The pit didn't sleep that night.
Guards doubled their shifts.
The Warden barked new orders, posted watchmen at every tunnel entrance, and forbade anyone from entering *The Spine* without his seal.
But it was already too late for rules.
Auron knew that.
The mine wasn't just full of whispers anymore. Now it was breathing — like a living thing. Every corridor pulsed with something old and rising.
He stood at the edge of the food storage chamber, watching.
Waiting.
The figure from the Spine hadn't returned, but the memory of their voice stayed in his mind.
**"I'm worse."**
Auron wasn't sure if that meant they were dangerous… or dying.
Either way, he would find out.
Soon.
---
The next morning, Mira Vael returned to the pit.
Her expression was unreadable as always, but her soldiers looked uneasy. Tired. Worn down from long hours spent scanning tunnels for traces of abyssal rot.
She summoned the Warden, Jace, and Auron into the war hall — a stone room near the upper ledge, marked with maps, red strings, and reports.
Without preamble, she dropped a broken mask on the table.
Half-melted. Half-burned.
It resembled the mask Auron had hidden in cloth.
But not exactly.
"This was found near the west shaft," she said. "Alongside a drained guard."
"Same attacker?" the Warden asked.
"No," Mira said. "Worse. I think it's a copycat. Or another fracture."
Auron said nothing.
Jace's voice was low. "There's more than one?"
"There could be dozens," Mira replied. "The Abyss doesn't move in straight lines. It creeps. Possesses. Splits."
She turned to Auron.
"And the more power you take from it, the more it responds. Like a mirror."
Auron met her eyes. "So you're blaming me?"
"I'm saying," Mira replied, "you may have started something you can't control."
The room went quiet.
Then the system pinged in Auron's mind.
\[Notice: Mask Signature Detected – Matching Pattern: Whispering Mask Variant]
\[Status: Hostile]
\[Recommendation: Locate Original Before Sync is Complete]
He clenched his fists under the table.
Whoever found a version of the mask wasn't just infected.
They were becoming something else.
Something worse than he had seen.
Mira slid a sheet across the table. A map. A sector of the mine long thought abandoned.
Auron recognized it.
The *Drift Chambers* — half-flooded, used long ago for dumping failed artifacts and broken tools.
"This is where we go next," Mira said.
"You're taking me with you?" Auron asked.
She nodded.
"You know the Abyss better than any of us. That makes you useful."
"And dangerous."
"Everything useful is dangerous."
Jace looked between them.
"Do I go too?"
"No," Mira said flatly. "One abyss-touched is enough."
---
Later, back in his quarters, Auron unwrapped the Whispering Mask again.
It didn't move.
Didn't pulse.
But the air around it was colder now.
Like something was getting closer.
The voice in his head returned, low and slow.
**"He's coming."**
Auron sat on the stone bed, holding the mask in his hands.
"Who?" he asked.
The voice didn't answer.
Only laughed.
A deep, broken sound that echoed into the walls.
Then silence.
---
Somewhere far across the mine, deep beneath the Drift Chambers, water rippled.
A boy no older than fifteen stood in a pool of black water, holding a mask that looked half-melted.
He stared into it with hollow eyes.
And whispered a name that wasn't his.
Something ancient.
Something lost.
The mask pulsed.
And the Abyss opened its mouth again.