The Tunnels Beneath
The stone corridor swallowed them whole, damp and narrow, the walls brushing Cuco's shoulders with every turn. Nox led the way, torch in hand, her silhouette flickering like a phantom ahead of him. Behind, Tariq stayed close, glancing over his shoulder every few steps. The others followed in tense silence, their breathing shallow, hurried.
Cuco's mind raced. The Hollow Ones. The Key. The Beast. None of it made sense—and yet all of it felt real. Like a truth he had always known, buried deep, just waiting to be uncovered.
"How far do these tunnels go?" he asked.
"Far enough," Nox replied. "They were built during the first breach, long before any of us were born. They're supposed to lead beyond the town's edge—but parts are sealed. Caved in. We'll have to move fast."
"Wait," said the girl in the hoodie, pausing. "Do you hear that?"
Everyone stopped.
For a moment, only the sound of dripping water.
Then—a faint, wet dragging. Like something pulling itself across stone.
Tariq swore under his breath. "They're in the tunnels."
"No, that's not them," said the boy with glasses. "That sound… it's older."
The light from Nox's torch flickered violently again, then dimmed to a weak, sputtering glow. Darkness closed in around them.
A breath—not theirs—passed through the tunnel.
And then, from the black:
"Give us the Key."
Something moved just beyond the edge of the light. Not footsteps—slithering. A shape that refused to hold still, twisting and crawling over the stone, ignoring gravity, sense, reality.
Nox stepped forward, voice sharp as a blade. "You don't belong here. The pact still holds."
A laugh. Dry and cracking like burnt paper.
"The pact is broken, daughter of ash. The Key remembers. That is enough."
Cuco's heart pounded. "Why me? What do you want from me?!"
But the creature didn't answer.
Instead, it began to hum—a fractured melody that made Cuco's vision blur.
Suddenly, the wall beside him split open—not physically, but like a thought unraveling—and a mirror appeared, rimmed in silver flame.
Nox screamed, "Don't look at it!"
Too late.
Cuco turned.
And in the glass, he saw himself—but not as he was.
He was burning, eyes hollow, mouth open in silent scream. And behind him—towering, shrouded in mist—was the Beast.
Watching.
Waiting.
Awake.
Then everything went black.