The cavern’s silence pressed down on Emma as she stood, her legs trembling beneath her. Her mind raced with a single, unrelenting thought: We are replaying the past. But how?

She scanned her surroundings again, the rocky walls unchanged, the air as stale as before. Nothing seemed out of place, yet an unease lingered, as though the dungeon itself mocked her.

Ahead, the boy walked with the same calm, unbothered pace, the faint glow of his lamp throwing jagged shadows along the uneven walls. She hurried to catch up, her boots scraping against the stone floor, the sound echoing like whispers of unseen entities.

“Do you know anything about this dungeon?” she asked, her voice sharp with frustration.

The boy didn’t respond. His gaze remained fixed ahead, his silence grating against her nerves.

So that’s how you want to play it, she muttered under her breath, clenching her fists. For a brief moment, the urge to lash out at him surged, but she forced herself to stay composed.

They reached the section with the carvings. The wall loomed before them, illuminated by the flickering light of their lamps. Emma hesitated, her gaze locking onto the warriors bowing in reverence.

But nothing had changed.

The carvings were exactly as they had been before. The throne, the river, the shattered ring—everything was the same.

Her brow furrowed. Strange. Very strange.

She shook off the unease and followed the boy further into the dungeon. They came to a dead end, where five distinct paths stretched out before them. Two ran straight ahead, one veered left, another right, and three descended into slopes that disappeared into the shadows below.

“Which way do we go?” Emma asked, her voice low but insistent.

The boy paused, his head tilting slightly as though listening to some distant sound. Without a word, he stepped toward the path on the right.

Emma sighed, muttering to herself, Of course, he won’t explain anything. She gripped her lamp tightly and followed him.

The air grew colder as they moved deeper into the dungeon, the light from their lamps barely keeping the encroaching darkness at bay. The silence was soon broken by a faint sound, distant yet unmistakable—a child’s cry.

Emma froze, her heart skipping a beat. The sound was fragile, like a wounded bird, yet it carried an unnatural echo that set her teeth on edge.

The boy drew a small knife from his belt, the blade reflecting the faint glow of his lamp. His eyes darted toward the source of the sound, his movements measured, predatory.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

The crying grew louder, reverberating through the narrow passageway until it seemed to come from everywhere at once.

Emma’s grip on her lamp tightened, her knuckles white. Her eyes scanned the darkness, every shadow twisting into a potential threat.

Then she saw it.

Behind a jagged rock sat a child, no older than a year. Its tiny form huddled in the shadows, its cries shaking the air around them. The soft glow of Emma’s lamp illuminated its pale, cherubic face streaked with tears.

The cries ceased.

Emma took a hesitant step forward, but the boy raised his arm, barring her path. She turned to him, her frustration bubbling over. “What are you doing?” she hissed.

He shook his head, his expression grim. “It’s dangerous,” he said simply.

“Dangerous?” she repeated, incredulous. “It’s just a child.”

The boy’s gaze didn’t waver. “It’s not what you think.”

Reluctantly, Emma nodded, stepping back. The boy moved forward cautiously, his knife at the ready. Each step was deliberate, his movements as quiet as a predator stalking its prey.

Then he stopped abruptly. His body tensed, and he turned to Emma, his voice sharp.

“Run.”

“What?” she began, but before she could protest, he grabbed her arm and pulled her into a sprint.

Behind them, a guttural sound erupted, a wet, slithering noise that made Emma’s stomach churn. She glanced over her shoulder and froze in horror.

The child was no longer sitting.

Its small body stood unnaturally straight, a wide grin splitting its face. Its eyes, now pitch-black voids, gleamed with malice. The creature dropped to all fours, its movements jerky and unnerving, before launching itself onto the walls.

It crawled with inhuman speed, its limbs twisting grotesquely as it pursued them.

“That isn’t a baby!” Emma screamed, her legs burning as she tried to keep up with the boy.

“It’s not,” he agreed, his tone disturbingly calm.

“Then what is it?” she demanded, her voice breaking.

“Something hungry,” he said simply.

The creature’s laughter echoed through the dungeon, a warped parody of a child’s giggle. Emma’s heart raced as she pushed herself to run faster, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

The passage seemed endless, the walls blurring together as they ran. The air grew thicker, each step feeling like wading through syrup.

“What’s happening?” Emma cried out, glancing at the boy.

“I don’t know,” he replied, his expression unreadable.

She risked another look behind them and felt her blood run cold.

The creature was right there, standing calmly in the center of the passage. Its arms were crossed behind its back, and its grin had widened impossibly, stretching to reveal rows of jagged, glistening teeth.

“I’m hungry,” it said, its voice high and distorted, the sound scraping against her ears.

The creature’s mouth began to stretch further, the darkness inside expanding like a void. The walls around them seemed to warp, drawn toward the gaping maw as if the dungeon itself was being devoured.

Emma’s scream was cut short as the void consumed her, swallowing her whole.

She woke with a gasp, the pain in her head sharper than before. The cold, hard ground pressed against her back, and the familiar dim light of the cavern greeted her once more.

Her breath came in short, panicked bursts as she sat up.

“Wait…” she muttered, her voice trembling. She turned her head slowly, her worst fear confirmed as she saw the boy sitting exactly where he had been before.

He regarded her with the same detached expression.

“Awake already?” he asked.

Her mind buzzed, the weight of the repeating nightmare crushing her. Fury and desperation bubbled to the surface, her patience utterly spent.

Her voice deep as she stood, looking at him with rage in her eyes.

“Who are you, and what do you know about this dungeon?”

Her demand echoed through the cavern, unanswered.