The heartbeat wasn't just heard it was felt.
It pulsed through the crumbling throne room like a living thing, each thunderous thud vibrating up through the soles of Seraphine's boots and into her bones. The marble floor trembled beneath them, cracks spreading like lightning forks across a stormy sky, widening with every terrible beat until the stone groaned under the strain. Black ichor seeped up through the fractures, bubbling and hissing where it met the air, filling the chamber with the stench of rotting meat and spoile wine. Kaelan staggered against the nearest pillar, his blood-slick hand leaving a crimson smear across the carved stone. The unnatural darkness that had filled his eyes was receding like the tide, but what it left behind was worse, recognition, horror, and a pain so deep it made Seraphine's chest ache in sympathy. "It's waking, he rasped, his voice raw as if he'd been screaming for hours. His throat worked as he swallowed hard. "The ritual wasn't finished,it's not supposed to"
A deafening crackcut him off as a massive section of floor near the dais gave way. The queen, who had been standing frozen in place since the crown's scream, finally moved but only to take a stumbling step backward, her jeweled dagger slipping from numb fingers to clatter against the stone. Her lips moved silently, forming the same two words over and over like a prayer: "Not yet. Not yet. Not yet.From the yawning blackness of the central fissure, something moved. First came the hand if it could be called that. Larger than a war shield, its fingers ended in curved talons longer than Seraphine's forearm, the blackened claws scraping against the broken marble with a sound that set her teeth on edge. The skin if it was skin glistened wetly in the flickering torchlight, stretched taut over too many knuckles, the texture somewhere between scales and rotting leather. The not-Pip creature let out a sound that might have been laughter or a scream it was impossible to tell with its mouth still partially stitched shut. The other Hollow Ones turned toward the emerging horror in perfect unison, their movements jerky and synchronized like marionettes controlled by a drunken puppeteer. Their stitched mouths strained against the threads, dark fluid leaking from the corners where something writhed beneath the flesh. Seraphine's grip tightened around Pip's blade until the leather-wrapped hilt creaked in protest. The metal hummed against her palm, still warm from where it had severed the crown's vine. A thin tendril of smoke curled from the severed end still wrapped around her temple, the sap hissing where it dripped onto her collarbone, burning tiny trails down her skin. "We need to move," she said, grabbing the queen's arm with her free hand. The older woman's skin was clammy beneath the fine silk of her sleeve, her usually sharp eyes glassy with terror. Up close, Seraphine could see the fine tremors wracking the queen's frame, could smell the sour tang of fear cutting through her usual rosewater perfume. The queen didn't resist as Seraphine pulled her toward the cracked obsidian throne. "It's too early," she whispered, her voice breaking. "The ritual wasn't complete the sacrifices weren't enough" Another section of floor gave way with a thunderous crash, sending chunks of marble tumbling into the abyss below. The heat that rushed up from the exposed darkness was unnatural not the dry warmth of a fire, but the wet, oppressive heat of a beast's breath. It carried the scent of burning hair and spoiled meat, of copper left too long in the rain. Something moved in the depths. Not just the massive hand now, but something far larger a shifting, heaving bulk that made the very air tremble with each movement. That terrible heartbeat grew louder, closer, until Seraphine could feel it in her teeth, in the hollow of her chest. Kaelan lurched forward, his movements stiff and halting as if he fought against invisible bonds with every step. Blood still seeped from his pores from his nose, the corners of his eyes, the half-moon cuts his own nails had left in his palms but less now, as though whatever had controlled him was losing its grip. "The tunnels," he gasped, pointing a shaking hand toward the obsidian throne. Its base had split open, revealing a narrow staircase spiraling into darkness. "Beneath the throne leads to the old catacombs. We can "The not-Pip creature's head snapped toward them at the words, its too-long neck twisting at an impossible angle. Its stitched mouth strained, threads popping one by one with wet little snaps as something dark and writhing pressed against the inside of its cheeks. Seraphine didn't wait to see what emerged. She hauled the queen toward the throne just as another massive section of floor collapsed behind them, the heat of the abyss licking at their heels. The obsidian staircase was cramped and uneven, the steps worn smooth by centuries of use or something else.
Kaelan went first, his steps unsteady but determined, one hand braced against the curved wall for balance. Seraphine pushed the queen after him, casting one last glance at the nightmare unfolding in the throne room.
The Hollow Ones had formed a perfect circle around the widening central crack, their stitched mouths now fully torn open. From each gaping maw poured thick, black tendrils that lashed through the air like whips, wrapping around the emerging horror's claws not to restrain it, but to *help* pull it free. The largest talon flexed, and with a sound like the world splitting open, the floor gave way completely. Seraphine threw herself into the tunnel just as the throne room collapsed in on itself. The sound was deafening stone grinding against stone, the screams of the Hollow Ones abruptly cut off, and beneath it all, that relentless, growing heartbeat.
Darkness swallowed them as the staircase trembled around them, dust and debris raining down from above. Somewhere in the blackness ahead, the queen sobbed quietly, the sound small and broken. Kaelan's breathing came in ragged gasps, his footsteps uneven. Then, from the abyss below a new sound cut through the chaos.
Breathing.
Not theirs.Something was just waiting for them
In the dark.