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Chapter One-Hundred-And-seventy-nine: Rod: The Tomb Of Chanchydia, Part 8

Chapter One-Hundred-And-seventy-nine: Rod: The Tomb Of Chanchydia, Part 8

I stared at the last words of the journal, my stomach churning. Thomas Terrenfel.

The name hit me like a punch to the gut, bringing with it a flood of memories I’d rather leave buried. How could it be him? My mind rebelled at the thought. Thomas was dead, right?—I killed him—and yet, here it was, his name scrawled across the page like a ghost reaching out from the past.

“No,” I muttered, shaking my head. “It can’t be.” My voice sounded hollow, even to me. How could his journal end up here, on this cursed rock, so far removed from where we’d last crossed paths? It didn’t make sense. Nothing about this made sense.

I flipped through the pages again, desperate for some kind of clue, some proof that this was a mistake. Maybe it wasn’t my Thomas. Maybe it was someone else with the same name—a coincidence, a cruel joke. But the handwriting felt familiar, the tone unmistakable. The more I read, the harder it became to deny the possibility.

Seven weeks... What had happened to them out there? And what had happened to Maris? I could almost feel the desperation in the words, the creeping sense of doom that had settled over the crew like a storm cloud. This wasn’t some lighthearted adventure. Whatever they had found on that island had broken them. And the thought that Thomas might have been part of it—that his story hadn’t started where I thought it had—gnawed at me like a festering wound.

I couldn’t stop the questions from clawing at my mind. Was this really him? How could he have been here before me? What the hell had he done to end up on this godforsaken island? Or in Penance attached to Rellum, for that matter. And Maris—what role had he played? The entries felt soaked in dread, laced with secrets too dangerous to unearth.

My breath came in shallow bursts as I stuffed the journal back into the pack, my fingers numb. The night had grown colder, darker, and the stars above felt distant, like they were watching but offering no comfort.

What the hell did you do, Thomas? And you, Maris? The questions hung in my mind, heavy and ominous, each one more suffocating than the last. The image of the stone from the journal haunted me, its cold runes glowing in my mind's eye, whispering promises I wasn’t ready to hear.

I slammed the pack shut, trying to push it all away, but it clung to me like a second skin, pulling me deeper into a growing sense of dread. “This doesn’t change anything,” I whispered to myself, though the words rang hollow. My heart was pounding, my head spinning with the implications. If this really was Thomas, then what did that mean for me? For this place? And for Maris?

At some point, exhaustion must have claimed me, because the next thing I knew, I woke with a start. But this time, it wasn’t the cold that chilled me—it was the sight of Maris, standing over me, peering down with an inquisitive look in his eyes. His shadow loomed large against the dim morning light, making my pulse jump in my throat.

“You snore in your sleep,” he said casually, as though nothing had happened.

I swallowed hard, forcing a smirk. “Not as loud as you,” I shot back, my voice steadier than I expected, even though my insides were twisting with unease. Maris extended a hand to pull me to my feet, and as I took it, a chill ran through me. How much did he know? How much had he been hiding? And how much of what I’d read would come back to haunt me?

He laughed, a low, rumbling sound that felt out of place given everything I knew now. It sent a chill down my spine, but I took his hand and stood, dusting myself off as if it were any other morning.

“Let’s get a move on,” he said, his tone too light, too carefree. “The sun’s shining, and I wanna get this over with soon.” He tossed me a chunk of dried meat wrapped in hard bread, his face betraying no sign of the darkness that lurked behind his words from the night before.

I caught the food Maris tossed my way, a chunk of dried meat wrapped in hard bread. Breakfast. I stared at it for a moment, the rough texture pressing into my palm. It would have to do. As I chewed, the tough meat offering little flavor, my mind raced, replaying the journal entries I’d read in the dead of night.

The Stone of Separation. The cursed island. The crew’s descent into madness. Maris acted like nothing was wrong, but I knew better now. I couldn’t trust him. Not after what I’d discovered. But I also knew that this mystery—the stone, the island, whatever dark secret Maris was hiding—was the key to getting out of this world. If I could just figure out his plan, maybe I could get ahead of him. Beat him at his own game.

No way I’m letting another betrayal go down without a fight.

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A sudden tremor shook the ground beneath us, jolting me from my thoughts. I looked up to see the volcano looming overhead, a colossal shadow against the morning sky. A thin plume of smoke coiled from its peak, staining the clouds with a dark smudge. The air grew thick, heavy with the scent of sulfur. My throat tightened.

“Did you feel that?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

Maris glanced back at me, his eyes unreadable. “We need to hurry,” he said tersely. “There’s only one area left to clear. Let’s go!”

Without waiting for a response, he took off, sprinting into the dense jungle. I hesitated for a split second, watching his figure disappear among the tangled vines and towering trees. Another tremor rippled through the ground, more intense this time, rattling the leaves overhead.

Great. If the island doesn’t kill me, the volcano will.

I shoved the last bit of bread into my mouth and ran after him, branches whipping against my arms as I pushed through the thick underbrush. The jungle was alive with sounds—the distant cries of unseen creatures, the rustling of leaves—but beneath it all was a low, ominous rumble that seemed to come from the very heart of the island.

As we raced through the foliage, the heat became oppressive. Sweat trickled down my back, my shirt clinging to my skin. The air was so humid it felt like I was breathing through a wet cloth. I could taste the ash beginning to taint the atmosphere, a gritty sensation on my tongue.

Up ahead, Maris moved with a purpose, dodging obstacles with practiced ease. It was as if he knew exactly where he was going. Of course he does. The thought only deepened my unease. What else was he hiding?

The jungle abruptly thinned, and we emerged at the base of the volcano. The ground here was blackened, scarred by ancient lava flows that had hardened into jagged rocks. A gaping cave mouth yawned before us, jutting out at an unnatural angle, as if the earth itself had been torn open.

Maris paused only to cast a glance back at me. “This is it,” he said, a strange gleam in his eyes.

I nodded, trying to catch my breath. The air was sweltering, waves of heat distorting the space around us. I fanned myself futilely. “You sure about this?”

He smirked. “Not getting cold feet, are you?”

Before I could respond, he leaped into the cave, vanishing into the darkness below. His laughter echoed up the cavern walls. “Come on, follow me!”

I peered over the edge. The incline was steep, more of a slide than a path, disappearing into shadows that swallowed the light. A chill ran down my spine.

This is insane.

I whispered a quick incantation, casting a shield over him first, then myself. A faint shimmer enveloped me, the protective spell settling like a second skin. Better safe than sorry.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped over the edge and began the descent. The rocky surface was smooth enough to slide on but rough enough to control my speed. The tunnel twisted and turned, the walls closing in at times, then opening up into vast chambers that flickered with an eerie bioluminescence.

“Aww, you’re no fun!” Maris’s voice floated back to me. “Where’s your sense of thrill?”

I gritted my teeth, focusing on the path ahead. “I left it back on solid ground,” I muttered.

As we glided deeper, the oppressive heat began to fade, replaced by a cool, damp chill. The air grew thin, tinged with a metallic scent that I couldn’t place. The slide seemed endless, a tunnel stretching into the bowels of the earth.

How deep does this go?

Time lost meaning. Minutes felt like hours as we descended further into the unknown. The glow from the upper world had long vanished, leaving us in a dim twilight cast by strange luminescent fungi clinging to the cavern walls. Their light pulsed softly, casting long shadows that danced at the edges of my vision.

My thoughts wandered back to the journal. The final entries had been the most disturbing—tales of madness, whispers in the dark, sacrifices demanded by ancient gods. The Stone of Separation was at the heart of it all.

The possibility sent a surge of adrenaline through me. I reached inside my jacket, fingers brushing against the hilt of my dagger. A small comfort, but better than nothing.

Ahead, the slide leveled out, depositing us onto a wide ledge overlooking a vast underground chamber. I stood up, brushing dust from my clothes, and took in the scene before me.

The chamber was colossal, its ceiling swallowed by darkness. Jagged stalagmites rose from the ground like the fangs of some buried beast. At the center stood an enormous stone altar, carved with the same runes I'd seen on the stone in Maris's pack. The air was thick with energy—a humming vibration that resonated deep within my bones.

Maris was already moving toward the altar, his steps purposeful and unhurried. I hurried to catch up, every sense on high alert. Above me, Crystal, the small red gemstone that hovered faithfully over my head, pulsed with a faint light, mirroring my growing unease.

"What is this place?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

He glanced at me, a mysterious smile playing on his lips. "The heart of the island. The place where it all began."