The ascent had just begun.
Blood still clung to their boots, thick and blackened from the High Priestess's corpse. The orb—green and swirling with malevolent energy—rested in a reinforced containment case on Hal's back.
But just as they neared the halfway point up the temple stairs, Feron stopped dead.
"…Do you hear that?"
Inigo froze, then raised a fist silently. Everyone halted.
A sound—distant and rhythmic.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Like something massive dragging its limbs.
From the walls, a low vibration pulsed outward. The green flames in the sconces dimmed, flickering uncertainly.
Then, an eerie groan echoed from below. The kind of sound stone should never make—wet and alive, like flesh tearing.
Feron backed up two steps. "The summoning... we stopped it too late. Something still got through."
The stairwell trembled.
