The presence I felt at the mouth of the cave has been shifting, waxing and waning like the ebb and flow of the tide. Has it been an hour? Longer? Losing track of time is never good, especially now that I’m certain:
I’m in something’s domain.
There’s no curse. No illusion.
Only the most evolved creatures—those whose very existence is steeped in magic—can create a domain like this. Within these domains, reality bends to the creatures’ will. They can manipulate space, summon illusion, and distort time itself. The strongest can do even worse: inflict poisons, insanity, curses, compulsion, the list doesn’t end.
To test my theory, I turn, scanning the cavern for the hundredth time. Then I see it.
The entrance is gone. Only smooth stone remains.
“Ah, so you know I’m here,” I call out—not just to the dark but to what is lurking unseen. My voice echoes through the cavern, swallowed by the silence.
“Come now, don’t be shy,” I sigh, rolling my shoulders as my patience wears thin. The bones scattered across the floor suddenly make sense. If this thing lures, traps, and simply waits for its prey to starve, that would explain the remains.
Something doesn’t add up. A creature capable of controlling a domain this vast shouldn’t rely on such a weak method of hunting. This is too…passive.
I spin the ring on my thumb, thinking.
Then the crying grows louder, and so does the sound of footsteps.
I freeze, my eyes snapping toward the third tunnel. Small, shuffling steps grow louder. Slowly, she emerges.
It’s a little girl—she couldn’t be more than five. Her blonde hair hangs in tangled clumps. A torn brown dress clings toher tiny frame. Her bare feet are blackened, flecked with dried blood, the wounds fresh from the jagged bones underfoot.
Red-rimmed blue eyes stare up at me, filled with tears.
“I w-want m-my m-m-mommy,” she stammers, breath hitching between words. “Are you going to take me to her?”
Her voice wobbles, eyes widening with sorrow.
My fingers flex at my sides, but I don’t reach for my sickles. Not yet.
“How did you get down here?” I gentle my voice, but my body remains cautious, ready to strike.
The cries I heard earlier didn’t sound like a child this young. They were deeper, more developed. Now they’ve…changed. Adjusted. As if they’re guessing what her cry should sound like.
She sniffles, tears spilling down her dirt-smeared cheeks. “Please, I-I’m l-l-lost,” she hiccups, clutching her chest as if struggling to breathe. “I’m st-st-stuck, I’m h-hungry. I w-want my m-mommy.”
Her small feet shuffle forward toward me, eager for help. She nearly stumbles as her left ankle rolls sharply. Oddly enough, she doesn’t react. Doesn’t flinch.
She just keeps coming.
Now inches away, I see her clearly. The hair is wrong. Not just tangled or filthy. It’s lifeless. Strands grow at unnatural angles, spouting from her scalp like weeds.
She tilts her head, peering up at me. Doe eyes are rimmed with silver tears.
White-glazed. Hollow.
Not hu—
I react instantly.
My fingers reach around the hilt of my crescent blade, pulling it forward in one fluid motion. The steel flashes as I bring it down—aimed at her neck.
My blade never lands. She catches it.
One small, filthy hand clamps around the steel like a vice. My shoulder wrenches as she yanks the weapon from my grip, the sheer force popping the joint out of place. I suck in a sharp breath, but before I can react—
