The descent led them farther into the mountain's hollow heart. With each step, the ether was odd, less welcoming. The walls no longer pulsed with the vibrant glow that had marked their earlier path. Crystals still jutted from the stone, their light faded to a dim, almost sickly hue, casting long shadows that seemed to cling to the group. Silence enveloped them now, heavy and unbroken. Even the Beastman brothers, Bahari and Habari, kept their voices low, their earlier banter forgotten, replaced by a shared wariness.
Odd shapes began to appear along the walls, half-buried metal slabs with fractured panels and long-dead wiring, their surfaces rusted and worn. Some were embedded in the stone itself, as if the mountain had swallowed them whole and grown around them over centuries. Plates covered in dials, twisted rods, and shattered lenses littered the path at intervals, remnants of some technological relic whose purpose remained a mystery. No one in the group could identify them, and none dared tamper with the strange artifacts, their edges sharp with age and neglect.
Shun raised a hand, his silver Jian catching the faint light as he signaled the group to halt. They stood at the edge of a massive open chamber, its vastness swallowing the dim glow of the crystals. A faint rumble echoed from beyond, rhythmic and deep, like the heartbeat of the mountain itself. The group moved cautiously, stepping over cracked platforms and creeping along the chamber's edge until they reached the source of the sound.
A waterfall spilled from a jagged crevice high above, its icy torrent crashing into a basin below. The water veiled a narrow opening in the rock wall behind it, mist curling in the air, cold and silver in the low light. Shun stepped into the spray, the freezing water soaking through his cloak, chilling his skin. The others followed, their teeth chattering, boots slipping against slick stone as they pressed through the cascade. Behind the waterfall, the path sloped downward sharply, a series of handholds, some natural and some carved, marking the descent.
They climbed, their movements slow and deliberate, hands gripping the cold stone, feet searching for purchase. The descent felt longer than it was, every second filled with the roar of falling water behind them, drowning out all other sound. When their feet finally touched the lower level, silence greeted them, sudden and oppressive. The chamber was vast and dry, its air heavy with the scent of minerals and ether. Water trickled along the far walls, thin streams that glistened faintly but didn't touch the center, where something strange rested like an altar.
A crystalline rock, twice the size of a grown man, sat in the middle of the cavern, its surface smooth and glowing faintly blue from within. Around it, the ground was etched with spirals and curves, glyphs of a language no one recognized, their lines sharp and deliberate. Shun approached cautiously, his Jian lowered but ready, its silver blade glinting in the dim light. He scanned the carvings, crouching to touch one with his hand. The stone was cold, unnaturally so, and the markings carried no familiar rhythm, no cultural similarity to the scripts of any nation he had studied.
Behind him, the others spread out, their movements quiet. Most observed from a distance, their eyes lingering on the crystalline rock or the strange machines half-buried in the walls. Some whispered among themselves about the relics, their voices low, speculative. Others watched the shadows, their hands resting on their weapons, senses alert.
One soldier broke the silence. "Hey, Captain," he called, his voice echoing oddly in the vast chamber, too loud for the stillness.
Shun turned. The man, a younger recruit named Taran, stood near the largest crystalline boulder at the far end of the room. His hand rested against its surface, his eyes wide, tracing the strange glow that pulsed beneath the smooth exterior. "Do you think we could take one of these back to the blacksmith? Maybe find a use for it, maybe make it into something for me? Ive been overdue for a new wepon."
He never finished his sentence.
A wet sound echoed through the chamber, sharp and sudden, like meat torn from bone.
Then something hit the floor.
It landed with a dull, sickening thud, the sound reverberating off the walls.
Toren was the first to move, stepping forward with his Sword half-raised, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the chamber. Shun ran toward the voice, his boots pounding against the stone, his Jian gripped tightly.
What he found stole the breath from his lungs.
Only the lower half of Taran remained. His legs, boots still laced, collapsed to the floor in a slump, blood pooling beneath them. His upper torso was gone, severed cleanly at the waist as if carved by a blade sharper than anything the group carried. Blood sprayed across the stone in a slow arc, dark and glistening in the dim light. The crystalline boulder Taran had touched remained unchanged, humming softly with its internal glow, indifferent to the horror before it.
No one spoke.
Then a sound came from the ceiling, a low crack, like stone shifting under pressure.
Shun raised his blade, its silver edge catching the faint light.
The group looked up, their movements synchronized, their breaths held.
Something clung to the roof, almost invisible in the low light. It blended with the crystal veins that streaked across the ceiling, its form unmoving, waiting. The shape shifted, long limbs retracting with unnatural grace. A glint of carapace caught the eye, sharp and reflective, like polished glass.
It wasn't a boulder.
It had never been a boulder.
Habari stepped back, his voice low, almost a growl. "That thing—"
Shun didn't let him finish. "Form up!" he barked, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.
The others scrambled into position, their weapons drawn in a heartbeat. Lira nocked an arrow, her bow steady, her eyes locked on the ceiling. Toren stood at the front, his Sword raised, his expression unreadable but focused. Bahari and Habari moved to the flanks, their spike and shield extended, their massive forms coiled with tension. The remaining soldiers formed a tight circle, their blades and spears glinting faintly in the dim light.
The creature on the ceiling shifted again, its movements deliberate, predatory. Its body was too long, its limbs bent backward, spindly and sharp like shards of broken glass. A head hung low, featureless but for a deep hollow where a face should have been, its edges shimmering with the same crystalline sheen as the boulder below. Its form rippled, as if wrapped in layers of false crystal, not armor but a shell of deception that blended with the chamber's light.
The glyphs on the floor began to glow, their lines pulsing with a sickly violet hue, mirroring the creature's presence. Shun felt something crawl beneath his skin, a deep pressure in his chest that made it hard to breathe. He tightened his grip on his Jian, his eyes locked on the thing above, its hollow face seeming to stare back.
The corpse, what was left of Taran, twitched. His severed legs jerked once, then again, the movement unnatural, wrong. Blood smeared across the stone as they shifted, drawn by some unseen force.
Behind them, the crystalline rock cracked open, a jagged split running down its center. The blue glow within pulsed brighter, then dimmed, as if something inside was stirring.
No one dared move.
Taran's legs dragged themselves toward the center of the room, one slow scrape at a time, leaving a trail of blood that glistened in the violet light.