Ray's eyes darted between the ceiling and entrance. Understanding flickered—quick and terrified. "And if it doesn't?"
"It will," I said.
They shifted deeper towards one opening of the shelter, careful now, deliberate. Thomas scraped a loose stone against the wall—once, twice.
The sound cracked through the clearing.
The creature snapped toward it instantly, body twisting with unnatural speed. It reared, claws digging into the earth as it lunged toward the noise.
Its head pushed into the opening, snout scraping stone. One claw followed, then another, each digging in as it tried to drag its bulk forward.
The shelter groaned. A crack ran through the ceiling like a whispered warning.
Ray's breath caught.
"Now!" I said.
Ray went first, twisting sideways, shoulders scraping as he forced himself through the narrow exit. Thomas followed, feeling the roof tremble as the creature shoved harder, impatient now.
A deep crack split the air.
The stone gave way.
I lunged out just as the shelter collapsed inward—rock and soil crashing down in a choking cloud of dust. The sound was immense, final. Something beneath it shrieked, then went silent under the weight.
Behind them, the shelter was gone—flattened into rubble, but it was still trembling.
The spark faded back to a hum.
We didn't wait to see how long the trick would last.
We ran.
ROOOAR!
Then something roared.
We didn't slow down until our lungs burned.
Branches whipped past, rain-slick roots threatening to send us face-first into the dirt. Behind us, something moved—no longer crashing blindly, but adapting.
Its steps were uneven now, heavier on one side, yet relentless. The forest complained every time it passed through it.
It was still coming.
Ray nearly slipped, catching himself on a jut of stone. "Tom—"
"I see it."
The mountain rose ahead of us again, impossibly close, as though the forest had folded us back toward it on purpose. The slope steepened, trees thinning, stone breaking through soil in jagged veins.
Then Ray shouted, "There!"
It wasn't obvious at first. Just a split in the rock face, half-hidden behind hanging roots and a curtain of moss. But air moved there—cold, dry air, spilling outward in a steady breath that didn't belong to the storm.
A cave.
We didn't question it.
We dove inside as a shrill screech tore through the forest behind us. The creature burst into view just as we crossed the threshold—its claws skidding against stone, its bulk slamming forward with desperate force.
The entrance was narrower than it looked.
Too narrow.
Its head forced partway in, jaws snapping, claws gouging deep furrows into the rock. The sound was unbearable—stone screaming against claw, breath hissing through teeth that didn't fit together right.
Then it stopped pushing.
The creature backed out slowly, retreating just enough to settle at the mouth of the cave. Its silhouette blocked the stormlight entirely. It didn't leave.
It waited.
Ray slid down the wall, shaking. "It's… it's camping us."
"For now," I said, though my voice felt far away. "We bought time."
The cave sloped downward, widening just enough that the darkness swallowed sound. Each step pulled us farther from the creature's breath scraping the entrance.
That was when Ray stopped.
"Tom," he said quietly. "Look."
Set into the cave floor was something unnatural—too smooth, too deliberate.
A circular marking, etched deep into the stone. It had a ragged crack down its diameter separating it into two parts, one of which seemed to be bleeding.
Beyond it, the tunnel opened suddenly into a broad chamber—a kind of antechamber, carved cleanly from the mountain itself.
The ceiling arched high above us, smooth and deliberate, untouched by roots or decay.
On the far wall, symbols stretched from floor to ceiling, vast and incomplete, as if meant to be read by something larger than us. Beneath them, words—fractured, eroded, barely legible:
"They sought to feel, and in feeling, they hollowed themselves. Those who reach too deep leave only echoes of their wanting. Here, desire becomes absence, and absence becomes memory."
Ray's voice dropped. "This was… built?"
I didn't answer.
Far behind us, at the cave's mouth, stone groaned as something large shifted its weight and settled in.
Waiting.
And deep within the mountain, something else stirred—not alive, not dead, but unfinished.