Page 86 of What Beats Within the Tunnels

“You all cower here, devoid of your magic. Outside this refuge, you wouldn’t stand a chance against us,” Colton taunts. “You’ve become nothing more than lost, delusional Sorcerers, trailing behind a madman who’s lost his power.”

My chuckle reverberates eerily off the cave walls.

One of the Sorcerers steps forward, a malicious look in his eyes. “Don’t think we’ll end you swiftly. We intend to make a show of it, especially with your precious princess.”

“Yes, I think we should make them watch while we take turns playing with her,” another says. Dark rage forms within me. Oh, he’s definitely the first one I’m taking down.

The smug Sorcerer’s words linger in the air, echoing faintly off the cave walls. A surge of anger courses through me, further fueled by Colton’s low growl.

Without hesitation, I charge at the taunting Sorcerer, our blades clashing with a resounding clang. He’s agile, but I’ve sparred with better. On the slick cave floor, our violent dance commences – each move, each step calculated to wound or incapacitate.

In my peripheral vision, Lyra engages with two adversaries. One attempts a swift lunge, but she counters with her impressive sword, its blade gleaming in the dim light. Her movements are solid. She’s certainly learned a few things in my absence.

Colton, however, faces overwhelming odds. Three Sorcerers close in on him. He navigates the space with a unique brutality, leveraging the rock formations. Suddenly, one Sorcerer makes a bold move. He dives into the water, attempting to use it as a cover to strike from beneath. But Colton anticipates this, throwing a dagger that pierces the water, producing a muffled cry.

Yet, as I deflect and parry, a realization hits me. These Sorcerers, even without their magic, aren’t entirely defenseless. They’re using the cave’s acoustics, the misleading echoes, to disorient us.

An unexpected pain sears through my leg. My opponent has managed a shallow cut. This fleeting victory on his part only fuels my resolve. With a feigned leftward lunge, I shift forward, sinking my dagger deep into his thigh. His agonized scream fills the chamber, but I’ve no time to savor the triumph, as another one approaches.

Lyra’s fierce battle cry resonates as she dispatches one of her attackers. But her moment of dominance is fleeting. The remaining Sorcerer sees an opening, exploiting it to slice her arm. Blood stains her leather attire, the wound superficial but enough to stagger her momentarily. Sensing her vulnerability, he moves in for the kill, but Colton intervenes just in time, his blade meeting the Sorcerer’s in a powerful clash.

Away from the immediate fray, my eyes are drawn to Samael. He stands aloof on a raised platform, gawking with relish despite his evident weakness. He’s holding the grimoire, probably ready to flee with it like a coward.

Amid the cacophony of clashing blades and cries, I engage another Sorcerer. We circle one another slowly, our intentions clear. A sudden shout captures my attention.

“The grimoire!” It’s Colton, having managed to get close to Samael. Despite his weakened state, Samael isn’t helpless. He produces a dagger, charging at Colton, their clash intense, desperate, and utterly chaotic.

Gradually, the tide turns in our favor. One by one, the Sorcerers are defeated, until only Samael remains, cornered and outnumbered.

Breathing heavily, weapons slick with the remnants of battle, we close in on him, intent on concluding this conflict and securing the grimoire for Lyra.

She speaks first. “Samael, hand over my grimoire. It’s done.” She’s gasping for breath, her face pale but resolute.

Samael’s lips curl into a wicked smirk. “As you wish, little bird,” he sneers, flinging the book toward her with a flourish. As she catches it, a sudden, unsettling transformation begins. Her fingers tremble violently, and from the book, a searing light erupts, threatening to consume everything around it. The very walls of the cavern respond, shuddering as if alive, a symphony of vibration and dread.

“You damned fools!” Samael’s laughter, twisted and unhinged, rips through the cavern, but my entire focus is on Lyra. Every instinct in me screams to help her, but when Colton lunges to wrench the book from her, I stop him.

“Don’t you dare touch her!” My voice comes out sharper than I intend.

“She’s in pain, Nyx! Can’t you see?” Colton’s desperation echoes my own, but there’s a gnawing thought in the back of my mind.

“Just...wait,” I force the words out, my heart pounding. “Maybe... Maybe this is meant to be.”

Before I can process the implications, a tremendous quake threatens to tear the cavern apart. Lyra, the epicenter of it all, collapses, the grimoire slipping from her limp grasp. The world seems to slow, every minute detail etched into my memory. Her fall echoes the haunting image of Z’s lifeless form— a memory I’ve fought to bury. It’s paralyzing.

Colton, frantic, reaches her first, shaking her gently, desperately searching for signs of life. I’m beside her a split second later, my world teetering on the edge of oblivion. And then, the gentle rise and fall of her chest—she’s breathing…she’s alive.

Chapter 31

Lyra

The moment the book brushes against my fingers, a sharp jolt of pain surges through my hands, radiating upward. This isn’t right, isn’t how one should feel upon touching the grimoire. The searing sensation snakes its way up my arms, causing them to tremble uncontrollably. When it reaches my heart, I gasp, overwhelmed by a feeling of constriction. Without warning, a blinding light erupts from the book. The earth seems to tremble beneath me, though I can’t discern if it’s my own quaking limbs or the ground itself.

My gaze locks with Colton’s, his expression clouded with alarm. Then I seek out Nyx, and in that split second the world tilts, sending me plummeting toward the ground. I don’t recall the impact of hitting the ground. Instead, it feels like an endless descent with a gentle darkness wrapping around me. It’s unexpectedly comforting, reminiscent of being nestled within the plush embrace of the softest blanket. My senses are sharp, every nuance of sound and sensation amplified to an incredible degree. But the solitude is short-lived. In a heartbeat, I realize I’m not alone and have fallen into somewhere serene.

The beauty of this garden contrasts sharply with the danger of the purple nightshades, creating an eerie ambience. As I stand amidst the towering plants, the peculiar sky casts a dusky haze over the entire scene. It’s hauntingly beautiful.

From the shadowed corners of the garden, a figure begins to emerge. Her movement is graceful, yet there’s a distinct power in her step. “Lyra,” her voice resonates, soft yet commanding. The very air seems to hum at the sound of her voice.