The ground is stone.
Then it isn’t.
My foot sinks through something that shouldn’t exist, and I’m falling—except I’m not. I catch myself on nothing. Literally nothing. My hand goes right through where a wall should be.
I pull back fast.
Okay. Okay. The ground changes. Don’t trust it. Got it.
Except I don’t got it, because I have no idea where I am or how to get out, and the darkness here isn’t just dark—it moves. Breathes. I can feel it watching.
Something brushes my ankle.
A sound rips out of me—half gasp, half squeal—pure instinct. I jerk away, stumbling, skin crawling where it touched.
Not a touch. Worse. Like cold breath solidified. Like fingers that aren’t fingers.
My heart slams against my ribs, but there’s nowhere to go. Everywhere I turn, the black presses closer, and underneath it—
Things.
I can’t see them. Can’t hear them. But I know they’re there. Circling. The way you know something’s behind you in the dark even when you can’t prove it.
My hands are shaking.
I take a step. Stone again. Then nothing. Then something that crunches but leaves no sound.
Move, my brain screams.Don’t stop moving.
But move where? There’s no direction here. No light. Just black and more black and the certainty that if I run, the things circling will chase.
Or stop, something whispers.Just stop. Let go.
That voice is new. Quieter than the panic, but heavier.
I shake my head hard, trying to clear it. Bad idea. The world tilts sideways, and for a second I’m falling again—not through space, through something thicker.
When everything steadies, there’s light ahead.
Silver. Moving.
I stare at it, not trusting anything in this place.
The light curves through the black like—like liquid. It leaves glowing trails that fade almost immediately. It takes me too long to understand what I’m seeing.
A snake.
Silver scales catching light that shouldn’t exist here. Eyes that reflect… something. I don’t know what, but looking at them makes my head hurt.
I’ve never seen it before, but somehow it doesn’t surprise me. Nothing surprises me anymore in this place.
It glides past me—not toward me, past—cutting a path through the darkness. Where it moves, the shadows pull back.
The circling things retreat.
I really don’t trust it.
But when I stand still, something brushes the back of my neck. Closer than before. Close enough that I can feel the shape of teeth that haven’t bitten.
