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The faint light of the moon filtered through the cracks above, casting pale beams onto the rough stone floor. Jonah and Elara stood frozen, their chests heaving, their breaths visible in the cold night air. Behind them, the twisted creatures clawed at the rusted gate, their hollow faces pressed between the iron bars, emitting guttural screeches that reverberated through the tunnel.
Jonah turned to Elara, his voice low but firm. “We need to keep moving. The map says there’s an opening ahead, an old service tunnel that should lead us out.”
Elara nodded, clutching her dagger tightly. “Let’s go. Before they find another way around.”
They pressed forward, stepping cautiously over uneven stones and avoiding the deep puddles of stagnant water that filled the cracks in the floor. The narrow tunnel stretched endlessly before them, the faint moonlight gradually giving way to oppressive darkness once more.
The silence was almost worse than the sounds of pursuit. Every drip of water, every faint shuffle of stone, made Jonah flinch.
“Do you think... Do you think Draven knows we’re down here?” Elara asked quietly.
Jonah hesitated before answering. “I think he knows everything that happens in this fortress.”
The truth of his words settled heavily between them.
The tunnel eventually opened into a larger chamber—a cavern with a ceiling so high it vanished into darkness. Massive roots, gnarled and twisted, hung down from above, their tips dipping into shallow pools of water.
In the center of the cavern sat an ancient stone archway, partially collapsed and covered in moss and glowing fungal growths. The runes etched into its surface were faint but still visible, their curves sharp and alien.
Elara stepped closer, her voice barely a whisper. “This isn’t on the map, Jonah.”
Jonah unrolled the parchment, squinting at the faded ink. The map ended before this cavern, leaving them without direction.
“What is this place?” he asked.
“The arch...” Elara’s voice trailed off as she reached out to touch the carvings.
“Don’t!” Jonah said sharply.
But it was too late. Elara’s fingers brushed against the stone, and the arch pulsed with a faint light. A low hum vibrated through the air, and the pools of water began to ripple outward.
From the shadows beyond the arch, a figure emerged.
It was tall—unnaturally so—and draped in tattered robes that seemed to shimmer in and out of existence. Its face was hidden beneath a hood, but two faint pinpricks of light glowed where eyes should have been.
“Travelers...” the figure said, its voice a chorus of whispers layered over one another. “Why have you come to the Threshold?”
Elara stepped back, her hand trembling on her dagger.
“We—we’re trying to escape,” Jonah said, his voice cracking.
The figure tilted its hooded head slightly. “Escape? From him? The one who wears shadows and speaks with the voice of hunger?”
Jonah’s stomach turned. “Draven.”
The figure’s faint eyes flared brighter for a moment. “He cannot follow you here, not fully. But neither can you linger. The Threshold is not a place for the living.”
Elara spoke up, her voice trembling. “Please... is there another way out? A path he cannot follow?”
The figure raised one long, skeletal hand and gestured toward a narrow opening on the far side of the cavern.
“There lies your path,” it said. “But beware, for the way is treacherous, and the price of freedom is steep.”
Jonah felt a chill crawl up his spine. “What price?”
The figure’s lightless gaze fixed on him. “The Threshold does not allow passage without sacrifice. One must remain to seal the gate behind you.”
Silence fell over the cavern. The weight of the words pressed down on Jonah and Elara like a physical force.
“No,” Jonah said immediately. “There has to be another way.”
“There is no other way,” the figure replied. “The gate must be sealed, or he will follow. And if he follows... your world will crumble.”
Elara’s lips trembled as she turned to Jonah. “There has to be something we can do. Some way to avoid this.”
Jonah’s mind raced, his chest tight with fear and frustration. But deep down, he knew the figure was telling the truth.
The path forward required a sacrifice.
They sat at the edge of the cavern, their voices hushed as they discussed their impossible choice.
“I’ll do it,” Elara said suddenly.
Jonah’s head snapped up. “No. Absolutely not. You’ve done too much already. If anyone should stay, it’s me.”
Elara’s eyes were hard, determined. “Jonah, you’re the one who can stop Draven. You’re the one he’s afraid of. If you don’t make it out, everything we’ve done will be for nothing.”
Jonah clenched his fists. “I can’t leave you behind, Elara.”
Her hand rested gently on his cheek. “You have to.”
Tears welled in Jonah’s eyes as he realized there was no arguing with her.
The figure at the arch waited silently, watching the two of them with its unblinking lightless eyes.
Finally, Jonah rose and walked to the far opening. Elara followed him, stopping just at the threshold.
“Go, Jonah. End this. For all of us.”
Jonah stepped into the opening, his heart breaking with every step.
Behind him, Elara turned back to the archway.
The figure raised its skeletal hand, and a blinding light filled the cavern.
Jonah stumbled forward, shielding his eyes as the ground trembled beneath his feet.
When the light faded, and the world stilled, Jonah stood alone in a narrow tunnel. The path ahead was clear, but behind him, the way was gone—sealed forever.
Tears streamed down his face as he whispered, “Goodbye, Elara.”
He turned and pressed forward into the darkness, carrying the weight of her sacrifice with every step.
Ahead, faintly in the distance, he saw it—the first glimmer of true daylight.
But he knew his fight was far from over.