The silence shattered.
The iron gate yawned open with a sound like tearing sinew. Darkness bled into the chamber, thick and heavy. The survivors stiffened as one, exhaustion forgotten, gazes snapping to the maw of stone that led deeper.
Chains dropped from the ceiling, writhing like serpents, their hooks biting into the flagstones. They coiled and lashed, forcing the eight survivors to their feet. No one resisted. Resistance only meant death.
The Overseer's mask reappeared, swaying gently in the gloom. Its voice was velvet stretched over razors.
"You think yourselves wary. Clever. You think suspicion will save you." The mask tilted, smile widening by an inch. "But can your mistrust stand when the Hollow demands unity? When you must fight beside those you despise—or be broken together?"
A grinding sound thundered from the tunnel beyond. A pulse of heat, metallic and fetid, rolled into the chamber. Something massive stirred.
The chains lashed outward, binding the survivors' wrists together in pairs. Gasps and curses filled the chamber.
Draven glanced down at the cold bite of steel encircling his wrist. His partner was Yorin—the trembling, faith-riddled Bellhound whose hands still shook from the illusions. A liability. A burden. But also… a shield.
Seraphine had been bound to the scorched Bellhound boy. Her laughter rang like bells as she tugged the chain taut between them, delighting in his horror.
The Silent Veil girl was shackled to Gorath. The giant snarled, the chain taut between them like a leash on a beast, while the pale girl only smirked, as if already plotting how to gut him when his guard slipped.
The last two survivors—minor disciples from forgotten sects, nameless and brittle-eyed—were bound together as well, their fear palpable.
The Overseer's mask tilted once more. "A chained beast awaits. Its heart cannot be stilled by one blade alone. Cooperate, or die screaming."
Then the mask withdrew into darkness. The chains yanked the survivors forward, dragging them into the tunnel whether their feet moved or not.
The corridor twisted, air thick with rust and wet heat. The survivors stumbled, half-dragged, half-running. Every link in the chain echoed like the clattering of bones.
They emerged into a cavern vast enough to swallow the sect's fortress whole. The floor was slick with black ichor. At the center, a colossal creature stirred—a beast of living iron and flesh, scales fused with steel, its eyes molten pits. Chains already bound its limbs, gouged deep into muscle, but the bindings rattled as it thrashed, eager to rend.
The Overseer's voice thundered through the cavern.
"Slay it. Together. Or none of you leave."
The beast roared. The cavern shook.
Gorath bellowed a war-cry, dragging the Silent Veil girl with him as he charged forward. His axe ignited with crimson light, every swing reverberating with sheer force. The pale girl moved with him, shadow-stepping in his wake, her dagger sliding between armored scales where his blows cracked them open.
Seraphine skipped to the side, chain tugging her unwilling partner. "Come now, little Bellhound, don't falter! If you drag me down, I'll carve your throat myself before the beast gets the chance." Her laugh rang out as her dagger flashed, striking between the armored ridges of the beast's leg.
The scorched Bellhound boy cursed, struggling to keep up. His blade struck sparks against steel hide, useless, but Seraphine moved them both like a puppeteer guiding a doll.
Draven felt Yorin's trembling through the chain. The Bellhound's knees shook, his eyes fixed on the beast with terror.
"Listen," Draven whispered, voice low, calm, precise. "Your sect chants of chains binding, chains guiding. Then be the chain. Anchor me. Hold steady. Do not falter, no matter the fear."
Yorin's lips quivered. "I… I—"
"Now." Draven pulled him forward. The pair darted toward the beast's flank, avoiding the thunder of its claws. Draven's eyes burned with calculation, every movement measured: Seraphine was testing her partner. Gorath was brute-forcing through rage. The Silent Veil girl was waiting for betrayal. All threads tangled, but the beast's fury cut them equal.
The nameless disciples screamed as the monster's tail whipped across the cavern. One was flung against the wall, his skull cracking like pottery. The other fell to his knees, blood pouring from his mouth, chain clattering useless beside him.
"Seven remain," Draven murmured under his breath.
The beast reared back, inhaling deep. The air ignited as molten fire swelled in its chest.
Draven yanked Yorin forward, dragging him into the shadow of a broken stalagmite. "Now! Chant, fool! Bind its flame!"
Yorin's voice broke, but the words came—ancient Bellhound rites of binding. His voice grew steadier as the chains across the cavern trembled, reacting to his faith. For the first time, the shaking ceased, and his hands moved with purpose rather than fear.
The beast exhaled fire, but the chains across its body pulsed, constraining its lungs. The blast was weakened, searing across the cavern but not annihilating them outright.
Draven's lips curved in the faintest smile. "Better. Do that again, and you'll live another hour."
Seraphine's laughter rang louder as she danced along the beast's shoulder. Gorath roared, hacking into its leg with bone-shattering strength. The Silent Veil girl twisted her dagger into the creature's eye, black ichor spraying in a fountain.
The cavern trembled as the beast staggered, shrieking. Chains tightened, rattling like applause.
The Overseer's voice returned, dripping with cruel delight.
"Yes. Bleed together. Betray later. The Hollow thrives on both."
The beast thrashed again, knocking Seraphine and her partner sprawling. Gorath was nearly crushed under a claw, only to be yanked back by the Silent Veil girl, the chain between them taut and cutting into their flesh.
Every survivor screamed, fought, endured.
Draven watched, always calculating. This is not about the beast. It is about the chain. Who adapts? Who cracks? Who learns that unity is only a mask for survival?
He tugged Yorin again. "Now. Bind its heart."
The Bellhound's chant rose. Chains around the beast's chest constricted. Its movements slowed. Its fire guttered. For one fleeting moment, weakness showed.
Draven struck, blade sinking deep into exposed flesh.
The beast screamed—and the cavern screamed with it.