Yong awoke to the cold weight of silence and the sting of something sharp in his leg. His helmet lamp buzzed weakly, casting a thin beam across jagged rock and the faces of fallen men. Around him, the air felt heavier than before—pressurized, as if they had sunk into the chest of the earth and it had inhaled them.
He sat up slowly, wincing. Black sludge clung to his clothes, still wet, still moving—but sluggish now, like it had gone dormant.
"Zhang…" he croaked.
A few feet away, Zhang stirred, coughing, his face streaked with grime and blood. Others groaned in the shadows—maybe five or six who were conscious. The rest lay still or twisted, their bodies half-submerged in the now-shallow black pool that coated the floor.
"Get up if you can," Zhang rasped. "We need to move the injured."
Yong crawled to a miner with a twisted ankle, pulled him gently to the wall, and propped him up beside two others who were slowly regaining their senses. There was confusion, exhaustion, fear—but no panic. Not yet. Not after what they'd already seen.
"We need to clean the wounds," said one man, checking another's arm. "If any of this goo gets into open skin…"
He trailed off. No one wanted to finish that thought.
They bound what they could with rags and gear. But nothing felt right. The air still buzzed faintly in their ears, like the space itself was humming. Watching.
After a while, Yong stood.
"We should see what's around us," he said. "We're not getting out unless we find another way."
Zhang gave a tired nod.
They followed the curve of the massive chamber. The walls were half-stone, half-something else—etched with deep, sweeping marks that could've been writing or claw marks, or both. Faint silver veins ran through the stone, glowing just enough to make out their path.
Then they saw it.
A door.
It towered above them—twice the height of any of them, maybe more. It was wrong in shape, with no clear hinges, and lines that bent at impossible angles. The surface shimmered faintly, covered in dark markings that didn't reflect light so much as absorb it.
Yong approached it slowly. Just being near the door made his bones feel heavier.
"Not human," someone muttered.
They tried to push it open—five of them straining against it with all their weight. The door didn't move. Not even a creak. Not even resistance. It simply stood—silent, unmoved, as if waiting for something else.
Four hours passed.
By now, all ten miners were awake. Some limped. Some carried others. But there was no turning back, and no way up. The black pool beneath their feet had thinned, but it was still there—sticky and strange. A few men still wiped it from their skin, eyes wide with quiet dread.
They returned to the door.
"Let's try again," Zhang said. "Together."
They gathered. Braced. Pushed.
And then—it happened.
From the cracks in the stone beneath their boots, the black goo began to move. Fast.
It surged toward the door—crawling, climbing, then flowing into the edges of its massive seams.
A deep groan echoed through the walls—low, like a creature stirring in its sleep.
Then the door opened.
Fast. Too fast.
A burst of black force exploded outward—goo and wind and something else—something that screamed without sound. Two miners were thrown across the chamber. Another collapsed, choking on the air.
The room reeled.
And then—stillness.
The door hung open like the throat of a beast.
Beyond it lay a vast chamber—lit by a dull, otherworldly glow. At its center: a massive crystalline cocoon, webbed with black veins, suspended above a pit by what looked like sinew and fossilized roots.
Inside the crystal: a shape.
A creature.
Its form was humanoid—but stretched. Wrong. Its limbs too long. Its head tilted unnaturally forward, encased in black crystal that pulsed with the same oily fluid that now coated the floor.
From the cocoon's seams, the goo seeped out—the same black substance that had pulled them in, that had nearly drowned them.
The miners stood in frozen silence, staring up at it.
"It's dead," someone whispered.
But it wasn't.
Yong stepped forward, eyes locked on the cocoon. His heart beat slower. Colder. Something inside the crystal had opened its eyes.
Not physically. Not visibly.
But every man felt it.
They were seen.
A deep chill moved through them—not from the creature, but from the place itself. The walls began to hum again, and the black goo rippled at their feet.
Whatever was sealed here, it knew they were here.
And it did not feel like welcoming them.