Cale saw it. The way Emis's shadow tore through Emilia—not like a weapon, not like a blade, but something colder, quieter. Like death itself slipped through her torso and whispered its final prayer. She didn't even scream.
Emis pierced through Emilia's torso with a shadow as easily as slicing butter. Cale stood frozen, watching in disbelief, the image searing itself into his mind. When the grotesque clarity hit him, he snapped back and turned away sharply.
"We need to go," he rasped, voice cracking. His insides were twisting. He couldn't bear to look.
Rosanna and Regan had already stopped behind him, frozen mid-step. Their backs were to the corridor, eyes glued to the unseen scene. Cale, still trembling, hissed at them, "What's wrong? Why did you stop?"
Regan spoke first, his voice strained. "Which way do we go now?"
Cale blinked. His mind tried to focus despite the adrenaline flooding his veins. Regan continued, his voice low and urgent. "The guards outside the villa... there were too many. We can't go back. And all the tunnels—you said they lead to the palace."
Rosanna nodded. Her voice was quiet, shaken. "We can't take on more guards. We won't make it."
Cale looked between them, his mind racing, then glanced over his shoulder—just a flash of the darkened chamber, the body of the woman slumped to the ground, the smear of black shadow retreating like smoke.
He looked back at his friends and Iven. "Then we go to the palace."
Their eyes widened. "What?" Regan asked.
Cale stepped forward. "Think about it. The villa is crawling with guards. But the palace? We don't know what's inside. It's risky—yes. But right now, it might be the only path left."
Rosanna opened her mouth, closed it, then finally nodded. "Fine. But if we die in there, I'm haunting you."
Regan gave a hollow laugh, more fear than humor. "Seconded."
They turned. Cale led the way. The tunnel grew colder as they walked, the stone walls older, the roots twisting through the cracks like the forest itself had reached in to reclaim the underground.
Behind them, in the chamber of blood and shadow, Emis's form faded into tendrils of dark mist. A whisper of power remained.
And then—
The Vorrak moved.
Its claws scraped against the stone. Its head turned, sniffing the air. The hole in the wall drew its attention.
The silence of the secret room was broken by a low, monstrous growl.
The Vorrak continued to stir.
The shadows where Emis once stood had vanished. In their place, the incomplete creature sniffed the trail left by Cale and his friends.
It snarled.
Then it moved.
Toward the palace.
The chase was not over yet.
____________
The tunnel stretched before them, long and narrowing with every step. The deeper they went, the darker it became—until the faint flicker of light from the villa vanished entirely. No more torches. No fire. Just the sound of their own breaths and the slap of hurried footsteps.
Cale led, his shoulder brushing along the wall. Regan's breathing was uneven behind him, Rosanna steady despite her injuries. Iven quietly followed them from the back.
They didn't know how long they ran. Minutes? An hour? It felt endless.
They were moving with desperation. No one talked. No one made a sound. It seemed like they were all in a haze of escaping that place. Nothing else mattered inside their minds during that moment.
Then, when it seemed like they were moving forever—a door.
It was a wooden door. Old. Slightly warped in its frame. A faint glow peeked from its edges.
Cale reached forward and tentatively pushed open the door. A crack of blinding white burst into their eyes. All four of them hissed and recoiled.
Sunlight.
Had they been in the dark that long? And from the look of it, people were already starting a new day while they were dealing shits inside the villa.
They spilled out into a room. Luxurious, orderly. A few glances here and there could suggest it was a private study. Shelves lined with books, polished wood furniture, papers stacked neatly.
"We're in the palace," Regan whispered.
They crouched low, hiding near the bookshelf from which they'd emerged—through a hidden latch disguised as a seam between volumes.
Cale scanned the room. "We can't stay here. It looks like someone could enter this room at any moment."
"We need to lay low," he added. "Find someplace safe until—"
"Or," Regan interrupted, "we head for the servant quarters. Get uniforms. Blend in."
Rosanna scowled at Regan's suggestion.
"That's stupid," Rosanna snapped. "Do you think we have time for all of that before someone notice us? We find a way out. Now."
Regan scoffed. "And they wouldn't find us out if we look for a way out? Do you think the palace is so simple that there aren't any guards patrolling at every corners?"
Rosanna bursted a vein inside her head. "You! Your plan isn't foolproof either."
They started arguing, voices sharp but hushed.
"Guys!" Cale interjected. "This isn't the time and place for that. We need to think together. Not argue."
Regan and Rosanna quiet down when Cale said that. Quiet, but not so calm.
"Iven," Cale addressed the boy who observed them silently for the whole time. He continued, "Do you know anything about this place?"
"Huh? How would he know about—"
Cale interrupted. "He might know because he works with the Hollow Creed."
Both Regan and Rosanna stared in shock.
"What do you mean he—"
"Hollow Creed? What—"
Then—they froze. They couldn't finish what they were about to say.
A sound came from where they slipped out not so long ago.
Low. Guttural.
A rumbling growl from behind the secret door. They all turned to look at the bookshelf.
They all held their breaths.
Because of their desperate attempt to escape the place, they all but forgot one important piece of information. Something they should have kept in mind. Something they should not have overlooked.
Regan gulped. Rosanna slightly shivered. Iven crouched while covering his ears.
Cale's face drained of color.
"The Vorrak," he whispered.
Because of their carelessness, they have unknowingly led a Vorrak straight into the heart of the kingdom.