As the last of the first three root-things finally crashed down, splintered wood sprayed across the damp floor.
For maybe half a second, the only sound was the echo of the crash and the frantic thumping of my own heart against my ribs.
Then the quiet ripped apart.
From deeper in the cavern, from all around us, came wet, tearing sounds. A horrible symphony that made my stomach twist into knots.
I watched, frozen, as pairs of sickly, pale lights ignited in the oppressive darkness clinging to the walls. Not just a few. Dozens. Maybe more. Hungry eyes staring out of the shadows.
And then the shapes started pulling themselves free.
Oh, Gods. More of them. Crude figures made of knotted, dark wood bound with those thick, pulsing, fleshy roots. They looked like nightmares pulled from a compost heap.
They groaned, a low, rattling chorus that seemed to crawl right under my skin, vibrating up through the soles of my boots.
They shambled forward, a tide of walking deadwood and grasping roots, spilling out from the walls, blocking the way forward. Blocking our only way out.
No... no, please, no! Too many! We're trapped!
The thought screamed through my head, raw panic finally breaking my paralysis. I stumbled back, my heel catching on a thick root snaking across the floor, almost sending me sprawling.
"RIGG!"
Ryder's roar ripped through the awful groaning, so loud it made me jump.
I saw him move – a blur of dented metal and grim determination planting himself right in front of me, between me and the closest wave of those shambling horrors.
THUD!
The impact shaked through the air as the first Thrall slammed into the shield.
I flinched, seeing splintered wood fly. Ryder just grunted, a low, animal sound, and shoved forward with his whole body. Then his strange metal blade flashed out. It hacked deep into a thick, root-limb with a wet, sickening CRUNCH.
He was fighting like something cornered, savage and brutal. His shield bashed, his blade chopped, carving out a small, violent space around us.
But I could see it wasn't enough.
For every one he knocked back or cut down, two more seemed to shamble forward, their empty, glowing eyes fixed on us. The tide kept pushing in.
The air was foul. Thick with the stench of rot and damp earth, so heavy I felt like I was breathing mud. The groaning echoed relentlessly, mixed with the heavy CLANG of Ryder's shield and the awful, wet tearing sounds of his blade biting into the root-things.
Do something! Don't just stand here!
My legs finally obeyed. I scrambled back towards that chunk of twisted metal I'd used before. My hands were shaking so badly I almost dropped my spear, but I gripped it tight and started banging it against the metal again.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
The sharp noise felt small against the groaning, but maybe, maybe it would help. I saw a few of the nearest Thralls hesitate, their blank faces turning towards the sound. It wasn't drawing many away from Ryder, but it was something.
I snatched up a loose rock from the floor, it felt cold and gritty in my palm, and hurled it with all my might. It hit one of the distracted Thralls square in the knee. I heard a dull crack, saw it stumble.
Another one lunged at me from the side. I saw thorny tendrils whip through the air, reaching for me.
I yelped, throwing myself backward, swinging my spear wildly. Pure luck, pure terror.
I felt a sharp sting as thorns tore through my sleeve, scraping my skin, but the grasping root whipped past my face. I landed hard on my backside, the impact jarring my teeth, the foul-smelling dirt cold beneath me.
Ryder roared again, a sound of pure, boiling rage. I looked up just in time to see him slam his shield into two Thralls trying to flank him, sending them staggering back into the pulsating roots lining the passage.
And right then, for just a second, I saw it. Through the chaos, past Ryder's shoulder – a gap. A place where the churning tide of root-things seemed thinner. A darker opening in the wall ahead, where the passage seemed to widen slightly.
"Ryder!" I pointed with my spear, my hand still trembling. "There! An opening!"
He saw it too. His eyes flicked towards it, then back to the path. No hesitation. He brought the shield down again in a wide, brutal sweep, clearing the space right in front of him.
"NOW, RIGG! MOVE!"
His hand clamped onto my arm like a vice. The strength was shocking; he hauled me to my feet and pulled me forward, shoving me towards the gap.
We plunged into the press of bodies.
Roots lashed out, feeling like thorny whips against my clothes, my skin. I stumbled, my feet tangling, but Ryder was a wedge, shoving forward relentlessly, shield leading the way, dragging me along in his wake.
I squeezed my eyes shut for a second, just trying to keep my feet moving, pulled through the nightmare.
Then, suddenly, the pressure was gone. We burst free, stumbling out of the grasping tide and onto a wide, open ledge. The crushing chaos vanished, replaced by a vast, echoing emptiness that made my ears ring.
I collapsed onto my hands and knees, gasping, my lungs burning. I could feel tremors running through my whole body. Beside me, Ryder leaned heavily on his shield, his breath coming in harsh, ragged rasps that echoed in the sudden quiet.
I pushed myself up, looking back. The passage mouth was still choked with them, a sea of groaning, shambling figures, their faint lights bobbing. But they weren't coming out onto the ledge. They just milled there, like cattle penned in the darkness.
Safe? Are we safe? Just for a moment?
Finally turning, shaky and reeling, I faced the new space and my eyes went wide. We stood on a broad stone shelf overlooking an immense cavern, far larger than any I'd seen before.
The air felt heavy, charged, carrying a sharp, coppery taste and a low hum that vibrated up through the stone. It wasn't like the wild chaos of a Fracture; this felt deliberate, built. That thought sent a fresh wave of chill washing through me.
Down below, the floor was dominated by a giant symbol etched into the stone itself. Intricate lines and sharp angles looped across the entire cavern floor, glowing with a sickly, pulsing red light that seemed to beat like some monstrous heart laid bare.
Thick, fleshy roots snaked across the floor from every direction, like dark veins converging on the glowing sigil, writhing slowly as they pulsed with that same inner light. I felt a faint echo of that pulse deep in my own chest, a strange, unsettling rhythm.
I felt tiny standing on that ledge, like a speck of dust. The fear sat cold and heavy in my stomach, but the scout's instinct stirred: See it. Record it. Understand it.
I pulled out my battered sketchbook and charcoal. Keeping low, eyes darting between the passage and the chamber below, I crouched and began sketching, quick lines capturing the shape of the massive sigil. The loops, the angles, the points where the pulsing roots merged into the glowing red lines.
Not a fighter. Just bait that learned how to see. Maybe this drawing will matter.
I focused, trying to block out the fear, the hum, the coppery taste. Just the lines. Near the center, one root seemed thicker, darker, pulsing stronger, like the main artery feeding this terrible heart. I leaned forward, trying to capture how it burrowed into the central point.
"Found it, hotshot!"
I flinched violently, the charcoal tumbling from my fingers. It was the spirit's voice, Betsy.
"The interference is strongest here," she continued, "This sigil! it's the control nexus. And I'm detecting one hell of a power signature coalescing right above it. Get ready, Ryder! The big boss is coming to the party."
Above?
I hastily shoved the sketchbook back, my heart hammering harder than before. My head snapped up, searching the tangled roots coating the distant cavern ceiling, far above the pulsing red heart.
Darkness clung thick up there, but something moved. A deep shadow shifted. Something large. Heavy.
Down below, the red light of the sigil beat faster, brighter, staining the walls a deeper crimson.
Panic, absolute and overwhelming, seized me. Run! We have to run!
But where? Trapped between the horde behind us, and whatever nightmare was waking up above. There was nowhere to go.