The outpost was no more than a hollowed niche in the side of the ancient trunk, a narrow space furnished with hooks for hammocks, a rainwater tank, and a modest kitchen that hadn’t seen real use in years. Dust clung to every surface like it had taken vows.
Jaxon roused them with a growl and a nudge, the way soldiers wake others when the night is still listening. “Time,” he said.
Korr groaned, rubbing his eyes as he half-fell from the hammock. “How long were we out?”
“Not long,” Jaxon said. “Just a nap.”
The others began rolling mats and shouldering packs, but Thalyn stayed crouched by her gear, fingers tracing the smooth curve of the sphere. She closed her eyes and reached inward.
“Want me to drive?” Arvie’s voice purred in her head, sharp with a little amusement. “Because this thing and you? Oil and water.”
Thalyn ignored the jab, recalling how it felt when the thrones in the ruins had obeyed her will. She steadied herself, forcing that same sensation into her thoughts.
A faint hum shivered through her skull. Then it bloomed: the holographic interface flared to life behind her eyes, alien symbols rearranging like a puzzle already solved. A bold option caught her attention.
She selected it without hesitation.
The sphere answered with an almost imperceptible detonation, something expanding outward, unseen but felt, as if the world exhaled. Then the interface folded into nothingness.
She looked up to find Jaxon watching her with a glint of curiosity.
“It’s back,” she said. “The aura. Should keep the Nether beasts off us.”
He nodded his approval. “Masks on. We descend now.”
Breather masks hissed as they sealed. Jaxon led them down the narrow spiral, past supply rooms long stripped bare, until they reached the reinforced hatch at the base of the trunk. He checked the seals, then swung the hatch open.
The Nether swallowed them.
Outside was a tangle of colossal roots and venomous vines, the ground lost beneath layers of slick moss and hanging growth. Their lights cut narrow cones through the fog, but the sphere’s invisible aura made the jungle unnaturally still. No skitter of claws, no flutter of wings. Only the steady rasp of their breathers.
Until a roar broke the silence.
It rolled through the undergrowth like thunder cracking a mountain, deep and layered with shrieks that struck bone. The sound seemed to travel through the roots themselves.
Korr hunched his shoulders, muttering into his mask. “That… wasn’t far.”
“No,” Thalyn said. She tightened her grip on the rifle slung at her chest. “Keep moving.”
They pushed on through the suffocating maze. Roots rose like walls, forcing detours, and vines as thick as torsos swung low, shedding drops of burning sap. Once, they skirted the black pit of a sinkhole spanned by brittle roots like the ribs of a fallen beast.
Thalyn closed her eyes briefly. The mental map glowed in her mind’s eye: Revantis loomed in pale wireframe, a labyrinth of caverns sprawled beneath it. The possible routes shimmered, some bright and broad, others dim and uncertain.
“This way,” she said, steering them toward a narrow valley between two massive trunks.
They made it halfway before spotting the cavern mouth. A single figure hunched by a boulder near the entrance.
It was a ghoul.
The thing’s limbs were long and corded, skin marbled with burns. It raised its head as they approached, nostrils flaring, and then it screamed, clutching its skull. The sound was almost human but broken. It staggered backward into the dark.
They followed.
The cavern narrowed, the air fouler still. At the first fork, Thalyn consulted the glowing map and chose the right path.
It wasn’t a clean journey.
A crumbling ledge forced them to crawl along a fissure slick with condensation, each foothold threatening collapse. Korr’s breath fogged his mask, whispering prayers between clenched teeth. One stone gave way beneath Elara’s boot, tumbling into a shaft so deep they never heard it land.
Later, they reached a flooded passage barely wide enough for a single file. Cold water filled their boots as they waded through, the ceiling pressing low, each drip echoing like a countdown. Jaxon went first, one hand skimming the ceiling, his rifle slung behind him; Thalyn followed, rifle raised, every ripple in the water a ghost of movement.
In a chamber choked with bones, animal and humanoid alike, something snarled from a side tunnel, low and massive. The sound reverberated in their lungs. They didn’t linger.
The map’s guidance wavered once, leading them into a huge chamber where jagged stone fell away into a black chasm. Backtracking cost them precious time and frayed nerves.
At one turn, a cornered Nether beast lunged from behind a barricade of fallen stone, its twisted body convulsing with terror as it hurled itself at them in blind frenzy, claws and fangs snapping at the air. They ducked and sidestepped the strikes, the beast thrashing against the stone until the tunnel shook. No one spoke as they slipped past, hearts hammering, the sound of its frenzied screeches echoing long after they’d left it behind.
Later, they found the ghoul again. Or another one. It was cornered at the edge of a stagnant pool, half-submerged, whimpering as they passed.
Finally, the walls widened into the shattered galleries of an abandoned mine. Rusted tracks vanished into the miasma, and ancient ore carts lay half-buried in silt.
Thalyn’s mental map pulsed. “Up,” she said, leading them to the open shaft of a broken lift.
The ladder was bolted to the rock. They climbed in single file, boots clanging softly. At one landing, the ladder ended in a jagged break, forcing them to swing into a side tunnel and follow it deeper into the mine. Ghouls crouched in the shadows, covering their faces as they passed.
The stairwell at the far end was intact. They ascended in silence, the air slowly thinning until they reached half a trashed storage chamber. A trapdoor barred their way upward.
Jaxon tested it. Locked.
“Options?” he asked.
Thalyn touched the hatch, already hearing Arvie stir in her head.
“Now we’re talking,” she said. “Give me a moment, and try to look like you know what you’re doing.”
A flicker of activity passed through Thalyn’s mind. The lock clicked open.
“Perk of having a chatterbox in my head,” Thalyn said as she pushed the hatch aside.
Above was an abandoned service bay, its air stale but clean. The walls were lined with tools long seized by rust.
They closed the trapdoor behind them, sealing out the toxic air. The silence that followed was almost holy.
Jaxon dropped his pack with a grunt and crossed to the other door, found it locked. He gave it a sharp tug, then turned back. “We rest here. Eat something, get your heads down. We’ll move before the city wakes.”
They unrolled mats and sleeping bags. For the first time that night, the oppressive weight of the Nether eased a fraction.
“Cozy,” Arvie murmured in Thalyn’s mind. “Almost makes you forget everything out there hates your guts.”
Thalyn lay back, listening to the rustle of sleeping bags and the soft hiss of breathers being removed, the smell of rations filling the chamber.
Something rattled faintly in the ductwork above, then skittered closer. A sharp clang echoed through the bay as if something had dropped directly onto the ceiling.
Jaxon froze, eyes flicking upward. His hand drifted to the rifle propped against the wall.
Korr swallowed. “That wasn’t just the pipes, was it?”
The duct gave one last shudder, and a furry blur dropped straight through a corroded vent.
Jaxon lunged, but the creature landed squarely in Korr’s lap. It was no larger than a loaf of bread, all damp fur and luminous eyes, squeaking indignantly as it scrabbled for footing. Korr let out a strangled yelp, arms flailing as the little thing clung to him like a drowning man.
“What in the… get it off!” Korr hissed, hopping backward.
The creature finally launched itself away, claws skittering on the floor before it vanished into a hole in the wall. For a moment, no one spoke. Then Elara’s muffled giggles broke the silence, which only made it worse. Even Jaxon’s mouth twitched as he pushed a crate in front of the hole.
Korr glared at them, his voice as flat as the floor. “I hate this place.”
The tension bled away in fits of quiet chuckling. They settled again, the oppressive silence broken now by the faint aftertaste of shared laughter.
For the first time that night, sleep didn’t feel impossible.68Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEm2QL9Aqly
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