Chapter 3

I blink, but it’s hard to tell if my eyes are even open. Everything around me is dark, a heavy blackness that presses against me like the walls are closing in. I try to move, but my limbs feel stiff, like I’ve been lying here for ages, forgotten.

My skin brushes against something cold and rough, stone maybe, or something harder. I don’t know how I got here. I don’t know… anything.

A hollow emptiness buzzes in my head, like I’m supposed to remember something, but all I get is silence. The absence of thought is so loud, it almost hurts. I squeeze my eyes shut—maybe to think, maybe to feel—and force myself to sit up. My hands tremble as I push myself upright. The floor beneath me is freezing, uneven, and the air smells damp, old.

There’s no sound. Not even a drip of water.

Where… where am I?

I don’t know the answer. The question feels wrong, like I shouldn’t be asking it, like I should know. But I don’t. I can’t. My heart starts to race, an unfamiliar fear crawling into my chest. I try to call out, but when I open my mouth, no words come. Just a sharp inhale, shaky and broken.

I touch my face, my arms, trying to make sense of the shape of me. I feel… small, fragile. There’s a tug at the edge of my mind, a shadow of something I should recognize about myself, but it slips away before I can grab hold of it.

I pull my knees to my chest, curling into a ball, as if shrinking will help me disappear into this nothingness. But I’m still here. I can’t remember why, or how, or who I am, but I’m still here.

A sound—soft, almost like a whisper—drifts through the darkness. It makes my breath catch. I’m not alone.

“Hello?” My voice comes out hoarse, strange, unfamiliar as if it doesn’t belong to me.

No one answers. I bite my lip and slowly, carefully, stand. My legs wobble, weak beneath me, and I take a shaky step forward. The whispering sound comes again, but this time it’s further away. My feet brush against something—loose gravel, maybe—and I fumble forward.

Step after step, I feel the space around me, fingers trailing along cold, rough surfaces. My heart pounds in my chest as I search for a way out, even if I’m not sure what waits for me on the other side. I just know I can’t stay here, wherever here is.

My feet scrape against the uneven ground, each step heavy, each breath shallow as I push through the narrow tunnel. The walls press in, rough stone brushing against my fingertips, guiding me forward.

That whisper—it lingers in the air, more like a presence than a sound, something just out of reach. It swirls around me, pulling me deeper into the darkness. I try to listen, to make sense of it, but it slips through my thoughts like an untethered ghost.

There’s no light, only the cold stone beneath my bare feet and the distant tug of air ahead. It feels like the world has shrunk into this one thin path, and I have no choice but to follow. The cold wind hits me, sharp and sudden, cutting through the suffocating silence. My skin prickles as I realize there’s something up ahead, something vast and unknown.

I keep moving, but my steps are hesitant now. The ground slopes downward, uneven and treacherous, and the air feels different—thinner, like I’m nearing the edge of something I can’t see. My heart beats faster, the whisper still pulling me forward. And then—

I feel it.

My foot slips, the ground beneath me dropping away too suddenly. Out of instinct, I jerk backward, a startled gasp escaping my lips as my body hit the ground hard, the shock of cold stone jolting through me as I land on my backside, my palms scraping against the rough surface.

I breathe out shakily, my chest heaving as I peer into the black void before me, trying to see what nearly swallowed me whole. But it’s nothing. Just… nothing. An abyss stretches out below me, so deep, so endless that I can’t even begin to understand what’s down there. The whisper is gone now, leaving only the soft whistle of the wind rising from the pit.

I crawl backward, away from the edge, my fingers trembling as they scrape against the ground. My heart thunders in my ears, pounding with the realization of how close I came to falling. There’s a hollow pit in my stomach, like I’ve just looked death in the eye.

I want to turn back, to flee from this darkness, but I don’t know where I came from. And something… something in me knows there’s no going back.

So I sit there for a moment, my breath uneven, the cold air swirling around me. The pit yawns before me, silent and endless, a chasm of nothingness. I pull my knees to my chest, staring into the dark, wondering what lies beyond and why I feel like I’ve been running from something I can’t even remember.

I can’t stay here.

The thought sinks deep into me, heavier than the darkness around me. My breath comes out shaky, and my hands are cold, but I force myself to move. Slowly, I push up from the ground, my legs trembling beneath me as I stand. The pit looms before me, the emptiness yawning wide and deep, but there’s something else now. Something I hadn’t seen before.

Ledges.

They jut out from the sides of the pit, uneven, jagged outcroppings of rock that descend into the black abyss. I inch closer, my back pressed against the cold stone wall for balance, every inch of me trembling. The wind rises from the pit, slapping against my face, sharp and relentless, forcing me to squint. It’s not just air—it feels alive, almost like it’s pushing me back, warning me to turn away.

But I can’t. I know that now. There’s no other way out.

The ledges are far apart, some barely wide enough to stand on. My heart pounds as I lean forward to peer down. They lead deeper, vanishing into the shadows below, and with them, the faintest sense of hope. The wind... it has to be coming from somewhere, from some opening down there, beyond the darkness. Maybe there’s an exit, a way to escape whatever nightmare I’ve woken up into.

I don’t want to do this. Every part of me screams to turn back, to run. But where would I go? The tunnel? The whispering?

I swallow hard, feeling the dryness in my throat as I cling to the wall, my fingers brushing the cold, rough stone for assurance. Inch by inch, I move closer to the pit, my breath ragged and uneven, my mind racing. It’s absurd. Climbing down this... thing. But the absurdity is drowned out by something stronger—a cold certainty. I have no choice.

I take a deep breath, steadying myself as I look down again. The first ledge isn’t far, but it’s enough to make my stomach churn. If I fall... No. I push that thought away, force it deep down where it can’t get to me. I have to make it.

The wind roars again, howling up from the depths, but this time I don’t let it shake me. My foot edges forward, carefully, tentatively. My toes find the edge, my heart beating wildly in my chest. With a trembling hand, I grip the nearest wall jutting out beside me, lowering myself toward the ledge. My muscles strain, and for a moment, my fingers slip. My breath catches, and panic surges, but then I find it—the ledge beneath my feet. Solid. Cold.

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I’m standing now, staring down into the pit as the ledge crumbles slightly under my weight. There’s another ledge below. Just as small, just as precarious. I shift my weight, looking for the next place to jump, my mind racing with all the ways this could go wrong. But I can’t let fear stop me. I take another breath, this one deeper, grounding myself.

Then I leap.

It’s a small drop, but my feet hit hard, and for a second, I wobble, nearly losing my balance. My fingers claw at the stone to steady myself, my breath coming fast. The whisper... it’s gone now, replaced by the low howl of the wind. But something lingers in the silence. A presence, watching, waiting.

I look down again, searching for the next ledge. Another drop. Deeper this time. The darkness is closing in, thicker with each descent. I don’t know how far it goes, or what waits below, but I know I have to keep going.

So I jump again. And again.

Each ledge takes me further into the pit, the wind growing colder, sharper, as if urging me onward. My legs ache, my hands bleed from gripping the jagged stone, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop. Something waits down there, something I need to find.

Suddenly a clinking sound cut through the silence, sharp and distinct—something real, something tangible in the void of this endless descent.

My heart skips a beat, excitement flaring up in my chest. Finally, something different. Something alive. I quicken my pace, almost forgetting the danger below as I leap from ledge to ledge, the cold wind biting at my skin. The metallic clinks grow louder, more frequent, spurring me forward with an anxious thrill that pushes aside the constant dread.

I land on another ledge, my foot slipping as loose gravel scatters beneath me. My breath catches, and I lurch forward, arms flailing as I teeter on the edge. For a heartbeat, I feel weightless, the abyss yawning below me, ready to swallow me whole. But somehow, my fingers grip the rough stone just in time, pulling me back to safety. My chest heaves, the panic settling in my bones.

That was close... too close.

I force myself to calm down, breathing deeply, steadying the tremor in my hands. I can’t let myself get carried away. Not here. Not when the fall could be the end. I take a moment, feeling my pulse slow, and then I glance down.

There—beneath me, further down the pit.

A dark shape, moving slowly in circles, its form almost blending with the surrounding shadows. It’s large, much larger than I expected, but the distance makes it hard to make out. The clinking sound echoes again as it moves—metal on stone. Chains, maybe? I can’t tell. My mind races, trying to make sense of it.

What is that thing? Is it trapped? Chained? The sound is familiar, comforting in its difference from the endless, hollow silence. Maybe... maybe it’s someone like me.

I lean closer, squinting through the darkness, but the shadows are too thick to see clearly. My voice feels stuck in my throat, hesitant, but I have to know. I have to reach out. Maybe they know a way out of this place. Maybe they’re waiting for someone.

“H-Hello?” I call out, my voice cracking slightly, hoarse from the cold.

The figure stops. Instantly. The clinking, the circling—it all ceases, as if frozen in place. My breath catches. The silence returns, thicker than ever, pressing down on me with the weight of a thousand unanswered questions. Why didn’t it respond? What is it doing?

I wait, heart hammering in my chest, staring down at the dark shape. Nothing. No movement. No sound. Just stillness. My stomach twists, unease curling around my spine.

Did it hear me?

I open my mouth to call out again, but before I can speak, a sound erupts from the pit below.

A vicious, guttural growl, deep and resonant, cuts through the air. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever heard before—a sound filled with raw malice, primal and savage. It rises from the depths, crawling into my bones, sending a violent shudder through my entire body.

The sound growls again, louder this time, filled with anger, with hunger.

The pit isn’t empty. The figure isn’t trapped.

It’s hunting.

My blood turns cold, every instinct screaming at me to back away, to run. My knees buckle, but I don’t dare move. The growl continues, vibrating through the stone beneath me, shaking the air itself. Whatever is down there, it’s alive. And it’s dangerous.

My breath comes out in ragged gasps as I press my back against the wall, trying to become as small as possible, my mind racing. I stare down into the pit, my heart pounding in my ears. The dark figure has stopped moving, but the growl remains, a low rumble that refuses to fade.

I can’t see it clearly, but I can feel it watching me now, its presence heavy, suffocating. It’s waiting.

Waiting for me to make a mistake.

I clench my fists, trying to steady my shaking hands. The ledges feel too narrow, too precarious. One wrong move, and I’ll fall—straight into its waiting jaws. I force myself to breathe, the air cold and sharp in my lungs.

The minutes stretch out, each one thick with the sound of my own breathing. I press myself harder against the stone wall, willing it to swallow me whole. The pit is still except for the faint rustling of the wind, but down below, the figure starts to move again.

The metallic clinks echo, but there’s something different about its steps this time. Before, it was wandering aimlessly. Now, it paces, deliberate, like it’s... waiting.

For me.

Panic claws at my throat. Every instinct screams for me to go back, to scramble up the ledges, to flee from whatever this thing is. But I know better. There’s nothing up there but darkness and the whisper that led me here.

The tunnel. The cold emptiness. It’s all behind me now. This—whatever waits below—it’s my only way forward. The pit holds something, and deep down, I know there’s no turning back.

I try to tell myself it might not be dangerous. Maybe I was wrong, maybe it’s just scared like I am. I cling to that thought, desperate. But then I hear it again—the low, steady growl rumbling from the depths. The kind that curls into your bones and stays there, gnawing at you from within.

My stomach growls in return, the hunger gnawing just as fiercely. My mouth is dry, my lips cracked from thirst. The edges of my thoughts blur, the exhaustion setting in. I don’t know how long I’ve been here. Hours? Days? My body aches, worn from the endless descent, but now—now I have to keep moving. There’s no choice.

I peer over the ledge, my eyes straining in the dim light, and the shape below becomes clearer. As it moves, I see it more clearly—massive, hulking. A beast. My breath catches. Its fur is black, darker than the shadows, rippling with power as it circles below, each step slow and deliberate.

And the clinking sound? Chains. Thick iron chains wrapped around its legs, binding it to the pit. But even with the chains, it moves like it could tear this place apart if it wanted to.

A wolf. Enormous, larger than any creature I’ve ever seen, pacing in slow, agonizing circles. Its head is low, its snout barely grazing the ground, and then I see its eyes—or rather, the absence of them. They’re shut tight, the lids unmoving, as though sealed by some curse or binding.

Is it blind?

I don’t know if that makes it better or worse.

My gaze drifts up to its neck, and that’s when I see it. A key. Dangling from a string around the beast’s thick neck, gleaming faintly in the dim light. My heart lurches. I look up, and there, just visible on the side of the pit, is a locked gate. It’s small, but unmistakable, its bars barely visible in the darkness.

That must be the exit. My way out.

I swallow hard, my throat dry and tight. The key. The wolf has the key.

Despair washes over me. I feel it like a weight in my chest, dragging me down. Of all the things that could stand between me and escape, it has to be this. I can’t believe it. I stare down at the wolf again, its eyes closed, pacing, waiting. For me. The wind stirs again, cold against my skin, but I barely feel it. All I can think about is the key. The gate.

And the beast standing between them.

I don’t know what to do. My mind races, desperate for a solution, but nothing comes. I’m starving, I’m thirsty, and I’m trapped. If I don’t get that key, I’ll never make it out of here. But to get it... I’d have to go near that thing. Close enough to touch it. Close enough to be caught by it.

I take a shaky breath, my eyes darting between the wolf and the gate. There has to be a way. I don’t have the strength to climb back up. I can’t stay here forever, waiting for hunger to take me. There’s no choice.

I have to go down. I have to face it.

The thought sends a shiver down my spine, but I push it aside. My legs feel weak, but I steady myself, inching toward the next ledge. My heart pounds in my ears, each beat a hammer strike, but I focus on the task at hand. Down. Just a little further.

I move slowly, carefully, watching the wolf as I descend. It’s still circling, still growling, its chains rattling with every step. But its eyes stay closed, and for a moment, hope flickers inside me. Maybe... just maybe, it won’t see me. Maybe I can take the key before it realizes I’m there.

But even as I think it, I feel the cold, sinking dread creeping in.

I’m getting closer now. The ledge I stand on is barely above the wolf’s height, and from here, I can see the muscles rippling beneath its fur, the power coiled in its limbs. The key gleams faintly from the string around its neck, so close yet so impossibly far.

I stare at the key, my heart thudding in my chest, and then back at the gate.

I have to do this.