The air didn't just vibrate; it curdled.
Kiron stood frozen, his eyes locked on the ceiling. Is this it? he thought, his chest tightening until he could barely draw breath.
After sixteen years of hiding in the scrap, am I going to die in a hole before I even learn the name of the woman who gave birth to me?
"Kiron! Move your feet!" Nyra's voice cracked like a whip, breaking his trance.
She's terrified, Kiron realized, seeing the slight tremor in Nyra's hand as she gripped her crossbow. If even she is scared, what chance do I have? I'm just a boy with a warped crowbar and a head full of ghosts.
"Vahn, the tunnels won't hold!" Nyra shouted. "If Juro-Gai puts his weight on this shelf, the whole mountain is going to slide into the Shush!"
Vahn stood in the center of the hall, his head tilted back. Even through the leather blindfold, it felt like he was staring directly through the stone at the entity above.
He's searching for a fracture, Vahn thought, his jaw tightening. The boy's dam is holding, but the God's presence is like an ocean pressing against a thin wooden door. If Kiron breaks now, his soul will flare like a beacon, and we'll be erased before we can even reach the dark-veins.
"To the back!" Vahn commanded. "The stone there is reinforced with ancient Caelum-waste. It will mask the boy's pulse!"
Kiron grabbed Taz, who was white-faced and trembling. "Come on, Taz. Just keep your eyes on my back. Don't look up."
I have to be the one he relies on, Kiron told himself, forcing his legs to move even though they felt like they were made of water. Even if I'm lying to myself, I have to look like I know what I'm doing.
As they sprinted toward the rear of the Oru-Gate, the roof above them groaned. A massive, jagged crack spiraled across the obsidian ceiling. Dust and debris rained down, and through the gap, a sliver of the sky was visible.
It wasn't sky. It was a sea of gold-and-black armor, so vast it blocked out the suns.
A single sound descended from the heavens—a low, melodic hum that made Kiron's ears bleed. It wasn't music. It was the God breathing.
He's close, Kiron thought, a cold sweat drenching his tunic. He's right there. The thing that turned my home into a slaughterhouse is standing right above me.
Suddenly, the floor beneath them buckled. A massive pillar of stone collapsed, sealing the entrance to the deep tunnels.
"No!" Nyra hissed, sliding to a halt. "It's blocked!"
"The side-shaft," Vahn said, his voice low and urgent. "Kiron, the black-wood sword. Take it!"
"Now?" Kiron barked. "I can barely lift it!"
"Lift it or die!" Vahn roared. "Use the weight! Don't fight it—fall with it!"
Kiron lunged for the heavy wooden blade. As his fingers gripped the hilt, he felt the God's gaze pass over the mountain. It felt like a physical heat, a burning pressure that tried to peel the skin off his bones.
Fall with it, Kiron repeated Vahn's words in his mind. Don't try to be strong. Be heavy. Be nothing.
He didn't try to lift the sword with his muscles. He let his entire body go limp, channeling the terror and the weight of the mountain into his arms. He swung the blade not at an enemy, but at the floor.
The black-wood sword, heavy with the gravity of a sunken isle, slammed into a weakened section of the obsidian floor.
CRACK-BOOM.
The floor gave way.
Oh no, Taz thought as the ground vanished beneath him. Not again.
Nyra grabbed a nearby ledge with one hand and caught Taz with the other, her muscles straining. Kiron, however, fell straight through the hole, the heavy sword dragging him down into the lightless belly of the mountain.
As he fell, Kiron looked up one last time through the crumbling ceiling.
A single, massive eye—gold, weeping black oil, and filled with a cold, immortal hunger—looked down through the clouds. It didn't see him yet, but it was searching.
I'm coming for you, Kiron thought, a sudden, sharp spike of rage cutting through his fear. Not today. Not tomorrow. But eventually, I'm going to make you bleed the same red you took from Koda.
Then, the darkness of the deep-veins swallowed him whole.