The children carefully descended the staircase, each step squelching as their boots sank into the soft surface. The serpents twisted and tightened beneath them, responding to the pressure of their movements. Sylas held his palm high, lightning sparking from his fingers to illuminate the narrow tunnel. Shadows danced wildly on the walls, amplifying the serpents' writhing menace. Their scales shimmered in flashes of green and blue as they tightened and shifted.
Behind them, the serpents' tails thrashed furiously, stirring the murky water and carving out a temporary path. At the same time, their movements sealed off any chance of retreat.
Milla gagged as drops of briny water dripped from the stirred ceiling above. The stench of rotting fish was overwhelming, suffocating them with every breath. "It's breathing," she hissed, staggering as the stairs beneath her buckled and heaved like a living esophagus. She grabbed Alan's arm for support.
The staircase suddenly arched upward, flinging the group into an opening deep within the pond's belly. They tumbled onto solid ground as the serpents snapped their jaws shut behind them. Their twisting tails fused together, forming a throbbing, pulsating seal. Thick strands of saliva stretched and hardened into translucent glue between their scales, creating an impenetrable barrier that blocked out the water completely.
Alan wasted no time. He swung his sword against the walls, observing as it left behind three curved slashes. "Rock, not meat," he muttered.
Sylas's lightning flickered across the passage walls, revealing a passage that stretched ahead into complete darkness. Shadows devoured the light, obscuring whatever lay beyond.
"What is this place?" Emma asked as she stared into the void.
Sylas kept his gaze forward. "It's the passage to Kragnir's tomb—the real one," he said.
"Nora said something about Kragnir's tomb when she read the carvings on the tomb," Gerral added, his brow furrowing. "She said those writings were only known to nobles. How do you know about it?"
"Wait," Milla interrupted, turning to Sylas with a suspicious look. She pinched his ribs sharply out of habit. "You didn't just make Kragnir's tomb up?"
"Ouch!" Sylas yelped, grabbing her wrist to stop her.
Gerral narrowed his eyes, his voice laced with suspicion. "Don't tell me you're secretly a noble," he said, practically spitting the word 'noble' as though it were poison.
Sylas coughed a laugh—strained and awkward. "Me? A noble? Ha! Do you see gold on me? Guards following me?" He paused, a flicker of discomfort flashing in his eyes. "I read about it in the library back at the academy. The same letters were there."
No one bought his excuse. His gaze darted around as their stares remained fixed on him. He released a defeated sigh.
"Here." He snatched out a crumpled yellow page. "I tore this from a book in the academy."
"I recognize that book!" Emma exclaimed, taking the page from Sylas' hand. "But not this page."
"Because I took it," Sylas said, smiling with pride. The hunting stares soften.
"I knew it! There's no way someone with your dumb looks could actually read those gibberish carvings, not to mention being a noble," Milla teased, pinching the back of his neck with her free hand.
"Ouch, ouch—let go!" Sylas barked, squirming away from her grip.
—
As they moved forward, the passage widened, leading them into a cavern so vast it seemed endless. The cavern stretched out like the mouth of some ancient beast, its vaulted ceiling hidden in darkness. Stalactites hung down like jagged fangs, gleaming faintly in the dim light cast by Sylas' lightning.
A pillar stood at the center of the cavern, rising tall and ominous from the water below. Its surface was weathered and dark, veined with red lines that glowed faintly like dying embers. Atop the pillar sat an altar, twisted and strange. It looked less like something crafted and more like something grown. Its black stone was threaded with veins of molten gold, curling inward like frozen flames caught in a violent storm.
Below, the lake churned with an unnatural rhythm. Its surface rippled in rusty waves, disturbed by the steady droplets that fell from above. Each drop struck the water with a soft plop, releasing tendrils of coppery mist that spread across the surface like oil. Four jagged stone bridges stretched across the lake into the pillar in the center, their tips pointing toward the altar like clawed fingers reaching in desperation.
Alan stepped forward cautiously, his boots sending small pebbles tumbling into the mist below. The wind from the altar moaned, intertwining with the unsettling whispers of the water.
The group paused. Listening, waiting for moments. No boiling. No violent jaws splashed out. No tails stirring the water below. They moved forward.
The altar was covered in cracked reliefs that depicted hooded figures performing a ritual. At its center was a slightly ajar door. Warm air seeped from the opening, stirring Emma's hair like unseen fingers testing their grip. It tickled and felt familiar. She took a hesitant step closer, curiosity outweighing her fear.
"What's inside?" she whispered softly, afraid to stir whatever was sleeping inside.
Gerral did not share her fear. Without warning, he grabbed Chase and shoved him toward the door. The boy stumbled through the opening, his scream ringing out briefly before being cut off. Heat roared from the doorway, washing over the group like a furnace blast. Then there was silence.
Milla's eyes widen with shock. Her face turned red as she stared at the hungry door. "Why did you do that?!" she shouted with a pit of anger.
"Is he dead?" Emma whispered.
Sylas' expression turned feral. "Guess we'll find out," he said with a smirk, then reached out suddenly and grabbed Milla's wrist. Without giving her a chance to protest, he dragged her forward, pulling her through the doorway behind him. Her terrified scream, mixed with anger, echoed briefly before disappearing into the void.
Alan turned to Emma. He reached for her hand and held it firmly despite the slick cave mist coating their palms. "Stay close," he said quietly. Together, they stepped through the doorway, disappearing into the darkness.
Gerral hesitated, lingering near the door. Warm air brushed against his face, carrying the scent of copper and burnt herbs. He clenched his jaw, muttered a curse under his breath, and followed the others through the altar.