Light nudges to the shoulder woke Siren, pulling him out of sleep.
Next to him stood Mearin, leaning on his cane. Realizing that Siren was awake, he pulled his hand back and silently watched as the young man gasped for air, like a drowning man.
"Bad dream?" the old mage asked calmly.
Siren looked at him, taking a few seconds to shake off the confusion. Coming to his senses, he looked around and said:
"Nothing much. Just another dream."
Goosebumps ran down his back, and his forehead was covered in cold sweat.
Siren usually paid no attention to his dreams. Once, old Ké had told him that dreams are just a reflection of a person's inner worries. When someone is anxious, they see nightmares. And when they're happy — only good dreams.
"Guess I'll never have normal dreams," Siren thought, sighing wearily.
Mearin gave a short nod and then stood up.
"We need to go."
Without a word, Siren got to his feet and threw his backpack over his shoulders.
Together, they walked for several hours through winding tunnels. Mearin pointed the way, guided by a strange device in his hands, while Siren led the way, avoiding traps and marking their locations for the mage.
As they descended, they occasionally came across massive figures of dead ants. Up close, they looked even bigger to Siren. A single limb was thicker than his forearm — and they had six of those.
The deeper they went, the more ants they encountered. Their huge bodies were covered in a thick layer of chitin, and their predatory mandibles were large enough to resemble giant shears.
"Why are they so big?" Siren asked.
Mearin, drawing a formula in the air, used a stream of air to push aside a body that was blocking the path.
"Not exactly sure. Some say the ants mutated after the Great Cataclysm five hundred years ago. Others claim it's the work of Satanists, who summoned them from hell," Mearin frowned at that, as if chasing away dark thoughts.
"Either way, it's believed they migrated south after the Western Alliance's military campaigns."
Siren listened to the mage's story carefully, until a thought struck him.
"So… there are no ants in the nest right now?"
Mearin gave Siren a strange look, then replied:
"Of course not. You think we'd crawl into a labyrinth that still has living ants? We wouldn't stand a chance if they were here!"
Siren stared at the mage in shock, speechless.
What the hell?.. So I could've escaped from them safely?!
Earlier, he had completely abandoned the idea of splitting from the group, fearing encounters with ants. He wasn't confident enough to believe he could escape their lair without meeting resistance from the giant insects.
I feel like an idiot…
"Something wrong?" Mearin asked, seeing confusion and despair on Siren's face. With those words, he sent a wind blade into one of the ant corpses. The belly of the ant was completely sliced from its massive body by a precise blow to a joint.
"Nothing," Siren said in a flat voice.
He was sure he couldn't slip away from the senior mage's watchful eye now. Plus, he didn't want to end up like that ant — cut clean in half…
Pushing away all thoughts, Siren stepped forward, accepting his fate. At least it seemed like Mearin had taken some interest in him, and would likely keep his word and lead him to the surface.
After walking a bit further, they emerged into a massive underground chamber.
The space was colossal — the ceiling disappeared into darkness, and dozens of archways and passages lined the walls, stretching into the depths. Their arrangement resembled a vascular system, intertwined with perfect symmetry. Everything in this place seemed artificially organized, as if something inhuman had tried to create a heart of monstrous size.
But it wasn't the size or the shape that drew Siren's attention.
In the center of the room rose a massive circular platform, cast from darkened iron. Its diameter was the size of a house. The surface was covered in strange images — distorted, stretched faces frozen in eternal agony. Their empty eye sockets and broken mouths resembled masks of silent pain.
Siren stared at it without blinking. On the surface of the metal, he could make out thin strands of aetherial channels, faintly pulsing and glowing from within, like dried-up vessels that still carried a trace of life.
"What is that?" he whispered.
"Looks like we've arrived. If the navigator is right, this is the heart of the nest," Mearin replied.
He couldn't see the iron platform — only the surroundings and space around it. The mage didn't know what exactly Siren was staring at in the pitch-black dark, but he noticed the strange look on his face.
"You okay?"
By the flickering light of the lantern, trembling from their steps, the mage saw the serious expression on Siren's face. The boy was staring forward, as if mesmerized, not even hearing his words.
Frowning, Mearin drew a complex formula in the air. Streams of ether moved with precision, at the speed of thought, and once the last stroke was completed, the entire chamber was flooded with bright magical light.
For several seconds the cave was fully lit, and the mage saw it — the iron platform with the distorted faces. His expression changed.
Without saying a word, Mearin stepped forward, heading to the very center of the hall.
The light from the spell faded quickly, but he continued on, lighting the path with his lantern.
Siren followed after him.
Together they reached the iron platform, examining its structure.
Its base sank into the ground, while the platform itself rose half a meter above the floor. Its edges were etched with intricate grooves, merging into circuit-like patterns.
As he studied it, Siren couldn't help but wonder:
"What was a house-sized iron platform doing in an ant nest?"
The presence of obviously human architecture surprised him — especially after recalling the mage's recent words:
"Some say the fire ants were summoned by Satanists…"
"You mentioned something about Satanists earlier?" Siren asked with curiosity.
Mearin, who was meticulously inspecting the platform, sighed deeply before answering without turning around:
"Just rumors. Don't dwell on it. It's better if you don't bring them up."
Siren wouldn't let go.
"Why? Who are they, if you mention them so cautiously?"
Mearin's voice nearly cracked as he sharply turned to face Siren.
"I'm not afraid of them!"
But as if ashamed of his reaction, he continued in a calm tone:
"They're just a bunch of heretics, sowing chaos since ancient times. There's nothing good in mentioning them. If you're done — go sit somewhere and don't bother me."
With those words, he went back to meticulously examining the platform.
What's with him?..
Not offended by the mage's tone, Siren stepped back and, tossing his backpack down, dropped onto it. From his pocket he pulled out a wrapped energy bar and took a bite, watching Mearin sketch strange symbols onto paper.
The weak light from the lantern bothered Siren a little, so he turned his gaze away.
Suddenly, the bar nearly fell from his hand when he shouted:
"Old man! Turn around!"
From the walls, above several passageways, huge figures were descending, swaying unnaturally. One of them crashed to the ground with a thud, drawing the senior mage's attention.
Mearin couldn't see anything in the pitch dark, but Siren's shout and the strange noise made him tense.
He immediately drew a complex formula in the air, flooding the chamber with light.
Gripping his staff tighter, Mearin saw them too.
A dozen ants with red carapaces stood along the edges of the room, surrounding them. While another dozen were spilling out of the passageways…