The way he says it means I don’t understand what that word means in this context. Another crash behind us. Closer. The tunnel trembles. A deeper fracture forms through the stone as something forces its way into a space it was never meant to fit.
Dust fills the air. The sound isn’t mechanical. It’s not precise. It’s not controlled like the drones or the figures in the rock. It must be alive.
“We need to go faster,” I say, even as my lungs burn.
He doesn’t answer, but he increases the pace, pushing deeper into the tunnel. We move into darker, tighter spaces where the air is cooler and thinner. The outside world disappears completely except for the sounds of the thing behind us.
It doesn’t stop. Doesn’t slow. It follows. And whatever it is, it’s not tracking us. It’s coming straight through everything in its way.
The tunnel narrows, not enough to stop us, but enough to slow us down. His grip tightens around my wrist as he forces me ahead of him. It’s clear what he’s thinking. Protect. Always that.
Another impact behind us is followed by a tearing sound that doesn’t belong underground. Stone doesn’t sound like that when it breaks. This scrapes, drags, and forces its way forward. I don’t look back. I don’t need to. I can feel it.
The ground trembles harder. A crack splits the wall to my left as something slams into it from the other side. Dust bursts, filling the air. I flinch. He doesn’t.
“Faster.”
I push. My legs protest, the earlier exhaustion still there, still real, but buried under terror and the urge to survive.
The tunnel bends tight and sharp. I turn into it and stop. The path narrows into a choke point where the rock has collapsed leaving just enough space to squeeze through one at a time. I’m sure I can get through, but he’s a lot bigger.
“Go,” he says behind me.
I want to argue, but there’s no time and no point. I turn sideways and push my way in. Stone scrapes my shoulder, my hip, the rough edges catch on fabric and skin as I force my way through. Behind me the sound changes. No longer distant or muffled. It’s closer. So damn close. It’s almost on us.
I break through the other side, stumbling forward into a slightly wider pocket of the tunnel, and catch myself against the wall. Iturn back, looking for Kaelreth. He’s halfway through the choke point when the wall behind him explodes. Not outward. In.
Stone fractures in a violent burst. Rock and dust tear through the narrow passage as something forces its way through the tunnel instead of around it.
My breath rips out as a limb punches through. It’s long, angular, and wrapped in something that isn’t quite flesh and isn’t quite metal. It hooks. Pulls. Then the rest of it follows.
The head forces through, pushing rock aside as if it’s nothing more than sand. The head is narrow and sharp. One side of its face catches the dim light, reflecting, then it turns. A single eye glows red. Not searching, locking onto me.
I’m frozen for half a second, just long enough for it to matter. It moves, not at him, at me.
Fast. So damn fast.
Something lashes out from beneath its jaw. It’s thin, metallic, and barely visible until it’s already in motion. It wraps around my ankle and before I register that fully, it yanks. I go down, hitting the ground.
It knocks my breath out. I’m being dragged across the stone. I fight, trying to get my feet under me. To find some purchase, but there’s nothing.
“Kael—”
I don’t finish because he’s already there. The space between us disappears in an instant. He closes his hand on my arm, anchoring against the pull.
The line tightens. The thing on the other end pulls harder. I whimper in pain, but notice that the force is wrong. Too steady and controlled. It’s not a wild tug. I slide another inch closer. Then another.
I dig my free heel into the ground, clawing at the stone with my hands, trying to find purchase, but nothing holds.
“It’s not trying to kill me,” I gasp.
The realization is obvious. It’s not tearing or crushing, just pulling.
“Capture,” he says.
He shifts his grip, not just holding me, but positioning. He steps into the pull instead of away from it, getting himself between the thing and me like he’s cutting the line shorter instead of fighting against it.
“Wait—what are you?—”
