Donna is about to protest, but a scream from nearby sends us all moving forward, my legs shaking from exhaustion.
Entering down this pathway is like walking through a veil, the static noise diminishing into nearly nothing, the shadows almost alive with the faintest hum. Torches are sparse, and I wonder for a moment who lights them, but that consideration flies away as soon as it lands.
We’re all silent, except for the sound of our breathing. Basilisk is told to lead the way so we can all keep an eye on him.
The torches slowly change colors the longer we walk, until they’re nearly crystal blue. Again, I don’t question why or how that works, and just follow a man who once trained Soren, hoping to all the gods he is here to help.
When we pass by other crossroads, the empty tunnels make the hair on my neck crawl, as if waiting for something to come to life in them. There’s even a skeleton lying on the ground, worn clothes hanging off the bones.
“Fucker got lost,” Basilisk mutters, his grumbling voice almost making mehushhim. I don’t even think anything is following us, but the idea alone is enough to freak me out.
Then, we stop.
The faintest,clickingsound echoes all around, followed by a guttural growl, and I swear I hear clacking claws.
Jasmine jumps up onto Basilisk’s shoulder, settling around his neck like a scarf.
My blood turns to ice when there’s asecondwave of clicks, growls, and claws.
Basilisk looks back at us, his molten eyes nearly glowing. “I know I said Tempest is on our side, and these creatures revere her, but I really think we should at leastjog.”
We all move without thought, my legs finding a second wind from literally nothing. We’re in a dangerous labyrinth, and the passages we run past are growing wider, darker.
I actually shudder when one of them haseyespeering out.
Dad’s hand is on my back as we continue to move, my vision tunneling onto the Basilisk while he guides us through the forbidden underbelly of Skull’s Row.
I nearly gag when a rotten stench saturates the corridors until we near a section much like the Undercroft where light bleeds in from a grate so incredibly high up.
It shines down on a mountain of bones.
My skin nearly melts off my body, my jaw dropping so I can nearly taste the rot when I see copious amounts of legs moving in the light among the pile, eyes flashing our way as many heads of creatures I can hardly process look at us.
It’s as if someone took the torso of a thin, emaciated human with stringy hair and placed it on a large body with many legs.
Their eyes glint white like a dog’s in the moon. Hissing and clicking fill the space and Basilisk, very quietly, says, “Keep. Moving.”
I focus on his back and continue to do so, my eyes drying from being unable to blink. Why the fuck are these things living underneath Skull’s Row?
As we follow him, a few of these creatures walk aside us, looking at us. Their stench so foul I grow dizzy. They scutter ahead swiftly, then look back, watching as we continue. Every time one does, I shudder and get closer to my father. A few heads get so close to ours, tears from utter fright clouds my vision.
The sight isshocking.
One gets so close to my face its wispy, white hair touches my shoulder, the sheen to its skin soclammy. A flash of red illuminates across its face, and itscreamsat me, my earrings glowing like a torch light. The others come to its aid, and Basilisk shouts, “Fucking run for it!”
We bolt until we come across a round gate, the bars embedded into the stone. Basilisk works at the necklace around his neck, holding it to the lock, muttering words under his breath.
Dad and Donna shield me, both drawing their weapons as the weird creatures screech in the background, filling the space with their bodies as they all scurry our way, mouths baring their fangs, black tongues unfurling.
My pulse thrums in my ears, the seconds stretching into an eternity. Finally, with a softclick, the grate door swings open.
“Let’s go!” Basilisk shouts, moving with such speed to get through, and shuts the grate behind us. The creatures slam into the metal, their skeletal arms and claws reaching through the bars, screeching at us like a horde of undying creatures.
“Don’t stop,” Dad says, his voice steady in this chaos.
The tunnel twists and turns as the screeching dies down, and when I start to smell the salty air of the ocean, I nearly want to cry with joy.
We come across a wooden door with cracks that sunlight streaks through in little beams, and Basilisk opens it without issue.
