Henry followed the faint sound, guiding him to a metal pipe jutting out of the cavern wall. His fingers brushed over its cold, slick surface, and a shiver ran up his arm. The pipe felt jarringly modern, as if it belonged in another world. Yet here it was, embedded in rock, out of place and disquieting in the shadowed chamber.

A boy’s crying floated through the pipe, thin and trembling. It wavered, almost swallowed by the vast silence around them, yet it held a childlike fear that tugged at Henry’s chest. The voice didn’t belong here—just like the pipe, just like the unnatural, anxious silence pressing down on him.

"Are you okay down there? What's going on?"

“They told me to stay here…” the boy murmured, his words hollow and resigned. Henry’s heart gave a painful, sympathetic lurch. Whoever had left him here, it was clear the boy had little choice.

Henry leaned closer, his voice soft but edged with urgency.

“Are you hurt?”

A beat of silence. Henry held his breath, straining to catch any sound beyond the cold metal.

Then, faintly:

“No.”

"Whats your name?"

"Luka."

He glanced over at Elara. Her bright, curious eyes gleamed with unhidden amusement, her expression hovering between mischief and intrigue. It seemed she was unbothered by the strangeness of it all, but Henry couldn’t shake the tension tightening in his chest. He turned back to the pipe, hoping his tone carried more steadiness than he felt.

“Don’t worry,” he said, forcing calm into his voice. “We’ll get you out.” He hesitated, listening to the boy’s faint, uneven breaths. “Just stay right there. We’ll hurry, okay?”

A small pause, then a hesitant

“…Okay.”

The boy’s voice bounced in his mind as they moved away, lingering like the nightmare he'd had.The image of a child crouched in darkness clung to him, casting shadows over his thoughts. Who had told him to stay here? And what kind of place was this, where metal pipes and frightened children hid within stone walls?

They pressed on, and as they rounded the next bend, a new sight stopped them cold. Embedded in the stone wall ahead was an old, rusted elevator, its cage-like frame draped in thick layers of grime. The faint glow of Elara’s light danced over it, throwing jagged shadows across the walls. Henry blinked, feeling his sense of reality strain as he tried to process the sight of an industrial machine abandoned in the depths of this cave. It felt like a warning, a remnant of something long forgotten yet still waiting, still watching.

Elara’s reaction was instantaneous and delightfully chaotic. With a squeal of joy, she leapt onto the elevator platform, her wings flaring as she spun in the cramped space, her laughter ringing out as the elevator lurched and began its slow, shuddering descent. She twirled, barely touching the ground, and Henry watched, both bemused and concerned, as she reveled in the discovery, her excitement filling the confined space.

“Oh, I adore these contraptions!” she sang out, her voice echoing. “So much more thrilling than flying, you know! Up and down, with a bit of mystery each time!”

She pressed herself against the elevator walls, as though hoping to coax it into an even wilder ride, her laughter growing louder as the platform creaked and rattled its way downward.

Elara’s joy was as boundless as her energy. Just as it seemed she couldn’t contain herself any longer, she leapt up, wings flashing in a burst of iridescent light, her curls flying as she soared within the cramped space. The elevator’s descent didn’t faze her in the slightest; she rose and fell in time with its jerky movements, a blur of sparkling light and motion, filling the air with a wild, infectious delight.

At the bottom of the elevator, they stepped out into a cavernous space, dimly lit by strange, hanging lights. Rusted machinery filled the area, along with crates stacked in haphazard piles, each one covered in a thick layer of dust. The place had an unsettling, industrial feel that seemed at odds with everything else he’d seen in this strange, mist-filled world. Henry felt a shiver creep down his spine as he looked around. Next thing he knew, they'd be running into airships or, even worse, guns.

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A knot twisted in his stomach. Guns—he hadn’t thought about them in years, yet the memories crashed back, unbidden and razor-sharp: the deafening cracks of gunfire, the sickening weight of finality from that day. His father had died in a shooting when he was just a kid, and no matter how long ago that was, the sight or mention of firearms still sent a jolt of tension up his spine. Irrational, maybe, to worry about something like that here, of all places, where magic, monsters, and mists were the real threats. Yet somehow, this world felt like a twisted blend of fantasy and rot, a surreal labyrinth built to wear down hope, one rusted cog at a time.

Shaking off the unease, he focused on the task at hand. The room was filled with towering machinery, grimy and ancient, humming with an odd energy that prickled his skin. Steeling himself, he moved between the towering constructs, eyes scanning for any hint about this strange technology or why it even existed in a place like this.

“Hey, Elara,” he called, glancing over his shoulder. “Why am I able to understand everyone here?”

Perched atop a metal crate, Elara swung her legs like a carefree child, her wings shimmering in the dim light as she tilted her head with a mischievous grin.

“Oh, that’s just part of the charm, silly! Magic has a way of making you feel right at home.” She winked, then gave a theatrical, knowing nod, as if her cryptic answer solved every mystery in the universe.

Henry rolled his eyes, but a faint smile tugged at his lips. For all the surreal absurdity of this place, Elara’s playful antics were grounding him in a way he hadn’t expected. As he continued his search, his gaze caught on a narrow pipe tucked behind a hulking machine. Crouching down, he pressed his ear close and could just make out the faint, whispery voice from earlier, threading through the machinery like a ghostly reminder of all he didn’t know.

The boy was huddled in the shadows, looking up at Henry with wide, cautious eyes. For a moment, he seemed frozen, but as recognition dawned, a flicker of relief softened his tense features. Henry knelt beside him, offering a reassuring smile as he gently helped him to his feet.

“Come on,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, “we’re getting out of here.”

They had barely turned back toward the elevator when voices sounded faintly through the dim, metallic corridors. Henry paused, pressing a finger to his lips as a signal for silence. Elara and the boy stilled, and from the shadows, Henry’s eyes picked out two figures. One was the village elder, his face etched with lines of exhaustion, a faint scar trailing down his cheek, reddish and raw even in the low light. Beside him stood a young man, his shoulders tense, his voice filled with frustration—someone Henry recognized as a friend of the villager who had succumbed to madness. Their conversation, carried by the faint hum of ancient machinery, was punctuated by weary determination and an urgency that made Henry’s chest tighten.

As they slipped away, Henry kept Luka close, his hand clasping the boy’s small fingers tightly. Luka looked up at him with a curious, almost fearful gaze, his wide eyes darting nervously around the strange, towering machines. After a long silence, he finally spoke, his voice barely a whisper.

“Why were you down here?” Luka asked, awe and fear mingling in his tone. “Did they… did they make you stay here too?”

Henry shook his head, offering the boy a soft smile.

“No, I’m just passing through. But I found you, didn’t I?” His words seemed to settle Luka a little, though a shadow of doubt lingered in the boy’s eyes as he glanced back at the machines, their hulking shapes casting distorted shadows on the walls.

Luka’s gaze shifted back to Henry, worry deepening in his expression.

“Do you know what all of this is?”

Henry was about to answer when Elara flitted closer, practically buzzing with excitement. She nudged Luka with a playful grin, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Oh, Henry here might not know a thing about it, but I’ve seen all sorts of strange wonders in my time,” she whispered, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. “Why, I’ve danced with glowing toadstools, heard rivers whisper secrets, and once… I even made a stone laugh.”

Luka’s eyes widened, a smile blossoming as he looked up at her in awe.

“You made a stone laugh?”

Elara nodded vigorously, her face alight with exaggerated enthusiasm.

“Oh yes! Stones are terribly serious, you know. Very stubborn! It took ages of tickling, just the right sprinkle of fairy dust, and a few rounds of dancing. Would you like me to show you?”

Luka giggled, spellbound by her tale, while Henry shot Elara a wary look.

“Elara, maybe save the dance for when we’re somewhere safe, yeah? The last thing we need is anyone noticing us because of a giggling rock.”

Elara heaved a dramatic sigh, rolling her eyes with all the flair of an overburdened actress.

“Oh, you’re no fun at all,” she muttered, crossing her arms. But with a wink at Luka, she added, “Fine, for your sake, I’ll be as quiet as a whisper. The sacrifices I make for you boring humans.”

Luka stifled another laugh, and Henry bit back a smile of his own.

“Alright, both of you, let’s keep it down,” he whispered, pressing a finger to his lips. Luka mimicked the gesture, his eyes bright with delight as he nodded.

As they crept toward the elevator, the steady hum of machinery mingled with the faint, metallic tang that filled the air, sending a prickling unease across Henry’s skin. The silence around them grew thicker, taut with an anticipation that set his senses on edge. Just as they reached the elevator door, muffled voices drifted through the stillness, cutting through the hum and stopping them cold. Henry’s hand tightened around Luka’s, and they all froze, breath held, straining to listen.

That voice—he recognized it. It was…