Chase crouched beside Clark's lifeless body. The rot had already begun to eat away his flesh. Beside him, the pool of blood had congealed into a viscous, inky mass, its edges dried and crusted.
His hand trembled as he reached for his index finger. He hesitated, then dug his thumbnail beneath it. He pried, the nail bent, but holds firm. He pressed harder—POP. The nail snapped in the middle, bloody strings scattered over its broken frame. He twisted it—CRRRK—the nail cracked diagonally, but clung stubbornly to the blood vessels. He twisted the other way—CRRRK.
Chase bit his lip; his face turned pale. With a sharp tug, he ripped the broken nail free. Blood welled up, staining his palm. Without a pause, he plunged the shard into Clark's congealed pool.
He chanted a soft and strange spell with trembling lips. The blood began to simmer, bubbling and coming alive. Moss on the cavern walls shriveled and curled as though scorched by unseen flames. Black ink bled into the seething blood, swirling in hypnotic, restless patterns. At first, the shapes seemed random. But then, they stirred with purpose. Figures pushed upward—chitinous forms breaking the surface, their gleaming carapaces catching the dim light like polished obsidian. Insects emerged, rising from the depths, summoned by Chase's strange spell. They gathered around Clark's blood and began to feed.
Tik-tik-tik-tik. Countless legs tapped against the stone as the insects devoured the blood.
Milla shrank as Chase's head snapped back, his ink-filled eyes devouring every trace of light. His neck twisted at a brutal angle, as if broken, tendons bulging grotesquely beneath his pale skin. The sight twisted her stomach, and a chill ran down her spine.
Chase's head jerked toward her.
She jolted.
"This way," he rasped.
As if summoned by his words, the insects surged ahead, filling every crack and crevice. Their ink-stained legs skittered across the cavern walls, tracing inked arrows deeper into the labyrinth. The group shared wary glances but still followed, their trust in Chase hanging by a thread.
They retraced their steps to the cavern where the assassin girl's lifeless body lay hopelessly in a heap. Her severed finger still rested limply in the young man's grip. Chase walked past them without sparing a glance. His insects burst ahead of him, scattering into the passages like cockroaches fleeing from the light.
The group wound through the labyrinth, emerging into a cavern where a small stream spilled into a pond so dark it swallowed the glow of the surrounding crystals.
The insects swarmed toward the water. One by one, they dissolved back into ink as they touched the surface of the pool. The ink spread in swirling patterns, forming intricate designs that flickered like dying stars before fading into nothing.
"His trace ends here," Chase murmured. The midnight-black tendrils of smoke leaked from his irises, mirroring the dissolution of his insects.
Milla stepped cautiously to the edge of the pool. She peered into the water—it was pitch black. No reflection escaped despite the surrounding light. Only the ripples from the cascading stream revealed that it was water.
"But it's just—"
Alan grabbed her braid and yanked her back sharply.
KA-SPLOOOOSH! The water exploded. A massive circular jaw snapped shut where her neck had been moments earlier.
KASPLAAASH! The monster vanished beneath the surface, sending waves surging over them. They staggered back, drenched. The smell of fish, rot, and moss filled the air.
Milla's voice cracked: "What was that?" She grabbed Sylas' arm as the waves rippled across the pond. Sylas unsheathed his axes, scanning the rippling surface for movements—it gives none.
Alan's sword hissed. "Serpent monsters. Last time, I outran them through the tunnel." He turned back. "Chase, are you sure the trace ended here?"
The blind Tracker collapsed onto the stone floor. "The Shadow Stalkers dissolved here," he said softly. "Connor's mana stops at the waterline. Either he dissolved... or descended."
Gerral swung his root trident toward Chase, pressing the tip against his throat. "Convenient. Lead us to certain death, then plead ignorance?" Gerral growled. He grabbed Chase's tunic and shook him roughly. "You stink of lies—just like her!"
"Enough!" Alan grabbed Gerral's arm and forced it down. "We still need him."
For a tense moment, Gerral's knuckles stayed white on the fabric, his anger radiating like heat. But then, with a low growl, he released Chase. The boy crumpled helplessly onto the stone, coughing as he tried to catch his breath.
Emma approached and crouched beside him. "You said Connor descended. Could there be a passage under the water?" she asked with a gentle voice. Chase shook his head.
Sylas placed one foot on the edge of the pool. He glanced back at the group. "Only one way to find out," he said.
Without waiting for a response, he drew his axe across his palm. Thick, syrupy blood dripped from the wound, splashing onto the water's surface.
"Are you stupid? The serpents will eat you!" Milla shouted. Sylas ignored her, squeezing his hand harder to release more blood into the pond.
The reaction was immediate. The pool boiled, its surface erupting into chaotic turbulence. A foul stench rolled over them, fishy, rotten, and something else. The water swirled violently as shapes emerged—serpentine forms twisting together into an impossible spiral. Their coiled bodies formed a staircase glistening with slime.
Sylas smirked, shaking the blood from his hand. "After you, doubter," he said, glancing at Milla.
Whummp! A young serpent snapped at the droplets. "Ah!" Sylas yelped, stumbling backward—his butt hit the ground.
"Ha! I told you, idiot!" Milla shouted.
Sylas shot her a glare as he climbed to his feet. "I'm fine, thanks for asking," he muttered, brushing off his pants.
Alan stepped toward the edge of the pond. He tested one foot on the living staircase—it quivered to his touch. The quake rippled down the entire chain of serpents, undulating like a pulse.
Gerral gripped his trident tightly. "If these things twitch—"
"They won't," Sylas interrupted, brushing past him and stepping onto the stairs. He jumped—the serpents groaned. "See? Perfectly safe."
His boots squelched against the mucus-coated surface as he descended. "Are you coming?" His voice echoed downward.
The group hesitated, then followed. With each step, the flesh staircase pulsed like a living heartbeat.