The sun never rose in the Abyss, but Rey had come to recognize the slow shift in the pale glow that passed for morning. With his body cloaked in mud and his blade strapped to his back, he moved silently through the crooked trees toward the white-stone ridge.
Each step closer brought a weight to his chest.
He returned to the mound, still and quiet as yesterday. The spiral symbol remained untouched. No footprints. No disturbance. It was like the whisper had never happened.
But Rey knew better.
This time, he brought tools—sharpened monster bones, chipped rock blades, and time-honed caution. He began to dig beside the slab, not over it. If it was some kind of seal or lid, he didn't want to open it from the center.
The soil gave way too easily.
As if it had been dug before.
His heart thudded as the bone shovel scraped against something hard.
Stone.
Rey wiped the dirt away, revealing more of the carved spiral, now connected to several smaller glyphs. They weren't random—more like a map or language. He didn't understand the script, but one shape stood out clearly: a humanoid figure, kneeling, with a chain binding its neck to the floor.
A prisoner.
He looked down at his own hands, then back at the symbol.
Was that what this place truly was?
Another piece of the Abyss's twisted puzzle?
He kept digging, uncovering a square frame beneath the dirt—an entrance. A door. Covered in roots and ancient stone.
Then he heard it again.
The whisper.
But this time, it came from beneath.
"… come… "
Rey froze.
It wasn't calling for help.
It was calling him.
His grip on the blade tightened, sweat beading across his brow despite the cold.
Every instinct screamed to run. But curiosity had long since overpowered fear.
He cleared the rest of the soil from the stone lid and found a small indentation—just enough to slide fingers into and lift. He braced his legs, exhaled, and pulled.
The stone door groaned open.
A gust of air escaped, stale and dry, like it hadn't tasted the world in centuries.
He lit a small flame from a wrapped cloth soaked in beast oil and peered inside.
Stairs.
Descending into darkness.
The whisper faded.
For a moment, Rey hesitated. Was this wise?
But then again, what about his journey had been wise?
He descended slowly, each step echoing in the suffocating silence.
After ten steps, the light revealed a hallway—walls lined with more glyphs and crude paintings. Monsters. Humans. Chains. Flames. Blood.
A story of war?
Of imprisonment?
Or prophecy?
Halfway down the hall, Rey noticed something disturbing—scratches along the walls, like claws had raked the stone in desperation.
Whatever was once down here… didn't want to be.
And perhaps… it still didn't.
At the end of the passage stood another door, this one marked with the same spiral symbol but cracked down the middle.
Rey placed a hand on the stone, and the door responded—not with movement, but with heat.
A pulse.
Like a heartbeat.
Something alive was beyond it.
Something waiting.
Rey didn't push forward. Not yet.
He'd seen enough for one day.
As he turned back and climbed out, the ground around the ridge had darkened.
Clouds swirled above.
Something had changed.
As he walked back toward his cave, Rey didn't realize it yet, but his digging had awakened more than just old stone.
Something ancient had heard him.
And it remembered the scent of human blood.
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