The ledge quaked beneath us, its fractured edge tilting as the red-eyed beast’s claw raked the stone, a deafening screech of splitting rock drowning Aya’s scream. Water surged around my knees, black and relentless, pulling at us as the cavern collapsed in jagged shards. I gripped the shard, its pulse faint but stubborn, a dying ember against my palm. The beast’s molten eyes burned through the flood, unblinking, fixed on me—or the shard—its roar a furnace blast that shook the air. Aya clung to my arm, her nails biting into my skin, her voice a desperate thread: “Lin Ze, we’re slipping!”
I braced against the wall, the stone slick under my boots, searching for anything—any hold, any chance. The beast lunged again, its claw slashing inches from my leg, shattering the ledge’s lip. Fragments sprayed into the water, and the tilt steepened, forcing us back until my spine pressed hard against the cavern wall. “Hold on!” I shouted, wrapping my free arm around Aya’s waist, pinning her to me as the flood rose to our thighs. The shard flared, a sudden jolt of heat, and the beast paused, its head tilting, those red slits narrowing as if it heard it.
“What does it want?” Aya gasped, her breath ragged, her eyes darting between me and the monster. I didn’t know—couldn’t know—but the shard’s pulse quickened, syncing with a hum I felt more than heard, a vibration rising from the trench’s depths. The beast’s claw hovered, dripping black blood from where I’d struck it, and for a heartbeat, it stilled, its gaze shifting from me to the shard, a flicker of something—hunger, recognition—passing through its molten stare.
The cavern groaned, a crack splitting the wall behind us, and water gushed through, cold and forceful, shoving us sideways. I dug my boots into the ledge, the shard scalding my hand, and thrust it forward—instinct, desperation, a last gamble. “Back off!” I roared, my voice swallowed by the flood’s roar, but the shard flared brighter, a white-hot glow that pierced the dark. The beast recoiled, its snarl twisting into a shriek, claws slashing the water as if burned. The hum spiked, a deafening pulse that shook the ledge loose, and we slid, tumbling toward the flood.
Aya’s grip tightened, and I twisted, slamming my shoulder into a jutting rock, halting our fall just above the waterline. The beast thrashed below, its red eyes blazing, but it didn’t lunge—not yet. The shard’s light dimmed, its heat fading, and I clutched it, panting, my mind racing. “It’s afraid of this,” I muttered, staring at the fragment. Aya coughed, spitting water, her voice weak but sharp: “Or it wants it.”
The ledge cracked again, a final groan before it gave way, and we dropped, splashing into the flood. The cold hit like a fist, stealing my breath, and I flailed, pulling Aya up as the current dragged us under. Her arms locked around my neck, her weight anchoring me as I kicked against the pull, the shard’s faint pulse guiding me through the dark. The beast’s roar faded, muffled by water, but its shadow loomed, a monstrous silhouette circling beneath us.
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My boot struck something solid—a rusted beam thrusting from the cavern floor, part of the lattice’s wreckage. I grabbed it, hauling us up, and we broke the surface, gasping, clinging to the metal as the flood swirled around us. The shard pulsed once, weakly, and I held it aloft, its glow a flicker in the gloom. The hum returned—not the beast’s, not the Whisperer’s, but that deeper call, resonating through the beam, vibrating up my arm. The water stilled, just for a moment, and a shape rose—not the beast, but a grid of metal, faint green light pulsing along its edges, lifting from the flood like a drowned relic.
Aya’s eyes widened, her voice trembling. “Lin Ze, it’s… alive.” The grid hummed, its light syncing with the shard, tendrils of wire snaking from its frame, reaching toward us. I pulled Aya back, but the tendrils stopped short, sparking faintly, as if testing the air. The beast’s roar erupted again, closer now, and the water churned—the red-eyed monster surged from below, its claws slashing the grid. Metal screamed, sparks flew, and the grid pulsed, a shockwave of light blasting the beast back, charring its scales.
“It’s fighting,” I said, my voice hoarse, gripping the beam tighter. The grid’s tendrils lashed out again, wrapping the beast’s claw, pulling it down, but the monster tore free, its roar shaking the cavern. The flood rose to our chests, the beam bending under our weight, and I scanned the dark—there, a narrow ledge along the far wall, barely above the water. “Aya, swim!” I shouted, pushing her toward it as the grid flared, its light flickering like a dying star.
She kicked off, her strokes weak but desperate, and I followed, the shard’s pulse fading in my hand. The beast thrashed, caught in the grid’s tendrils, its red eyes burning through the water as we swam. Aya reached the ledge, clawing her way up, and I grabbed its edge, pulling myself after her. The grid shrieked, a final pulse of light bursting from its core, and the beast roared, tearing it apart in a shower of sparks and twisted metal. The hum died, silence crashing in, broken only by the flood’s relentless surge.
We crouched on the ledge, shivering, the water lapping at our feet. The beast circled below, its eyes glinting, but it didn’t climb—not yet. I held the shard, its glow gone, its surface cold and lifeless. “It’s… dead,” I muttered, turning it in my hand. Aya shook her head, her voice a whisper: “No—it called that thing. It’s part of this.”
Before I could respond, the cavern trembled, a new sound rising—not a hum, not a roar, but a low, rhythmic thud, like footsteps shaking the deep. The water rippled, and shadows moved—not the beast’s, but larger, broader, converging from the trench’s depths. The beast’s eyes flicked away from us, its snarl shifting, and it dove, vanishing into the flood as if fleeing. Aya grabbed my arm, her voice tight: “Lin Ze, something’s coming—something bigger.”
I stared into the water, the shard heavy in my grip, its silence louder than the hum had ever been. The thudding grew, a pulse that shook the ledge, and the shadows sharpened—hulking forms, not scaled but armored, their outlines glinting with a dull, metallic sheen. The flood parted, revealing a single eye—not red, not amber, but a cold, unyielding blue, glowing through the dark like a beacon. It wasn’t alone—more eyes flickered behind it, a chorus of light piercing the trench.
The ledge cracked, water surging higher, and I pulled Aya close, the shard’s call a ghost in my hand. The deep was fracturing, and whatever answered wasn’t here to save us.