echoing strangely. "This place listens."
The Nameless God stirred inside my skull. It doesn't just listen. It remembers.
I stepped closer to one of the walls. The membrane shivered under my breath, as if it knew I was there.
The Speaker raised a hand, and the veins in the wall brightened. "The Binding is simple in form, impossible in truth. You will choose a vein, and it will choose you back. That choice will change you forever."
They pulled a small blade from their robe—thin, curved, and more for cutting skin than for fighting. The metal caught the green light, and the air shifted, heavier now.
"You must offer something," the Speaker said. "Flesh. Memory. Spirit. Decide now, before the cut is made."
The Nameless God's whisper was low and sharp. Say nothing. I'll decide for you.
I ignored it. "And if I don't offer?"
"Then the Vein takes what it wants."
The Speaker held the blade out. I took it. Its handle was warm.
I thought about the girl's face—the laughter, the warmth, the trust. I thought about the nobles who ordered her death and the way they'd smiled while she screamed.
"I offer," I said quietly, "my past."
The Speaker's masked head tilted. "Bold. Dangerous. But the Vein will feed well on it."
I cut my palm. Blood welled up, darker than it should have been. It dripped onto the floor—and the chamber moved. The flesh beneath us flexed like a breathing lung.
The veins in the wall flared white-hot, and the floor split open. Beneath the gap was not stone, but an endless drop into green fire.
The speaker spoke in a language I didn't know, their voice deepening, doubling. My blood ran along the living floor toward the gap, drawn into it as if pulled by invisible hands.
The Nameless God's voice rose, louder now. Fool. They will claim more than you think.
Pain ripped through my arm. The veins beneath my skin began to glow, matching the walls. My heartbeat matched the chamber's pulse, faster, faster.
The Speaker stepped back. "The Vein accepts."
The floor's light flared. My vision blurred. The Nameless God screamed in my mind—not in fear, but in rage. No. I will not let them have you.
Something tore inside me—a second pulse, sharp and alien, ripping across the connection between me and the Vein. The speaker froze mid-chant.
The walls began to darken. The glow turned from green to a deep, blood-red.
The Nameless God's voice dropped to a hiss. Hold on to me.
And then the floor collapsed.