The impact is immediate. The beast convulses, its entire body lurching backward as flames explode from deep inside it. It screeches—a sound so shrill, so deafening that I clap my hands over my ears as my pulse thunders in my skull.
The flames sear through the inside of its mouth, I can see the heat ripples through the tunnel walls as it writhes.
It clamps its maw shut. The firelight dims. Smoke billows from its mouth, seeping through its teeth, curling from the cracks in its ridged body. It moves forward again. Slower this time, like it’s wounded—but still coming.
Thane lifts his hand—ready to strike—
But Valen’s voice cuts through the firelight and chaos. Sharp. Commanding.
“Stop! Stop—NOW!”
Thane jerks his head toward him, fire still crackling in his palm. “We have to—”
“No! Listen to me!” Valen snaps. “We’re in an enclosedtunnel! Fire will eat the oxygen before it kills that thing! Unless you all want to suffocate, put it out—NOW!”
Jarek and Garrick exchange tense glances, their flames still burning, but Valen steps forward, his voice edged with urgency.
“The air is already thinning. You feel it, don’t you?”
And I do. I hadn’t noticed at first, too focused on the fight. But now—my breaths are coming shorter, shallower. The flames flickering around us are pulling from the same air we need to breathe.
Garrick curses, flicking his fingers. His flames vanish instantly.
Jarek hesitates. His fire lingers—embers flickering in his palm. But he sees it too: the light dimming, struggling for fuel. With a frustrated growl, he extinguishes it.
The tunnel plunges into near-darkness. The only light comes from the five small fire orbs still hovering around us.
The worm creature’s teeth click together, the last remnants of smoke curling from its scorched mouth. It surges forward again, its nightmare maw opening wide.
Thane draws his sword, the steel catching the flickering firelight. The others follow—but it’s useless. The creature fills the entire passageway. Its body grinds against both walls, pressing into the earthen ceiling, cutting off any space to maneuver. There’s no way to get around it, no way to reach anything vulnerable.
And in front of us, a mouthful of teeth. A circular maw, gnashing and clicking, filled with rows upon rows of jagged, uneven fangs, spiraling endlessly inward.
There’s nowhere to strike. No exposed throat. No soft underbelly. No weak point we can reach. Just teeth . . . everywhere.
Rian steps forward. Water ripples into his palms. He shapes it—jagged spears—then sends them flying into the monster’sgaping maw.
The first strike lands. Then another. The water spears slams into the creature, forcing it to hesitate, its massive body twisting unnaturally, its jagged teeth clicking together in agitation.
But Rian doesn’t stop. He swipes his hands—water surges forward, slamming into the beast’s ridged hide. It stumbles, shrieking. The tunnel rattles with its cry.
Rian presses forward. Another flick of his wrist—a torrent of water hammers into the side of the worm demon, aiming for the weakened, charred sections of its flesh where the fire had burned through. The impact sends a shudder through the creature’s enormous body, its movements slower now, unsteady.
“It’s working!” Lyra shouts.
Rian doesn’t hesitate, lifting both hands. More water gathers, swirling violently, shaping into something larger, heavier—then the tunnel groans. A low, deep rumbling vibrates through the ground beneath us.
I feel it before I hear it. The earth is shifting. The walls tremble, small bits of dirt raining from the ceiling. A few loose stones drop to the floor, rolling against my boots.
Rian doesn’t notice at first—he’s too focused on his next attack.
Valen’s voice cuts through the space like a blade. “Rian, stop!”
Rian turns sharply, confusion flickering in his expression. “What? I almost—”
Valen snaps. “You’re destabilizing the tunnel!”
A chunk of earth cracks loose from the ceiling, hitting the ground with a heavy thud.
