Aedric woke to the distant murmur of voices and the flickering glow of lanterns beyond the thin wooden door. The Black Hollow never truly rested, but now the noises were different—hushed, cautious. Something was happening.
His instincts sharpened instantly. His fingers itched for his blade as he slowly pushed himself up, careful not to make a sound. Across the small room, Seris was already awake, sitting against the wall with her daggers in hand. Her sharp eyes met his, confirming his suspicion: she had heard it too.
Tessa stirred in the corner, rubbing her eyes groggily. "What is it?" she mumbled, voice thick with sleep.
Aedric motioned for silence. He strained his ears, picking apart the sounds beyond the door. Footsteps—several of them—moving through the narrow tunnels. They weren't the usual aimless wanderers or drunken vagrants. These were measured, deliberate movements.
Seris rose to her feet, her expression hardening. "They're searching for someone."
Aedric's jaw tightened. "Us."
Tessa sat up fully now, the fear in her eyes growing. "Are you sure?"
Seris nodded. "They're moving too carefully. Someone tipped them off that we're here."
Aedric cursed under his breath. He had known their stay in the Hollow wouldn't last long, but he had hoped for more time. They weren't ready for another fight—not yet.
"We need to move," he said, already reaching for his belongings.
Seris was one step ahead of him, strapping her weapons back into place. "We don't know how many are out there. Rushing out might be worse."
Aedric exhaled sharply, considering. She was right. If they ran blindly, they might walk straight into a trap. They needed a plan.
Tessa hugged her arms, her voice barely above a whisper. "There's a back way out of the Hollow. It's dangerous, but it might be our best chance."
Aedric turned to her. "How dangerous?"
Tessa hesitated. "It leads into the old catacombs. No one goes there unless they have to. The tunnels are unstable, and there are… things in the dark."
Seris arched a brow. "Things?"
Tessa swallowed. "People say the dead don't rest easy down there."
Aedric glanced at Seris. "Superstitions?"
Seris didn't answer immediately. Instead, she tilted her head, listening again. The footsteps outside had stopped. That wasn't good.
"We don't have the luxury to be picky," she finally said. "If we stay, we die. If we take our chances in the catacombs, we might live."
Aedric made his decision instantly. "Then we go."
Tessa led the way, guiding them toward the hidden passage near the back of their cramped room. It was a narrow opening behind a stack of rotting crates, barely wide enough to squeeze through. Aedric went first, pulling himself into the dark tunnel beyond.
The air was thick and stale, filled with the scent of damp earth and decay. As Seris and Tessa followed, Aedric pulled a lantern from his pack, lighting it carefully. The dim glow barely reached beyond a few feet, casting eerie shadows along the stone walls.
The tunnel sloped downward, the rough floor uneven beneath their steps. The deeper they went, the quieter the world above became, until all that remained was the distant drip of water and their own careful breaths.
Seris moved beside Aedric, her voice low. "This doesn't feel right."
Aedric nodded. He had the same feeling—an unnatural stillness, as if the very walls were watching them.
Tessa wrapped her arms around herself. "We should keep moving."
They did. The tunnel twisted and branched off into smaller passages, some barely tall enough to stand in. The deeper they went, the colder the air became.
Then Aedric saw it—the first sign that they weren't alone.
A skeletal hand, half-buried in the dirt.
Tessa gasped, but Seris was already moving, kneeling to inspect the remains. "This isn't fresh." She glanced up. "But it's not ancient either."
Aedric felt the tension coil in his gut. "We need to move faster."
As if in response, a distant sound echoed through the tunnel. A whispering shuffle, just at the edge of hearing.
They weren't alone.
Seris drew her blades, her posture tense. Aedric raised his lantern higher, casting long shadows against the stone. The sound came again—closer this time.
Then the darkness ahead shifted.
Something moved.
A low, guttural breath echoed through the tunnel. The air grew colder.
And then, from the darkness, a shape emerged—half-rotted, hollow-eyed, and impossibly still.
Aedric's grip tightened on his sword. They had stumbled into something far worse than mere pursuers.
They had woken the dead.