The ground vanished beneath Ilwoo's feet.
One moment, he stood on solid stone at the spiral's entrance, the next, he plummeted through a collapsing sinkhole that opened like a hungry mouth. Sand rushed around him, not falling but moving with purpose, pressing against his body from every direction.
"Ilwoo!" Hayeon's voice echoed from somewhere far above, growing fainter as he sank deeper into the earth.
The sand squeezed his chest, making each breath a struggle. It filled his mouth when he tried to shout back, the coarse grains grinding between his teeth. This wasn't natural—the sand moved like a living thing, flowing upward to cover his face, wrapping around his limbs to drag him down.
Panic clawed at his mind. He thrashed against the suffocating embrace, but the sand only tightened its grip. His lungs burned as precious air escaped in useless bubbles.
The Nine Flame Sword.
