"Shit—go, move!" Ryvak's voice cracked through the tunnel like a whip, one boot already slipping on the resin-coated slope beneath them. The cave groaned in response. Asher ducked, his shoulder brushing against a pulsing cyst as he dragged himself forward. Sticky film clung to his armor, something twitching inside the cyst once before stilling again. His skin crawled. He forced his gaze ahead. "Stay low," Thorne barked, his voice a tight growl. "Eyes up. We lose training, we die." The tunnel narrowed, ribbed and veined walls pulsing gently—lungs breathing a silence they couldn't hear. Each inhale tasted like copper and bile, the air thick and sour. Asher bit down hard, fighting the nausea rising from his gut. "Beth," Thorne commanded. Right flank. Keep watch. Beth shifted silently beside him, her armor like a second skin. Asher felt the Void Stone hum faintly along his spine—not a warning or pain, but a whispering presence. Always watching. Measuring. Did it learn from him, or did he learn from it? He hated how much the question felt like an answer.
In this fire team, he knew he was dead weight—just like the others. Except for Troy, their one void-powered soldier, now depleted and exhausted. No shard. Just a mundane team of humans with mundane training. Asher also had the disadvantage of a cursed rock latched to his spine, and a gnawing fear that refused to let go. "I shouldn't be here," he muttered, low enough to vanish beneath the sounds of shifting resin. "I'm not built for this." Was this mission down south just an execution disguised by the big wigs up north? The thought burned cold in his gut. The resin underfoot crackled softly, sickeningly organic. They were walking through hatchery soil, living tissue masquerading as ground. Ryvak whispered ahead, voice strained. "This place wants to be alive." No one argued. Flashlights sliced weakly through the darkness, beams fading unnaturally as if the Hive itself swallowed the light. Something wanted them deeper.
Thorne signaled a halt. "Troy, thoughts." Troy's voice trembled, weak and breathless. "I've got nothing. Essence drained." "Then slow and silent," Thorne said firmly. "Minimal noise. Don't touch the walls." "Troy, you good?" Asher whispered, noticing how pale he had become. Troy shook his head slightly, eyes glazing with exhaustion. "I... think I'm out, man. Can't feel anything." "Stay close," Asher urged, worry tightening his throat. "We'll get you through." Troy nodded, a weak attempt at reassurance. But his steps grew uneven, faltering. Then the Hive shifted around them. A hiss echoed behind the walls, breath released from deep within. Asher whispered instinctively, "Something's hunting." Beth glanced back, her eyes shadowed. "No. Something's waiting."
The tunnel widened into a chamber lined with eggs—bulging, pulsing, translucent shapes holding fetal shadows. The flashlights dimmed further, the air heavy and oppressive. "We're inside it," Ryvak breathed, panic flickering at the edges of his voice. Asher knelt beside a cyst, trying not to vomit. The Stone hummed, whispering again. Remember. Remember what? Flashes burst into his mind—heat, silence, a throne of bone and flesh. Not memories—warnings. Thorne's voice was a tense whisper. "Take the left wall. Slow." They crept along the edge. At the chamber's center, amber-black fluid dripped rhythmically, the sound like a heart beating. Then breathing changed. At the far end, a figure rose—skeletal, elongated. A Sentinel. Asher's knees tightened, recognition igniting fear. It hadn't seen them yet, scanning lazily, head shifting as if listening. Asher raised his hand, signaling silently. Beth responded with two fingers—bypass. Each step sounded traitorous. Even breathing felt too loud. Asher's boot brushed something soft. He froze, staring down at another egg pulsing once beneath him. Then Ryvak stumbled. Crunch. The egg shattered.
A metallic screech erupted from the Sentinel, ears ringing painfully. Around them, cysts split open, malformed limbs bursting free, creatures screaming inhuman rage. "Tunnel! Regroup!" Beth shouted, drawing fire. Asher yanked Ryvak back from lunging jaws. Thorne's blade flashed, black blood spraying hot against stone walls. "Troy!" Asher shouted, spinning back in time to see Troy collapse, a malformed spawn clamping onto his leg. "Troy's down!" He lunged forward, driving his bone-blade into the creature. It screeched, releasing Troy, who moaned weakly. "Stay with me," Asher pleaded, dragging Troy toward the tunnel. Troy struggled, his breath ragged. "I can't… keep up," he gasped, fingers slipping from Asher's grip. His knees buckled, sending him crashing to the floor, face pale and eyes wide with panic. "Don't let go!" Asher shouted, desperation sharpening his voice. He reached for Troy again, but another creature lunged, forcing him to turn and strike. "Leave me," Troy wheezed, pushing weakly at Asher's hands. "Just go—" "I'm not leaving you!" Asher roared, frustration and guilt mixing in his chest. But the swarm was relentless, pressing him back, cutting off his view of Troy's struggling form.
They reached a narrow choke point, creatures funneling toward them. Beth took point, firing rapidly. Asher fought desperately, his blade slicing through limbs, but at some point, Troy fell behind completely. Minutes blurred until silence fell. Asher leaned against the wall, lungs burning. Beth checked Ryvak's leg, her voice clinical. "You'll live." "Didn't ask," Ryvak grunted, masking fear with defiance. Thorne wiped his blade, eyes hard. "She's deeper. That was defense. Instinct." Beth's voice was soft, edged with doubt. "What if we're never supposed to reach her?" Asher stared down the narrowing tunnel, hand touching the Stone—colder now, quieter. He felt weaker than ever, hollowed by their losses. "Troy's gone," Thorne murmured bitterly. "Our last shard wielder, and he wasn't enough." Beth nodded slowly. "We're out of shards." Asher stared at his empty hands. "My Stone doesn't help. Not how it should." Ryvak wiped sweat from his face, hand trembling. "Then what the hell do we do now?" Asher didn't answer at first. He couldn't. His mind spun with doubt, memories he didn't want, whispers he couldn't silence. Yet in this broken place, something hardened within him. Finally, he spoke quietly, the words as much to himself as to the others. "How are we going to survive this?"