Chapter 38: Bound by Roots, Lost in Time

The recruits stumbled through the hollow of the great tree, their bodies sliding down its strange, slick roots. It was as though the earth itself was pulling them deeper and deeper, the soil around them tightening and twisting as they descended in an almost endless spiral. Abel felt the pressure of the earth closing in, squeezing him from all sides as the roots coiled around them like serpents.

For nearly ten minutes, they were dragged downward, weightless yet bound, their surroundings nothing but an all-encompassing darkness. Abel’s heart pounded, his senses overwhelmed by the claustrophobic descent, the silence deafening. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the pull stopped, and they were spat out of the earth like debris, collapsing onto the cold, wet mud below.

Abel hit the ground hard, his breath knocked out of him. The air smelled of damp rot and decay, the thick mud clinging to his robes as he struggled to his feet. Around him, the other recruits stirred, disoriented, and coated in the same filth. A strange, oppressive silence hung over the place, broken only by the sound of their labored breathing.

One of the recruits, a pale girl named Alisa with a trembling hand, pulled out a thin, twisted branch—a magical artifact. As she muttered a soft incantation, the stick bloomed with pale flowers that emitted a dim, ghostly glow, casting long, wavering shadows across the chamber.

The faint light revealed their surroundings. They weren’t in a cave, but rather, a decrepit and forgotten hall—a place that had once been grand, now consumed by time and nature. Pillars, broken and moss-covered, lined the chamber, and fragments of ancient architecture jutted from the earth like the bones of some long-dead beast. Vines snaked through the walls, their tendrils coiling around the ruined stone as if trying to pull the hall further into the depths.

Abel’s breath caught in his throat as he surveyed the scene. There was something deeply unsettling about the place. It felt like they had stumbled upon a tomb that wasn’t meant to be found—a forgotten relic from a time best left buried.

“This... this place,” one of the recruits whispered, their voice trembling with fear. “Where are we?”

“Who cares?” Lorne muttered, his eyes darting around, scanning for any sign of danger. “We’re alive, that’s what matters. Let's find a way out before that thing follows us down here.”

Abel nodded, though his unease grew with every passing moment. He looked at the others. They shared his relief at having escaped the storm horror, but that relief was rapidly being replaced by a creeping dread as they realized where they had ended up. The air itself felt thick and heavy, as if something ancient was watching them from the shadows.

As they moved further into the hall, Abel noticed something strange. One of the recruits, the one holding the glowing stick, had stopped moving. She was staring intently at one of the walls, her face slack, her eyes wide and unfocused.

“Sena?” Abel called out softly, noticing that his friend had also frozen in place. Sena was standing beside the girl, his gaze fixed on the same section of the wall. His body was rigid, his expression blank, as though he had been hollowed out from the inside.

“Lorne!” Abel hissed, motioning towards them. “Something’s wrong!”

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Lorne rushed over, his own face pale with fear. “Don’t look at the wall!” he snapped, his voice shaking. He grabbed the girl by the shoulders and yanked her away from the wall. Her eyes fluttered, and she gasped as though waking from a nightmare.

Sena was harder to pull away, his body stiff as a statue. Abel reached out and grabbed his arm, shaking him violently. “Sena! Snap out of it!”

For a moment, it seemed hopeless—Sena’s eyes remained locked on the wall, his mind lost somewhere beyond the veil of reality. But then, with a shudder, he blinked and gasped, stumbling backward into Abel's arms.

"What… what was that?" Sena stammered, his voice barely more than a whisper. He looked shaken, his usually calm demeanor shattered. His hand trembled as he brought it to his face, wiping the sweat that had begun to bead on his forehead.

"I don't know," Abel replied, almost glancing warily at the wall. "What did you see?"

Sena shook his head, eyes wide. "I—nothing. I don't remember looking at anything. It just… swallowed me. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. I didn’t feel anything. It was like… like I wasn’t even here anymore."

Alisa, who had also fallen victim to the wall’s eerie lure, clutched her head, her breath shallow and uneven. “Same for me,” she murmured, her voice trembling. “It was like… everything disappeared. I couldn’t feel myself.”

Abel glanced toward the wall but quickly turned his gaze away, the sense of something malevolent emanating from it too overwhelming to ignore. Lorne, his face as pale as the others, whispered harshly, "Everyone, avoid looking at that wall. I don’t know what’s on it, but whatever it is... we can’t afford to lose anyone else."

The other recruits, already spooked, exchanged nervous glances and nodded quickly. They moved with deliberate caution now, keeping their eyes firmly fixed on the path ahead, their gazes skirting the haunted wall. No one dared look back.

As they continued, the silence grew more oppressive, broken only by the occasional drip of water or the soft shuffle of their feet. Every shadow seemed to creep closer, every flicker of light from the flowered stick casting twisted shapes across the broken stone. Abel felt the weight of the place, a tangible sense of dread curling around them like a predator waiting for the right moment to strike.

They were in a cursed place, that much was clear. Whatever power had entranced Sena and the girl was not something they could face—at least, not here, in this forgotten, decayed hall. Abel’s heart pounded as the realization settled deep into his bones. They needed to leave.

"We should hurry," Abel whispered, his voice tight with anxiety. "There’s no telling what else could be here."

The others agreed without argument, and they quickened their pace, all the while avoiding the walls that seemed to hold some terrible secret. Abel’s eyes flicked nervously to the side whenever he caught the faintest glimpse of movement in the dark. The walls, cracked and ancient, seemed to hum with a low, unnerving energy.

Finally, after what felt like hours of creeping through the eerie ruins, they came upon a half-open gate. The massive stone doorway was adorned with ancient symbols and glittering jewels that had dulled with age. Beyond the gate, a long, dimly lit stone hallway stretched out like a black void, the air within it colder than the rest of the hall.

They hesitated at the threshold, staring into the darkness beyond. The hallway seemed to lead nowhere, swallowed by shadows.

“This looks like our only way forward,” Lorne said, though his voice was barely above a whisper. There was no excitement or confidence in his words, only quiet fear.

Abel swallowed, his throat dry. The ominous feeling pressed harder against his chest as they stepped closer to the void. It felt as though the darkness was beckoning them, waiting with patient hunger.

“Let’s go,” he murmured, steeling himself. They needed to move, and whatever lay ahead had to be better than the walls behind them.

Without another word, they all stepped through the ancient gate and into the black void beyond, hoping that whatever horrors waited for them inside were kinder than the ones they had already left behind.