“It is not a corpse,” Travnyk murmurs. “It is living architecture.”
“Because that makes it oh so much better,” Tomas mutters.
The opening widens a fraction more—as if inviting. As if beckoning. Rakkh shifts closer to me. His voice is barely audible.
“It moves for you.”
“Or for anyone,” I whisper.
He shakes his head once.
“No. It responds when you touch it. When you breathe near it,” he says, jaw tightening. “When it hears your voice.”
“I didn’t give it my voice,” I say, a chill prickling along my spine.
“Yes,” he rumbles, stepping nearer so our shoulders almost brush. “You did.”
We stare at the corridor together.
“You do not go in alone,” he says quietly.
“I wasn’t planning to.”
He turns to fully face me. The firelight flickers across his scales. His eyes soften—not losing their danger, but reshaping it.
“You stay behind me. Always.” He pauses, then lower, softer, he adds, “Please.”
The breath leaves my body in a shaky exhale. Rakkh is not a creature who begs or asks. Yet here he is—asking me to let him protect me.
“Okay,” I whisper. “I stay behind you.”
The tension in his shoulders eases. Only slightly, but it’s enough that I feel it.
A new sound echoes—softer than the knocking. A hum. Musical. Melodic. Almost like a lullaby sung underwater. The metal veins along the walls pulse in rhythm.
“It sings,” Travnyk says, voice soft with hushed reverence.
“No,” Rakkh growls. “It warns.”
The humming grows louder—a resonance that vibrates inside my chest. The air warms. The passage brightens. And suddenly—I smell it.
Burnt ozone. Metal rot.
The same scent as the poisoned plants. The same scent as the creatures.
“Oh stars,” I breathe. “Rakkh—it’s connected. The creatures. The poison. The crash. It’s all connected.”
“Then we will see what it hides,” Rakkh says, flexing his claws.
Tomas makes a distressed sound.
“Or we don’t. Let’s consider not, for once?—”
But Travnyk has already stepped to the threshold of the unfurled passage, eyes wide.
“It waits,” he murmurs.
Rakkh steps forward. But his hand—warm and steady—finds my waist first. Not gripping. Not dragging. Guiding. Protecting.
