River stared at the dark passage, his breath slow and measured. The stone walls were rough and uneven, their surfaces seemingly worn down by time. Strange grooves ran down along them, some shallow, others deep enough that shadows pooled inside them, making it impossible to tell if they were just cracks or carved deliberately. The air that drifted out was thick and damp, carrying a faint scent of salt and something stale like a place long forgotten.
He swallowed hesitantly, summoning Viper's Lament as he turned his gaze back to the storm outside. The sea was nothing but a churning abyss, its waves rising and crashing against the cliffside in a chaos of foam and black water. The rain lashed down in sheets, the wind howling as if enraged by his escape.
Neither path was welcoming. Behind him, the storm raged on, a ceaseless, howling force that would swallow him whole without hesitation. The other...consisted of something unknown. River wasn't sure which was worse. But the longer he stared into the passageway, the more it felt like it was calling to him—beckoning him forward as if it had been waiting for him all along.
"I'm not that dumb, right?" River said, his voice barely rising above the storm's fury. He shifted his weight, the pressure of the choice heavy on his chest. Still, something about it pulled at him, like a whisper at the back of his mind that refused to be ignored.
He tightened his grip on Viper's Lament, feeling its familiar weight, but the sword offered little comfort. "...fuck it." With one last look at the storm outside, he took a step into the passage and allowed the shadows to swallow him whole.
***
As the passage drew River deeper into the cliff, he ran his fingers along the rough stone, tracing the strange markings carved into its surface. The vague images from his Seismic Sense, combined with the texture beneath his touch, left little doubt—they were intentional. There was a clear pattern to them, something too precise to be accidental. It was as if the same three words had been etched into the walls over and over again, stretching endlessly into the dark.
'Runic language?' River felt that the markings were oddly familiar, but the darkness made it difficult to be sure. Seismic Sense revealed the broader shapes, such as the way the carvings repeated or resembled runes. But it wasn't precise enough to capture the finer details, meaning that whatever significance they held remained just out of reach, hidden within the stone.
Pushing the runes to the back of his mind, he focused on the path ahead. From what River could tell, it descended in the shape of a circle, winding deeper into the heart of the cliff. It would have been a bit difficult to navigate without relying on the vibrations beneath his feet to sense his way through the darkness.
The sensation was uncomfortable when he first received it, foreign and disorienting. But it gradually grew on River, slowly transforming into a lifeline. Each vibration became something he leaned on, a tether that kept him grounded in the pitch-black void, helping him move forward with a sense of purpose.
'How much longer does this thing go on for?' River thought, irritation creeping into his mind. It felt like he'd been walking down the path for what could've been five, maybe ten minutes—though it was hard to tell in the oppressive silence and darkness.
Just as he thought the path would stretch on forever, the stone beneath his feet began to level out forming a straight path into the darkness. River couldn't help but feel a bit unnerved by the uncertainty of whatever lay ahead, moving forward with a sense of hesitance. Until suddenly, the narrow passage widened, opening up into a massive chamber.
As River's foot landed inside the chamber, a faint bioluminescent glow began to pulse from small spots in the walls, illuminating the space in an eerie, otherworldly light. And as River's eyes adjusted to the strange light, the sight that unfolded before him was a hidden outpost carved into the cavern walls.
The lower level had been turned into a storage and living space, with stacked supplies and worn-out bedding arranged against the rough stone. There was a set of stairs leading down to what looked like a more fortified section, its entrance obscured in shadow. The walls themselves bore the scars of time, jagged and uneven, with stalactites hanging from the ceiling like the fangs of a beast.
To the left, a cluster of tables and chairs was haphazardly arranged near wooden barrels and crates, signs of habitation evident in scattered tools, papers, and the remnants of trash. Further along, a few easels stood. Their canvases draped with tattered cloths, revealing only vague, distorted shapes that seemed to shift in the dim light.
To the right, a large hearth sat cold and abandoned, the remnants of a once-roaring fire scattered across the stone floor. Rusted weapons lined the walls, their dulled edges whispering of forgotten battles. Nearby, a narrow passage led deeper into the rock. Its entrance was barely visible, hidden by a series of hanging ropes and curtains of frayed fabric.
Then River's gaze drifted upward, and his breath caught. Every instinct screamed at him to look away. But the sight held him captive, dread pooling in his gut.
'What… the hell…?'
Above him, a rocky ledge jutted out, connected to the ground by a ladder. At the highest point of the chamber, a lone figure hung from a crude wooden frame. Its body was pierced with countless weapons, some River had never even seen before. Its form was shrouded in shadows, the light seeming to recoil from them, casting a vile, almost blasphemous glow that made the sight all the more unnerving.
The figure's body was thin and unnaturally stretched. Long strands of white hair hung in tangled, filthy knots draped over its hollowed-out face. The tattered fabric clung loosely to its decayed frame, barely concealing flesh marred by gaping wounds that had never healed. Some of the cuts were so deep that they exposed bone, yet no blood leaked from the mutilated corpse. The human-like corpse was nothing short of haunting, a sight that would cause fear in even the most experienced Awakened.
"Ugly bastard…" River quietly muttered, doing his best to ignore the fear soaking into every inch of his body.
And then, as if responding to his gaze, the figure shifted.
At first, it was imperceptible—just the slightest twitch in one of its limbs. It was such a small movement that River would have almost missed it if it wasn't for the slight creaking noise that accompanied it, like old wood straining under pressure.
'Did… did it just move?' River attempted to rationalize what he was seeing in front of him, refusing to believe that the creature had actually moved. Until it twitched again and then again without stopping. Each jerk was unnatural, spasmodic, like something forcing life into dead limbs. The convulsions built-in frantic succession—until they didn't. The creature stilled, and silence swallowed the room.
And then, slowly, its head tilted toward him with black lifeless eyes. The motion was so gradual and deliberate that River felt his own heartbeat stall as if the world itself had slowed around him. The figure's gaze locked onto him, its eyes hollow and void of any light. And for a moment, there was nothing else in the world—just the oppressive weight of its eyes.
It felt like almost an eternity passed until—without warning—the figure's jaw wrenched open with a sickening crack. The sound was sharp, brittle, like shattered bone grinding against itself. But no breath came from its mouth, no whisper of life. It was empty.
The silence in the chamber deepened, growing so thick it felt tangible, pressing down on River's skin like an unseen force. He couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Every part of him screamed to look away, but the weight of those lifeless eyes held him in place, locking him in a silent, suffocating stare.
Then—click.
The sound was so precise that it sent an icy spear through River's gut. The fingers on the figure's right hand had moved. Just slightly. Just enough to press against the handle of a rusted dagger buried in its own leg.
Click. Click.
One by one, its fingers twitched, flexing against the hilt, testing it like it was waking up from some long, agonizing sleep. And then, ever so slowly, it began to pull.
The motion wasn't smooth. The figure trembled as it tore the blade from its body, the steel dragging against bone with a wet, scraping sound. Dropping the dagger, it began to pull another one out, the weapon straining against flesh that should have been long dead.
River felt his stomach lurch.
The thing was waking up.
And it was trying to free itself.
River swallowed hard, his throat dry. He needed to move. Now.
Without another thought, River bolted toward the ladder, his pulse hammering in his ears. He could hear the weapons rattling behind him, the sickening stretch of something straining against its own restraints. It wouldn't be long before it tore itself loose.
And if it did, River knew—he would be the first thing it came for.
His hands gripped the rungs, body moving on instinct as he climbed, each motion fueled by the gnawing dread clawing at his spine. Behind him, the grotesque symphony of metal scraping against flesh and bone grew louder, more frantic.
Click. Click. Click.
River gritted his teeth. 'I have to kill it. Now.'
He reached the top just as the sound of tearing flesh and clattering steel reached a fever pitch below. He swung himself onto the ledge, rolling to his feet in a single, fluid motion. His breath was shallow, his heartbeat thunderous. The figure still hung there, twitching, its body writhing against the wooden frame like a marionette tangled in its own strings.
Without hesitation, River surged forward, Viper's Lament flashing in his grip. He didn't give it time to move, didn't let himself hesitate. The moment he was close enough, he drove the blade straight into the figure's chest.
The impact jolted up his arm.
River's eyes widened. The blade hadn't pierced. It hadn't even scratched. The steel met its flesh—and simply stopped as though striking solid stone.
Before he could react, the figure twitched violently. Then, in a single, jerking motion, its head snapped to look at him. Black, empty eyes bored into his own, closer now, impossibly close.
River's breath hitched. He yanked his weapon back on instinct and staggered a step away. The place where his blade had struck remained untouched—smooth, unbroken.
The figure didn't react as if attacked. Instead, slowly, its lips began to curl upwards into a grotesque mockery of a grin.
With a sound like tearing sinew, the figure's body convulsed. The weapons embedded in its flesh rattled violently, straining against the grotesque prison that had kept it bound. River barely had time to take another step back before the wooden frame let out a deep, splintering crack.
Then—snap.
The entire structure collapsed.
The sound was deafening. Wood shattered, steel clattered against the stone floor, and the figure fell. But it didn't crumple, didn't slump like a corpse freed from its bindings.
It landed on its feet.
The impact sent a dull, resonant thud through the chamber. The figure remained hunched, motionless, its grotesque, thin frame rigid as if adjusting to its newfound freedom.
River froze as it lifted its head towards him.
Slowly, mechanically, it straightened. The weight of its gaze pinned him in place. But this time, it was different. This time, it spoke.
"...not yet… "The words crawled from its throat, uneven and broken, as if spoken through a mouth that had forgotten how to form speech.
River could feel the words like a physical presence, crawling up his spine, a coldness spreading through his veins as if each syllable reached into his very soul.
"...not yet… not yet…" It whispered again, so softly that the words felt like they were inside his mind, crawling beneath his skin.
For a moment, the figure's gaze seemed to shift as if it were listening to something only it could hear. A deep, hollow pause hung in the air.
"...it… is not… time yet…" The words hung there, thick with an eerie finality. River could feel them sinking into his thoughts, tugging at his sanity, as if the voice had slithered into the cracks of his mind where even fear didn't belong.
And then, it took a step forward.