Chapter eight

The cave stretched ahead, its walls narrowing as they ventured deeper into the earth. The air was cold and damp, clinging to Claire’s skin, while the scent of moss and stone filled her nostrils. Every step sent echoes through the tunnel, a constant reminder of how alone they were down here—and how easily anything could find them.

Harold rummaged in his pack, muttering under his breath. A spark flashed, and then the warm glow of a torch flickered to life. “There we go,” he said, holding it up to cast light ahead. “That’s better.”

The shadows on the rocky walls danced in eerie shapes, and Claire’s grip tightened on her naginata. Her body still ached, her ribs throbbing with every breath. She pressed her free hand against her side, wincing as she felt the sharp pang of the wound from days before.

“Keep moving,” Elise ordered from behind, her voice steady but tense. Her sword gleamed faintly in the firelight, her gaze constantly sweeping the tunnel entrance behind them. “We need to get deeper before they catch up.”

Claire nodded but couldn’t shake the tight feeling in her chest. How long could she keep pushing herself? She had barely survived the first attack from that creature, and now they were cornered again. The thought made her stomach churn.

The ground sloped downward, slick beneath their boots. Harold moved quickly, lighting the way ahead. “Watch your step,” he whispered, casting a worried glance over his shoulder. “This place is a maze. One wrong turn and we’ll be lost.”

Claire swallowed hard, her mind racing. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the distant sound of dripping water. As they descended, she realized something was missing—the notifications. The system had gone silent. She hadn’t seen anything in days, not even when she had fought the thornlings.

What happened? The absence of the system felt strange, like a part of her senses had been dulled. The notifications had been an ever-present nuisance, but now she wasn’t sure what to make of their absence.

The cave widened into a small chamber, but there was no time to rest. Harold set the torch down briefly to adjust his pack, the flames casting eerie, flickering shadows on the walls.

Elise pressed ahead, her body tense, every muscle on alert. “Keep moving, but stay sharp,” she warned, her eyes scanning the darkness. “That thing driving the thornlings isn’t far behind.”

Claire’s ribs burned with every step, but she pushed the pain aside, forcing herself to keep moving. I can’t afford to fall apart now, she thought, her fingers flexing on the handle of her weapon.

“You doing alright?” Harold asked, his voice low but laced with concern. He cast a quick glance her way as they walked. “Because, y’know, I’m not loving our odds down here.”

“Same,” Claire muttered, offering a weak smile in return. But her mind was elsewhere, focused on the eerie silence in her head where the system had once been.

Elise kept her eyes forward. “We’ll make it. Stay focused.”

The path finally opened up, the narrow passage giving way to a larger cavern. Stalactites hung from the ceiling like jagged teeth, and the sound of dripping water echoed through the space. The air was damp, heavy with the smell of wet stone. Faint streaks of mineral deposits glistened on the cavern walls, reflecting the light from Harold’s torch as they stepped inside.

Claire let out a shaky breath. The space felt immense compared to the claustrophobic tunnel they’d just escaped from. She leaned against the cold wall, her body aching from the long trek. The bandages around her ribs felt tighter with each labored breath.

Harold surveyed the cavern, his eyes sharper now, taking in the subtle details in the stone and ground. “We’re getting close,” he said, his voice filled with a strange certainty.

“To what?” Claire asked, her gaze following his torchlight as it swept across the chamber. Her skin prickled with unease at how quiet it was.

“Home,” Harold muttered under his breath before adding, louder, “Or something like it.”

Elise shot him a look, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. “Don’t get sentimental. These are old tunnels—if this is what I think it is, no one’s used them in ages.”

Claire’s eyes darted between them. “Wait, how do you know all this?” she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity. “You seem… familiar with this place.”

Elise and Harold exchanged a brief glance, something unspoken passing between them.

“We grew up in places like this,” Harold admitted, his tone casual as he shined his torch ahead. “Not this exact tunnel, but we know Dvergar strongholds when we see them.”

“Dvergar strongholds?” Claire echoed, confusion crossing her face. Then it clicked—they were Dvergar. “Wait, you’re both…”

“Dvergar, yes,” Elise said, not waiting for Claire to finish. “Not everyone up top knows the signs, but down here, it’s in the stone. You learn to read it.”

Claire blinked, processing the information. She hadn’t considered the possibility, but it made sense. The way they moved underground, their knowledge of the tunnels, the way they spoke of strongholds with familiarity. It was all falling into place.

As if to prove Elise’s point, Harold pointed toward the far end of the cavern where the rocky surface was interrupted by something unnatural—a large metal-rimmed door, half-hidden by stalagmites. It was covered in dust and rust, but there was no mistaking the craftsmanship.

“That,” Harold said, a touch of pride in his voice, “is Dvergar work.”

Elise moved toward the door, her sharp eyes narrowing as she took in the markings. “Old, but still solid. This could be a sealed entry to an abandoned hold, or… worse.”

Claire stepped forward, her curiosity getting the better of her. She ran her hand over the cool metal, feeling the intricate carvings beneath her fingertips. “It’s… beautiful, in a way,” she muttered. “What does it say?”

“It’s not words,” Elise replied, kneeling to examine the symbols more closely. “These are defensive runes. Warding signs, mostly. Whoever left this didn’t want anything coming through.”

Harold nodded, his expression growing serious. “If we’re lucky, it’s empty. If not… well, let’s hope whatever they sealed in there didn’t find another way out.”

The door loomed over them, imposing and silent, the weight of its history pressing down on the group. Claire glanced between Harold and Elise, sensing a deeper connection to this place than they were letting on. It wasn’t just a random tunnel to them—it was part of their world.

“So… do we open it?” Claire asked, her voice hushed in the stillness of the cavern.

Elise stood up, her eyes scanning the dark passage behind them. “We don’t have much choice. We either go forward, or we go back into those thornlings.” She gave a small nod toward Harold. “Get it open. But stay sharp.”

Harold unslung his pack and pulled out a small tool, kneeling by the door. “It’ll take a moment, but I can get through this. The rust’s bad, but the structure’s strong.”

As Harold began working on the door, the cavern grew eerily silent again. Claire’s grip on her naginata tightened. The weight of the moment settled over her, the knowledge that they were stepping deeper into a world she barely understood.

And as they waited, the stillness of the cave felt less like shelter and more like a watchful presence, biding its time.

Harold’s torch flickered, casting uneven shadows on the stone walls as he worked at the large, rusted mechanism of the Dvergar door. The sound of his tools scraping against metal echoed through the cavern, the rhythmic clink and creak unsettling in the otherwise silent space. Claire stood just behind him, her eyes darting nervously between the door and the dark tunnel they’d come from.

“How much longer?” Elise asked quietly, her posture tense as she kept her gaze trained on the tunnel, clearly listening for any signs of the thornlings or worse.

“Almost there,” Harold muttered, his voice strained with focus. “This thing hasn’t been touched in centuries, but Dvergar craftsmanship holds up. A little more… and…”

With a final click, the door groaned as the mechanism gave way. The heavy, metal-rimmed structure shuddered before it began to swing open with a deep, resonating creak, revealing a dark void beyond.

A stale rush of air greeted them, carrying with it the scent of dust and earth long undisturbed. Harold stood up, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. “There we go. Welcome to the inside.”

“Let’s hope we weren’t followed,” Claire muttered, her grip tightening on her naginata as she peered into the darkness beyond the door. The unease that had settled in her chest earlier returned, heavier now that they were stepping into unknown territory.

Elise stepped forward first, her blade drawn and ready. “Stay close,” she warned, her voice barely above a whisper. “We don’t know what’s inside.”

The trio moved cautiously through the doorway, Harold’s torchlight flickering as it illuminated a narrow hallway that stretched into the distance. The walls were smooth, carved with the same intricate designs they’d seen on the door, but here, the craftsmanship was even more evident. Columns supported the ceiling at regular intervals, each one engraved with patterns that seemed to shimmer faintly in the dim light.

“Defensive runes, like the door,” Harold noted, his voice hushed. “They must’ve fortified this whole place.”

“Against what?” Claire asked, though part of her wasn’t sure she wanted the answer.

Elise didn’t respond, her sharp eyes scanning every corner as they moved deeper into the structure. The silence was oppressive, the weight of the old stone pressing down on them. Every step echoed, making the space feel larger and emptier than it probably was.

The hallway eventually opened up into a larger chamber, the walls of which were lined with crumbling stone benches and ancient, rusted weapon racks. A massive stone table dominated the center of the room, its surface worn smooth from time. Dust clung to everything, and it was clear this place had been abandoned for a long, long time.

Harold held his torch higher, his eyes wide with awe. “This was… this was a council room. A gathering place. It’s just like the old stories.”

Elise was less enthralled, her expression grim. “Which means we’re in the heart of an old hold. But it also means there could be traps. Stay sharp.”

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Claire’s attention, however, was drawn to the far side of the chamber, where a massive door—larger than the one they’d just passed through—loomed ominously in the shadows. Unlike the entrance, this door had no carvings or decorations. It was plain, solid, and seemed far more foreboding because of its simplicity.

“What’s behind that?” Claire asked, pointing with her naginata.

Harold’s gaze followed hers, and his face darkened. “I’m not sure. But whatever it is, it’s important enough to be sealed behind a door like that.”

Elise stepped forward, her brow furrowing. “We’re not opening that one just yet. We need to make sure this chamber is secure and figure out what we’re dealing with.”

Elise motioned for them to spread out, her keen eyes still scanning every corner of the chamber. Claire and Harold moved cautiously, each of them on edge as they explored the room.

Claire ran her fingers over the stone table in the center of the chamber. The surface was smooth but worn, grooves and scratches embedded in its surface from years of use. She could almost imagine the Dvergar council members sitting here, discussing matters long forgotten by the world above. The history of this place weighed on her, like a silent presence observing their every move.

Her fingers grazed the cold surface, its texture rough but worn smooth in places by hands long gone. The room felt heavy, almost alive, and there was a strange sense that the past hadn’t fully let go.

“It’s like we’ve stepped into a moment from the past,” she muttered under her breath. “Like if I squinted just the right way, I’d see it all happening again.”

Harold, on the far side of the room, was inspecting a crumbling weapon rack. He let out a low hum, his hand tracing the hilt of an ancient sword. “Out here, the past doesn’t stay buried,” he said after a moment, his tone quieter, more thoughtful than she was used to. “You live with it, like it’s always breathing down your neck.”

Claire met his gaze, something unspoken passing between them. The weight of this place wasn’t just history—it was something lingering, something that made the stones feel as though they remembered.

Elise’s sharp voice cut through the moment. “Enough reflection. This place may be abandoned, but we don’t know for how long. Secure the exits first, then we’ll figure out our next move.”

The tension in her tone was unmistakable. Elise wasn’t just concerned about traps or whatever might have driven the thornlings to chase them. There was something else—a deeper unease that she hadn’t voiced yet.

Claire’s gaze drifted back to the large door at the far end of the room. There was no mistaking the way it loomed over the space, stark and plain against the intricate carvings that decorated the rest of the chamber. Something about it didn’t sit right with her, like it was meant to keep something in rather than keeping others out.

Harold stepped toward the far door, his expression a mix of curiosity and caution. “Do you think… this could lead deeper? A vault, maybe?”

Elise shook her head, standing near one of the side entrances that led out of the council room. “We’re not touching that door. It’s sealed for a reason, and until we know what we’re dealing with, we won’t risk opening it.”

Claire felt a pull toward the door, like a whisper at the back of her mind telling her to investigate. She quickly shook it off, gripping her naginata tighter. This wasn’t the time for curiosity—not when they were still running for their lives.

Elise’s voice broke her concentration. “There’s a passage leading further in,” she said, her tone clipped as she stood by one of the smaller archways that branched off the chamber. “We’ll head down that way, but first, we need to decide how we’re going to proceed. We can’t stay here long.”

Harold nodded, adjusting the pack slung over his shoulder. “Agreed. This hold’s old, and I don’t trust these old tunnels to stay quiet for long.”

Elise moved back toward the center of the room, glancing at both Harold and Claire. “We’ll take a moment to rest, then move out. Keep your guard up. Something feels… off.”

The quiet of the chamber settled over them like a heavy blanket. Claire, Elise, and Harold sat close to the center of the room, their backs to the stone table as they took a moment to gather their breath and assess their next steps. The flickering torchlight cast long shadows across the walls, making the intricate carvings appear to move in the dim light.

Claire’s fingers drummed lightly against her naginata. Her mind was still buzzing from the tension of the past few hours. Every now and then, her gaze drifted back to the sealed door across the chamber, the heavy stone and metal seemingly indifferent to their presence.

“Do you really think something’s behind that?” Claire asked, breaking the silence as her eyes shifted to Elise.

Elise didn’t look up from where she sat sharpening her blade. Her movements were calm, methodical, the rasp of stone against metal the only sound for a long moment. “I’m not willing to find out,” she replied, her tone flat. “Not yet.”

Harold, perched on a low stone bench, was fumbling through his pack, pulling out dried rations and a small flask. “Whatever’s in here has been sealed for a reason,” he said, offering some of the food to Claire. “Best to leave it that way.”

Claire accepted the food, but her appetite had dwindled since entering the hold. Her eyes lingered on the food for a second before taking a small bite. The texture was dry, the taste bland, but it was enough to settle her nerves—if only slightly.

Harold chewed thoughtfully, his brow furrowing. “Still, we can’t stay here long. Even if those thornlings don’t follow us down, we’ve got no clue what else might be crawling through these tunnels.”

The silence that followed was palpable, tension woven into every word. They were safe for now, but the unknown dangers of the hold loomed over them like the cold stone walls.

“We move soon,” Elise said, breaking the silence as she finished with her blade. “We’ll head down the passage. If we’re lucky, it’ll lead to another exit, or at least someplace we can defend if things go south.”

Claire nodded, though she could feel the weight of exhaustion settling into her bones. It wasn’t just physical; it was the mental strain of always being on edge, of knowing that danger lurked around every corner. The uncertainty of Grimoria was starting to wear her down.

She glanced at Harold, who had gone back to rummaging through his pack. His usual easygoing demeanor had dimmed since they’d entered the hold. For once, he seemed more cautious, more wary.

Claire swallowed, her voice barely above a whisper. “Do you think we’ll make it out of here?”

Harold looked up at her, his eyes meeting hers for a brief second before he forced a grin. “We’ve made it this far, haven’t we?” He gave a small chuckle, though it lacked its usual lightness. “Stick with us, Claire. We’ve got a knack for surviving.”

Elise stood, slinging her blade over her shoulder and gesturing for them to do the same. “Let’s hope your knack holds up,” she muttered, her gaze flicking toward the dark passageway ahead. “Because we’re about to find out what’s waiting for us down there.”

The group had rested briefly, the weight of the old hold settling over them like a heavy cloak. Claire had remained close to the stone table, running her fingers over its worn surface one last time before following Harold and Elise toward the passage Elise had found.

The narrow hallway that branched off from the council room was darker, colder. The air felt different here—stagnant, untouched by time, as though whatever had once moved through these halls hadn’t stirred in centuries.

Claire’s naginata was firmly in her grip, her eyes scanning the walls as they moved. The silence of the space made her uneasy. There was no sound of wind, no echo of distant movement—just the soft shuffling of their feet as they walked deeper into the unknown.

“Do you feel that?” Claire asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Elise nodded, her sharp eyes focused on the path ahead. “The air’s wrong. This place has been sealed for too long. There shouldn’t be anything here… but it feels like something is.”

Harold, walking just ahead of them, glanced back over his shoulder, his brow furrowed. “There’s old magic in these tunnels. You can’t see it, but you can feel it—like the stone itself is watching.”

Claire felt a shiver crawl up her spine. She wasn’t sure if it was the cold or Harold’s words that made her uneasy. Maybe both. She tightened her grip on her weapon, feeling the familiar weight steady her nerves.

They moved further down the passage, the walls growing narrower and the ceiling lower. The only light came from Harold’s torch, casting flickering shadows against the stone. Every now and then, Claire would catch a glimpse of something in the carvings—faces, figures, twisted symbols that seemed to shift when she wasn’t looking directly at them.

“This place gives me the creeps,” Harold muttered, his voice low. “Even for Dvergar ruins, it feels… off.”

Elise didn’t respond, her gaze never wavering from the path ahead. Her hand remained on the hilt of her sword, ready for whatever might lie ahead.

Suddenly, the tunnel opened up into another chamber. This one was smaller than the last, with walls covered in the same intricate carvings they’d seen before, but something about this room was different. The air was heavier here, almost suffocating, and there was a faint hum in the air, like the distant thrum of energy.

In the center of the room stood a single stone pedestal. It was plain, unadorned, and on top of it rested a small, dark object—too far away for Claire to make out exactly what it was, but she could feel it. Something about that object radiated power, old and untouched, like it had been waiting for someone to find it.

Elise stepped forward cautiously, her eyes narrowing as she studied the pedestal. “We don’t touch anything until we know what we’re dealing with.”

Harold nodded, though his gaze was fixed on the object. “That thing… it doesn’t look like much, but I can feel it. There’s magic coming off it in waves.”

Claire hesitated, staring at the object from where she stood. Her fingers twitched against the naginata, a strange pull drawing her toward it, like an itch at the back of her mind. She swallowed hard, trying to shake the feeling.

“What is it?” Claire asked, her voice quiet.

Elise didn’t answer right away. She stepped closer, her eyes narrowing as she studied the object. “It’s… old,” she finally said. “Very old. Dvergar magic, maybe, or something else entirely. But whatever it is, it doesn’t belong here. Not anymore.”

Harold was already moving toward the pedestal, his curiosity getting the better of him. “I’ll just take a closer look—no touching, promise.”

Elise shot him a sharp look, but Harold waved her off, moving closer to the pedestal. He leaned down, peering at the object, his brow furrowing in concentration.

“It’s… a stone,” Harold said after a moment. “Or, at least, it looks like one. Dark, smooth, and it’s got some kind of symbol carved into it. Could be a power source, maybe a key to something else.”

Claire watched him, her unease growing. Something about this felt wrong, like they were disturbing something that had been meant to stay hidden.

Elise, sensing the same tension, stepped back from the pedestal. “We don’t touch it,” she said again, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Not until we know more.”

Harold nodded, though his gaze lingered on the stone for a moment longer before he stepped back. “Right. Let’s move on, then.”

But as they turned to leave, the faint hum in the air grew louder, and the ground beneath their feet trembled. The stone walls groaned, and dust rained down from the ceiling as the entire chamber seemed to shift, as if the ruins themselves were awakening.

“Move!” Elise shouted, grabbing Claire’s arm and pulling her toward the exit.

Harold was already ahead, sprinting toward the tunnel as the walls began to shake more violently. Claire’s heart pounded in her chest as she stumbled after them, her body screaming with exhaustion, but she forced herself to keep moving.

Behind them, the sound of stone grinding against stone filled the air, and Claire risked a glance over her shoulder. The pedestal had sunk into the ground, disappearing from view, and the walls seemed to ripple, the carvings shifting and twisting as if they were alive.

“What the hell was that?” Claire gasped as they finally reached the relative safety of the tunnel.

Elise didn’t answer right away, her breath coming in sharp bursts as she scanned the tunnel behind them. “We woke something up,” she said finally, her voice grim. “And whatever it is, it’s not going to let us leave easily.”

The passage beyond the council chamber narrowed, the smooth stone walls becoming rougher and more uneven as they ventured deeper into the ancient hold. The silence hung thick around them, broken only by the faint echoes of their footsteps. Harold held the torch aloft, casting flickering shadows that danced across the worn stone, while Elise led the way with her blade drawn, ever vigilant.

Claire followed closely, her heart beating steadily in her chest, but there was a nagging sense of unease she couldn’t shake. Every step seemed to pull them further into the unknown, and the weight of the hold’s history clung to her like the damp air. Her naginata felt heavy in her grip, but she welcomed the familiarity of its presence.

The path sloped downward again, becoming more treacherous as loose rocks crumbled underfoot. Harold cursed under his breath, stumbling slightly as the ground shifted beneath him.

“Watch your step,” Elise warned, her eyes scanning ahead.

As they navigated a narrow ledge along the side of a deep chasm, a sudden tremor shook the ground. The loose stones gave way beneath their feet, and before anyone could react, the ledge crumbled.

“Elise!” Harold shouted, grabbing for the wall as he slipped. His torch clattered to the ground, the light dimming as it rolled dangerously close to the edge of the chasm.

Elise moved fast, reaching for Harold just as the weight of his pack threw him off balance. She yanked him back, but the momentum sent both of them crashing into the side of the wall. Their weapons and packs slid across the rocky surface and disappeared into the darkness below.

Claire gasped, watching in horror as the last of their supplies vanished into the depths. “No!” she shouted, instinctively rushing forward, but she barely managed to catch herself before sliding over the edge.

Harold groaned, sitting up and rubbing his arm where he’d collided with the wall. “That’s not good,” he muttered, stating the obvious. His eyes darted to the chasm, where the last flicker of their torchlight vanished.

“We’ve lost everything,” Elise growled, her voice taut with frustration. She glanced back at Claire, her jaw set in a grim line. “Weapons, supplies, tools—gone.”

Claire swallowed hard, her heart racing as she looked between them. They were trapped deep underground, with no supplies, no light, and no way to defend themselves if something came after them.

For a moment, panic flared in Claire’s chest. They were stuck, and she didn’t know how to get them out of this mess. Then, almost as if something clicked into place, she remembered something—a distant part of her mind reminding her that she wasn’t entirely helpless.

Her inventory.

Her heart pounded as the realization hit her. She’d forgotten all about it—the strange system that had shown her a way to store things when she first arrived in Grimoria. She hadn’t used it since, not even in the heat of battle, but now… now it might be the only thing that could save them.

“Elise, Harold, wait,” Claire said, her voice steadying as the idea formed in her mind. “I think I can help.”

Both of them turned to her, surprise and skepticism evident on their faces.

“How?” Elise asked, her tone sharp. “We’ve lost everything. Unless you’ve been hiding an entire pack of supplies, we’re stuck.”

Claire took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment as she concentrated. She visualized the space in her mind where the inventory had appeared before—just like accessing a menu in a game. And there, waiting just as she remembered, were the few items she had stored away.

With a flicker of hope, Claire pulled a length of rope from her inventory, the rough texture of it materializing in her hands as if it had been there all along.

Elise and Harold stared at the rope in astonishment.

Harold blinked. “How… what… where did that come from?”

Claire gave them a sheepish smile. “I guess I forgot to mention… I can store things. Like this.” She held up the rope. “I didn’t think much of it at first, but… it’s a lot more useful than I realized.”

Elise raised an eyebrow, her eyes narrowing slightly. “That’s… not something I’ve seen before. Useful, but definitely strange.”

Claire nodded, not entirely sure how to explain it. “Yeah, I know. But right now, it’s what we need, right?”

Elise looked at her for a long moment, then gave a curt nod. “It’ll do.”

Harold glanced down into the chasm, his face still pale. “If we’re going to get our gear back, that’s our best shot.”

Claire moved quickly, tying the rope around a nearby sturdy outcropping of rock, her fingers fumbling slightly as her nerves flared. Harold took the rope from her, testing the strength of the knot before giving it a firm tug.

“It’s solid,” Harold said, giving Claire an appreciative nod. “Good thinking.”

Elise peered over the edge, her face set with determination. “I’ll go first. Harold, you follow. Claire, you stay up here and watch for anything.”

Claire nodded, stepping back as Elise took hold of the rope and began to lower herself into the chasm. The sight of her descending into the dark made Claire’s stomach tighten with anxiety, but she forced herself to stay calm.

“Stay sharp,” Elise called from below as she disappeared into the darkness. Harold followed soon after, his movements less graceful but just as determined.

Claire held her breath as they disappeared from view, the silence pressing in around her.