The crawlspace narrowed again.
The soil tightened around them like a throat swallowing slowly, trying
to decide whether to crush or release them. Irvine dragged the lantern
forward with one hand, the other locked firmly around Inara's wrist.
He didn't speak.
Couldn't.
Because every sound he made echoed too far.
Too loud.
Too hungry.
And he had a sickening feeling the Groom listened to echoes more closely
than footsteps.
Inara crawled close behind him, her rapid breaths brushing the back of
his neck. The tremble in her fingers never stopped—but she never once
let go of him.
The tunnel curved left, then dipped sharply downward.
Irvine paused.
"Inara… careful. There might—"
His sentence died.
The walls around them vibrated.
Not from footsteps.
From a heartbeat.
A heartbeat too deep, too heavy, too old to belong to anything human.
Irvine looked over his shoulder.
Inara froze mid-crawl, her eyes wide, reflecting the lantern flame.
"That isn't yours," she whispered.
"No," Irvine said.
The heartbeat pulsed again—
this time stronger.
BOOM.
The soil above them shifted, dust raining from the ceiling. Something
massive moved in sync with that rhythm—
like the entire bunker was shaped from a dead beast's ribcage.
BOOM.
Third pulse.
Then—
A soft scrape.
A sound so faint it felt like cold fingers brushing the back of Inara's
ankle.
She jerked forward with a gasp. Irvine caught her before she slammed
into the lantern.
"Inara—what touched you?"
She shook her head too violently. "I don't know, I don't—"
Scrape.
The sound came again.
This time from *inside* the earth behind her.
Irvine didn't think—
he grabbed her waist and yanked her forward.
"Inara, MOVE—!"
They crawled faster, hands digging into dirt, knees scraping rocks,
breaths ragged.
The scrape followed.
Closer.
Faster.
Matching the beat of the ancient heart beneath the earth.
BOOM.
Scrape.
BOOM.
Scrape.
BOOM—
STOP.
Silence.
Dead, absolute silence.
Inara froze mid-crawl.
"Irvine…?"
He grabbed her hand.
"Don't turn around."
Her voice cracked. "Something's behind me."
"I know."
"It's breathing on my back."
"I know."
"It's close."
"I know—Inara, GO."
She forced her hands forward, crawling blindly as the lantern flickered,
its flame thinning like it was being inhaled by the darkness behind them.
Irvine pulled her, shoving her ahead of him.
But then—
the lantern dimmed.
Then dimmed again.
Until only a faint blue glow remained.
"Inara—stop."
He grabbed her shoulder.
The flame was shrinking into a single blue dot.
He'd seen this before.
Back at the bunker door.
When the Groom moved close.
"Inara… he's here."
The blue flame blew out.
Darkness swallowed them.
Inara's breath hitched into a sharp whimper.
Then—
A whisper slithered between them.
"…bride…"
Inara's scream tore the tunnel in half.
Instinct kicked in—Irvine lunged forward, wrapping his arms around her
and rolling them both sideways, shielding her body with his own as the
earth shook violently.
The whisper deepened behind them, a voice scraping bone—
"Do not hide.
This soil remembers all its brides."
The crawlspace shuddered again, cracking open in a line right beside
them. A gust of freezing air blasted through, carrying a scent of burnt
lace and wilted flowers.
Irvine tightened his grip on her, chest pressed to her back, grounding
her trembling body with every breath.
"Inara—listen to me," he whispered fiercely. "Keep your eyes shut. Do
NOT let him see them."
Her voice shook violently. "Irvine—he's—he's touching the ground—he
knows EXACTLY where we are—"
"I know. But he can't drag you out unless you LOOK at him. Stay with me."
The voice hummed again from behind the crack.
"…my bride…"
Irvine reached blindly in the darkness until his hand grazed the lantern.
He slammed the flint wheel with his thumb.
Sparks leapt—
once, twice, on the third strike—
A tiny flame returned.
Just enough to see—
A long, pale hand retreating into the crack.
Its nails dragging slow, deliberate lines into the dirt as if savoring
the moment.
The Groom wasn't rushing.
He was teasing.
Playing.
Choosing.
Inara curled into Irvine, shaking violently.
He lifted her chin gently.
"I'm right here. Look at me."
"You—heard it, right? You heard his voice—?"
"I did," he whispered.
"But he didn't take you."
She swallowed hard. "Why?"
Thud.
The tunnel ceiling above them groaned.
Cracks spread like spiderwebs.
Irvine exhaled sharply.
"Because he's not finished."
The lantern flame flickered dangerously again.
Not from lack of fuel—
from emotion.
Fear.
The Groom fed on it.
And Inara had screamed.
Irvine grabbed both sides of her face, forcing her to meet his eyes.
"Inara. Inara, listen. Screaming makes him stronger. He feeds on it.
You have to hold on to me, okay? Don't give him another sound. Not one."
She nodded, tears streaking down her cheeks.
"I—I didn't mean to. He was right behind me—"
"I know."
His voice cracked, the first fracture in his composure tonight.
"And hearing you scream almost killed me."
Her breath faltered.
His thumb swept under her eye, removing a tear.
"Stay with me," he whispered. "I can't lose you. Not in this place. Not
to him."
The earth moaned above them—
like a massive weight dragging itself along the surface of the tunnel.
The Groom was pacing.
Waiting.
Measuring how much fear she had left.
Irvine's hand slid from her cheek to her back.
Then—
He pulled her against him, chest to chest in the cramped soil, letting
her hear his heartbeat—steady and furious.
"Match my breathing," he whispered into her temple.
"He can chase your fear. He can't chase your calm."
She clung to him.
Her breaths aligned with his—
slow, controlled, synchronized.
For a moment, they became one shape in the dark.
BOOM.
The ancient heartbeat pulsed again beneath the ground.
But this time…
the scrape did NOT follow.
Inara's trembling stopped.
Irvine felt it.
He cupped the back of her head, gently pressing her forehead to his.
"That's it," he whispered. "You're doing it. You're fighting him back."
A crack suddenly split the ceiling above them—
but instead of reaching for Inara—
The Groom retreated.
Step by step.
The tunnel exhaled the cold he left behind.
Inara gasped, pressing closer to Irvine.
"He—he left…"
"For now," Irvine murmured.
"Why?"
He tightened his hold on her.
"Because he realized something."
"W…what?"
Irvine brushed his thumb over her lips, steadying her breath again.
"You scream for him—
but you breathe for me."
And the Groom hated that.
Hated that Irvine still had that much power over her.
The lantern flickered.
The tunnel trembled.
And both of them knew—
This was no retreat.
This was the Groom stepping back
to prepare the next move.
Because the ceremony was coming.
And the altar was near.
But even as the Groom's presence faded from above the tunnel, Inara's
scream didn't.
It lingered.
Not in the air—
but in the soil around them.
Like the earth itself had recorded it.
A faint, ghostlike echo trembled through the crawlspace:
"…Irvine—!"
Inara jerked, eyes widening.
"That—that was me—"
"No." Irvine tightened his grip on her shoulders. "Listen."
The echo repeated, but this time, the tone shifted—
higher, thinner, stretched by something that didn't understand human emotion.
"…Irviiine…"
Inara covered her mouth, trembling violently.
"That's *not* me."
"I know," Irvine whispered, pulling her arms away from her face gently.
"It's mimicking you."
Her breath broke. "Why—?"
His jaw tightened.
"Because it wants me to run toward the wrong sound."
A new crack split the soil above them.
A single drop of cold water dripped onto Inara's neck.
Except it wasn't water.
It was warm.
Sticky.
Dark.
She touched it—
looked at her finger—
Blood.
Her chest locked.
"Irvine—blood is coming from the ceiling—why is there blood—?"
Irvine pulled her into his chest, shielding her head, voice harsh with
urgency:
"Inara—don't look up."
"But—"
"Do. Not. Look."
She buried her face against him—
but the blood kept dripping, steady, rhythmic, almost ritualistic.
As if something above them was bleeding on purpose.
A blessing.
Or a claim.
Irvine pressed his palm to the ceiling.
The stone pulsed beneath his hand—
like a heartbeat under skin.
"Inara…" he whispered.
She felt the tension in his muscles. "What is it?"
"This isn't ceiling."
He swallowed.
"It's his altar. It's *under* us."
A slow horror spread through her chest.
They weren't crawling away from the Groom.
They were crawling **toward** him.
Closer with every inch.
Her breath stuttered.
"Irvine… what if that scream gave him something? What if I—"
"Stop." Irvine cupped her face again, voice sharp, steadying.
"You didn't give him anything. He *stole* it. And that means he's getting desperate."
"Desperate?"
"Yes."
His thumb brushed her cheek.
"Because the ceremony needs your fear. And you're learning how to take it back."
Another throb shook the earth.
But this time—
the vibration pulled *away* from them, like something massive dragging
its body deeper into the bunker.
Moving to prepare the next room.
The next stage.
The next vow.
Irvine took Inara's hand and pressed it flat against his chest.
"Feel that?"
His heartbeat—
as furious as a war drum,
as steady as a vow.
"That's the only thing you follow," he murmured.
"Not echoes. Not whispers. Not him."
Her eyes shimmered. "Irvine…"
He leaned his forehead to hers, breathing with her until her pulse
matched his again.
Then—
The tunnel BREATHED.
A long inhale.
A rumble.
A shift beneath their knees.
Inara gripped him hard.
"Irvine—the ground is—"
"I know."
The soil rolled like a wave, pushing them forward several inches.
Not randomly.
Deliberately.
Herding them.
Inara's voice cracked. "He—he's guiding us."
"Yes."
"To where?"
Irvine met her terrified gaze.
"To the next room."
The lantern flickered again—
And the tunnel ahead of them slowly widened, revealing a narrow stairwell
descending into darkness.
A new chamber.
A new stage.
The altar's next breath.
Irvine brushed dirt from Inara's cheek and whispered:
"We move now. Before he changes the path again."
She nodded, trembling but determined.
Together, they crawled toward the stairwell—
into the deeper dark—
as the last echo of her stolen scream faded into the soil.