The faces whispered long after they left the cavern.
Elara could still feel them, hundreds of stone mouths exhaling against her skin, whispering the same word over and over: Downward. She pressed her hand against her chest, as if she could smother the sound. But it lived in her bones.
Tomas kept close, torch in one hand, sword in the other. His jaw was clenched, his eyes scanning the darkness ahead. He hadn't said a word since Aldric's appearance. She knew why. He feared speaking aloud might draw the priest back.
The tunnel sloped steeper. The floor slickened with a thin film of water, reflecting faint light that was not theirs. At first Elara thought it was moss again, but then she saw: the walls ahead glowed faintly red, pulsing in rhythm with her heartbeat.
The stone itself throbbed.
"It's alive," she whispered.
Tomas didn't answer, but his grip on her wrist tightened.
A voice drifted up the tunnel. Low. Broken.
"Elara… Tomas…"
They froze.
It was Anselm.
His voice was raw, shredded by pain, but it was his. Elara pushed past Tomas, her torch throwing frantic light forward.
Anselm was there, slumped against the wall, blood painting his chest. His hammer was gone, his hands torn raw, his breaths shallow.
"Elara," he rasped, looking up at her. His eyes were dim, but they held stubborn fire. "Don't… don't go further."
Her throat tightened. "We thought—"
"Dead?" He forced a cracked grin. "Not yet. But close enough."
Tomas crouched beside him, scanning his wounds. "What did this?"
Anselm's gaze drifted upward. "Shadows. But not just them. The priest. He—he commands them now. Like hounds."
Elara's stomach twisted. Aldric.
Anselm coughed, blood spattering his beard. "He's gone, girl. Whatever he saw in that river… it took him." His hand groped blindly until it found hers. His grip was iron, even dying. "Listen to me. You can't trust him. You can't trust the Hour. The chains—"
His body convulsed.
The whispers grew louder, seeping from the stone itself, drowning his words.
Tomas swore, pulling Elara back. "We need to move. Now."
"No!" She fought his grip. "He's still alive—"
And then she saw.
Anselm's chest shifted. Not with breath. With something beneath his skin. His ribs swelled, cracked. His mouth opened in a silent scream as a spiral carved itself across his chest from the inside out.
"Elara," he begged. "End it."
Tomas didn't hesitate. He drove his sword through the old man's heart.
The whispers cut off in a single breath.
Only silence remained.
They stumbled onward, Elara shaking, tears burning her face. The tunnel widened into another cavern.
And froze them both in place.
It was a cathedral of stone.
Pillars rose like ribs into the black vault above. Stalactites dripped blood-red water into a central basin that glowed faintly. And upon the far wall, carved in a single unbroken spiral that stretched floor to ceiling, was the eighth chain.
Not iron. Not forged.
A spiral of bone.
Thousands of skulls, jawbones, ribs, and spines fused together, curving downward into a pit that vanished into darkness.
Elara staggered forward, torch trembling. The bones were fresh. Many still had scraps of flesh. Some skulls bore symbols etched into their brows.
Tomas gagged, pulling her back. "We're leaving. Now."
But she couldn't.
The spiral pulled her. The key burned in her palm, and with every step closer the bones seemed to breathe.
"Elara."
She froze.
The voice came from the spiral itself. From the mouths of the skulls, speaking together in one endless murmur.
Elara. Keeper. Anchor.
She dropped the torch. The cavern filled with red glow, as though the bones themselves had caught fire.
Tomas dragged her back. "Don't listen!"
But it was too late.
The spiral shuddered.
And Aldric stepped from its depths.
He was no longer fully human. His face was pale, stretched, his eyes bottomless pits glowing faintly red. His chest rose and fell in rhythm with the bones behind him. Chains of blood and shadow hung from his shoulders like vestments.
He smiled, his teeth too sharp. "You see now, don't you? The truth of the Hour. This is not death. This is eternity."
Elara's body shook. "Aldric…"
He spread his arms wide, the spiral pulsing behind him. "Join me. Be what you were meant to be. The eighth anchor. The river will flow through you, and you will never be forgotten."
Tomas stepped between them, sword raised. "Over my body."
Aldric's smile widened. "So be it."
The spiral screamed.
Shadows poured into the cavern, claws and jaws snapping, eyes burning white.
Tomas roared, blade flashing. Elara screamed, clutching the key as the spiral's pull nearly tore her from his side.
The Hour was no longer silent.
It was awake.
The shadows came in silence.
At first, they looked like nothing more than the familiar flicker of torchlight bending along stone. Then the light guttered, and the darkness stepped forward.
They were no longer wolves, no longer beasts. Their shapes had thickened, grown. Some had hands, claws long as knives. Others crawled on too many legs. Their white eyes burned brighter than fire, unblinking, fixed only on Elara.
Aldric raised his hand, and they froze at the cavern's edge, trembling as though leashed.
"Elara," he said again, his voice echoing from skull to skull. "Why fight what you already feel? The key burns you because it wants release. The spiral sings because it knows its keeper. Do not let the boy blind you."
Tomas spat blood and raised his blade higher. "I'm not blinding her. I'm keeping her human."
Aldric's laughter rolled like thunder against bone. "Human?" He spread his arms, shadows writhing behind him. "Do you not see what chains make of us? They are prisons. I am free."
Elara's chest tightened. The spiral pulled at her, every bone whispering her name. Her grip on the key shook.
She wanted to move toward it.
She wanted to let go.
"No!" Tomas seized her shoulders, forcing her gaze onto his. His eyes burned—not with hunger, not with visions, but with stubborn fire. "Elara, you're not a chain. You're more. Don't you dare listen to him."
Aldric's smile thinned. "He will not die for you gladly, girl. Not twice."
The words struck like knives. Tomas stiffened, his jaw tightening. He didn't look away, but Elara felt his grip falter.
Aldric saw it too. He chuckled, tilting his head. "He never told you? The Hour claimed him once already. He belongs to it as much as I."
Elara's breath caught. "Tomas—"
"Don't listen!" His voice cracked, but his eyes stayed locked on hers. "Whatever he says—it's poison."
Aldric raised his arms, and the spiral flared crimson.
The shadows surged.
They struck like a tide.
Tomas swung wide, his blade cutting through two at once. They dissolved into smoke, only for three more to leap from the walls. He shoved Elara back, roaring, the sound of steel and claw echoing off stone.
Elara stumbled, the key burning hotter. The spiral's pull became unbearable, dragging her toward the pit. She clawed at the ground, her nails tearing, but the bones beneath her seemed to writhe, skulls opening their mouths wider, whispering louder.
Anchor. Anchor. Anchor.
A clawed shadow slammed into Tomas, hurling him against the bone wall. He spat blood, rolling to his feet, blade raised again.
"Elara! Run!"
She couldn't. Her body wouldn't move away from the spiral. It had her.
Aldric stepped closer, his form glowing with the red light. He looked almost radiant, like an angel painted in blood.
"Look at him," he whispered. "Dying for nothing. He will not survive this Hour. But you—you can end it. One step. One choice. The river is yours."
Elara shook, tears blurring her sight. Tomas roared again, hacking through another shadow, his arms trembling with exhaustion. He would not last.
She raised the key.
The cavern went still. Even the shadows froze, eyes fixed on her.
The spiral pulsed.
The skulls opened their mouths in unison, chanting: Keeper. Anchor. Keeper. Anchor.
Her heart slammed against her ribs. She could end it. She could stop the hunger. She could stop the Silent Hour.
But at what cost?
Her grandmother's voice whispered inside her skull, thin and sharp as glass: Seal it and lose yourself. Break it and lose them.
Elara screamed.
The spiral screamed back.
And the shadows rushed in.