The sounds of footsteps echoed in the dimly lit corridor, broken only by Typhon’s incessant humming. His cheery voice carried a tune that grated against the children’s nerves, a jarring counterpoint to the oppressive silence of the hall. Every step they took felt scrutinized—not just by Typhon but by the walls themselves, their intricate symbols and carvings seemingly alive under the dim glow of flickering torches.

“Keep up, kiddos,” Typhon called, skipping ahead and tracing a finger lazily along the etchings. He stopped abruptly, spinning to face them with a grin too wide to be genuine. “It’s finally your room’s turn on the roster to stretch your legs! Aren’t you lucky?”

The children trudged behind him, their collars clinking faintly as they moved. Ellie walked between Atlas and Hannah, holding their hands tightly, her small fingers trembling against their skin. Behind them, Zephyr and Nia kept a measured pace, their faces tense but careful not to betray more than what was safe to show.

Hannah’s gaze flickered to the guards stationed at every corner, their dark robes blending into the shadows. The intricate black masks they wore were unsettling, each one adorned with an eye motif in the centre, staring unblinking. Warriors, Typhon had called them, protectors of Yamuna’s will and her chosen children. But Hannah felt no comfort in their presence—only the suffocating weight of their silent observation.

Typhon’s voice cut through her thoughts. “These hallways,” he gestured grandly, “are marked by Yamuna’s watchful eyes. Isn’t it beautiful?” His fingers trailed reverently over a symbol—a flaming eye surrounded by angular shapes that looked like broken chains. His voice dropped to a hushed, almost worshipful tone. “Her gaze sees all. Protects all. And when you earn her favour, you’ll see her light in ways you never imagined.”

The group exchanged wary glances, but no one dared speak. Hannah kept her expression neutral, suppressing the bile rising in her throat.

“Safety is a gift,” Typhon continued, his tone lifting back to its usual sickening sweetness. “And you, my special little ones, are very lucky to be here. Every morning, noon, and night, we give thanks to her and to him—our beloved Andrius—for their guidance.” His grin widened. “You’ve already had your first taste of this, haven’t you? The morning check-ins, the evening prayers. So simple, but so important. Keeps the soul clean.”

Atlas muttered something under his breath, and Hannah shot him a warning glance. Typhon’s ear twitched, though his expression didn’t falter. He slowed his pace, now walking backward to face them.

“You’ll come to understand,” Typhon said, his voice almost tender. “Every rule here is for your own good. The collars? The routines? The check-ins? All of it is to keep you safe. Yamuna is always watching. And if you falter, her eyes will know. But don’t fret too much,” he added with a wink. “That’s why we have him.” He tapped his own chest dramatically. “To guide you.”

Zephyr’s voice broke the silence, low and sharp. “Guide us where?”

Typhon’s grin didn’t waver, but his eyes glittered with something colder. “To perfection.”

The children fell silent again, unease pressing down on them like a heavy weight. The cult symbols etched into the walls seemed to glow faintly as they walked, the flaming eyes following their every step. Hannah couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched—not just by Typhon or the Warriors but by something more. Something vast and unknowable.

Ellie tugged gently at Hannah’s sleeve twice, small brown eyes meeting hers, the code they had decided on flitted through her memory. “are you still sore from yesterday?” Two tugs on the sleeve before a question meant someone was really asking, is it safe to talk here? The rest of the group listened in, Zephyr and Nia leaning forward to catch what Hannah would say. Hannah shook her head slowly. It would be better if Typhon believed they were too scared to make normal conversation around him. The other three agreed with Hannah’s, as mutterings of I’m feeling just fine! And Looks like no-one’s sore fell from their lips.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The corridor stretched endlessly ahead, the monotonous rhythm of their steps broken only by Typhon’s humming. He paused again, this time running a hand along the wall as if caressing something sacred. “You know,” he said, his tone conversational, “Andrius himself designed some of these rituals. Isn’t that amazing? Morning check-ins are his favourite—he says it’s the best way to start the day, with everyone united in praise.”

“Praise of him,” Nia muttered under her breath, her words almost drowned out by the sound of their footsteps.

Typhon spun to face her, his grin sharp. “Of course! He is the goddess’s voice, after all. Through him, we know her will. You’ll come to see that soon enough.”

Hannah’s stomach churned. She didn’t need to see more—she already hated what little she understood. The way they spoke of Yamuna as omniscient, as if her eyes weren’t just on the walls but etched into their very skin. The way they revered Andrius, painting him as a saviour when every word he uttered reeked of control.

Typhon’s humming filled the long periods of silence that followed, the same cheerful tune repeating itself over as if stuck on loop. His eyes stayed wandering over the intricate carvings, eyes tracing over the shapes like a prayer. “And just think,” he continue, spinning around to walk backwards, “you’ll be able to see even more of this place, once you’ve earned it. The deeper sanctums of her power are even more impressive!”

Hannah’s stomach twisted at the thought. More of this place? She already hated the way the air felt, as though it clung to her skin, laden with secrets she didn’t want to uncover. Yet, at the same time, there was a flicker of curiosity—dangerous, maybe, but hard to ignore.

What exactly were they hiding here?

They passed a small alcove, its recess filled with a statue of Yamuna. Her form was cloaked in flowing stone robes, her face obscured but for the blazing eye at its centre. Beneath the statue, an inscription read: Her gaze is eternal. Her light is unyielding. Typhon stopped before it, bowing his head briefly in reverence. “And every night, before you sleep, you’ll thank her for keeping you safe another day. You’ll see,” he said softly, almost to himself. “You’ll all see.”

Typhon’s humming trailed off as they approached a cross-section in the corridors. He paused, cocking his head as if listening to something far away. A Warrior approached, whispering something in his ear, and Typhon’s grin faltered for just a second.

“Well, it seems I have some duties to attend to,” he announced, spinning on his heel to face them with a mockingly grand gesture. “I’m sure you can remember the way back…just don’t wander too far. The walls have eyes, after all.”” His eyes lingered on them, his tone too bright for the warning to be comforting.

With a wave, he disappeared down one of the adjoining corridors, his humming fading into the distance. The Warriors remained unmoving, statuesque figures shrouded in their black robes, each one more ominous than the last. For a moment, no one moved. And yet, for the first time since the walk began, the children were alone.

Ellie’s grip on Hannah’s hand tightened, the pressure of it grounding her in the moment. For a second, nobody moved. They stood there, caught in the silence, unsure of what came next.

Atlas broke the tension first, glancing around with a scowl. “Well, that was weird. Do you think he really left, or is he just waiting to see if we screw up?”

Zephyr, who had been silent up until now, leaned forward slightly, his gaze flicking down the empty hallway where Typhon had vanished. “He’s always watching,” Zephyr said under his breath, his voice barely a whisper.

The others exchanged nervous glances. What now?

Hannah’s eyes drifted back to the Warriors, who still hadn’t moved. Their presence felt off—like mannequins in a storefront, rigid and indifferent. And yet… something about them unsettled her more now that Typhon was gone.

Nia shifted uncomfortably, glancing toward the guards. She wrinkled her nose. “These guys creep me out,” she muttered under her breath, her voice low but urgent. “Can we move a little? Just… away from them?”

Hannah’s mouth went dry at Nia’s suggestion, her heart hammering louder than their footsteps. But she couldn’t disagree—the Warriors’ hollow eyes seemed to follow their every move. Hannah nodded slightly, grateful for the suggestion. Even though they hadn’t budged since Typhon left, something about them made her skin crawl.

As the group began moving forward again, Hannah’s heart thudded in her chest. The familiar tension that had been there since the moment they arrived in the complex intensified. Every footstep seemed too loud, every breath too harsh. The cult symbols on the walls seemed to watch them, the eye-shaped flames almost glowing in the corner of her vision. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something worse was lurking in the shadows—something that had nothing to do with the guards or Typhon’s sickeningly sweet smile.

It was then that they passed a doorway, barely visible in the bright corridor, the metal door painted the same sterile white as the walls. But what caught Hannah’s attention wasn’t the door itself—it was the faint smell wafting through the thin crack where it wasn’t fully closed. A smell she recognized.

Decay.

Hannah stopped in her tracks, causing Ellie and Atlas to almost stumble into her. “Wait,” she whispered sharply.

The others followed her gaze to the small gap in the door. Atlas frowned, stepping forward cautiously. He reached out, placing his hand against the door as if testing whether it was safe to push open. “What is this place?” he muttered.

Zephyr’s voice was unnaturally quiet as he replied, “I don’t think we want to know.”

“Hannah?” Ellie whispered, her voice trembling.

But Hannah couldn’t help it—she had to know. Something about the smell, the way it curled into her nose and lodged in her throat, made her feel sick but also pulled her forward.

“Hannah, wait—” Atlas started, his hand reaching for her arm, but she was already moving in, her curiosity drowning out the unease bubbling in her chest. Her curiosity burned hotter than her fear as she leaned closer, peering into the darkness beyond the door.

And then she saw it.

The faint outline of something—piles of something—lurking just beyond the threshold.

Bodies.