Page 28

The underground tunnels form a cryptic maze beneath Chicago, but as we descend farther, they transition into a sprawling, cavernous expanse. We've stepped into a lost city of ruins buried beneath the modern streets—cavernous stone architecture and crumbling archways that predate recorded history. Echoed whispers of ancient magic cling to the damp walls of this subterranean metropolis. I step carefully over broken debris, the air saturated with dust and silence. We’ve spent the last few days laying low, switching locations every six hours to stay ahead of the coven—still running in the SUV we escaped in while Kellan tracked down a second vehicle. The constant movement sits heavy in my muscles, an exhausting loop of cramped driving and looking over our shoulders until highway signs blur together. Even exhausted, the adrenaline leaves no room to quiet my mind. Driving myself to remain clearheaded, I replay every fragment of the vision—the black stone and the moonlight reflecting off pooling blood.

Taking initiative is my only option now. The coven wants me alive, which gives me an advantage, and uncovering their motives is the key to mastering my own destiny.

Footsteps behind me crunch softly on loose gravel. "You shouldn't be down here, Serenity," Darius murmurs, his presence looming, solid as the stone around us.

"I refuse to wait around, Darius. I need answers. These visions might be the only lead we have." My eyes narrow, searching the walls for anything that aligns with the symbols burned into my mind.

"And what if you trigger another surge?" He stays close, remaining within arm's reach, a tempest of concern wrapped in muscle and wariness. "Being this close to the source could amplify your powers."

"Then you'll have to calm me down again," I reply, half-joking, half-serious. "Besides, I'm not alone, am I?"

His voice is soft and skeptical. "True enough."

We wind our way into the belly of the labyrinth, each turn unnervingly similar until I pause, frowning at a section of wall with shallow carvings barely visible beneath layers of grime.

The first flash hits me three steps further into the tunnel.

Candlelight flickers against stone walls. Robed figures move in perfect synchronization, their voices weaving together in an ancient language that tastes like copper on my tongue. The chanting builds, layer upon layer, until the very air vibrates with power.

I stumble, my hand shooting out to support myself against the wall. The carved symbols beneath my palm feel warm, almost alive.

"Serenity?" Darius's voice cuts through the disorientation and clears the fog.

"I'm fine," I tell him, though the lie tastes bitter on my tongue. "Just... the carvings are more extensive than I thought."

I take another step forward, but another flash instantly overtakes my vision.

Blood drips steadily onto black stone, each drop hissing as it makes contact. The chanting grows more frenzied. A figure in ceremonial robes raises their arms, and moonlight streams down from somewhere impossibly high above, illuminating a face I almost recognize but can't quite place.

A sharp gasp escapes me as clarity hits. These belong to someone else. The perspective shifts entirely, placing me right behind another person's eyes, experiencing their exact emotions, their profound hunger for⁠—

"What are you seeing?" Darius moves closer, his eyes sharp with concern as he tracks my stumbling movements.

"Nothing concrete. Just... echoes." I force myself forward, determined to push further into the passage.

But the third flash hits so hard it nearly drops me to my knees.

The ritual reaches its crescendo. Power goes through the chamber like a living thing, wild and untamed. The chanting elevates into roaring declarations. The moonlight transforms into a vibrant crimson glow. And then—the shadows take form. A living, consuming force manifests, expanding and pressing against the boundaries of reality itself. The sound intensifies, filling every corner of the room as every voice joins the chorus, vibrating through everything.

"Christ, Serenity—" Darius catches my elbow as I sway.

Breathing becomes almost impossible. The atmosphere down here is choking, laden with the coppery essence of blood and terror. My chest constricts as phantom screams echo in my ears and layer over each other until they become a symphony of agony.

"I need—" With my spine flush against the stone, I slide down until I'm crouched on the tunnel floor, focusing intensely on the damp smell of the earth to ground myself. "Give me a second."

Darius drops to a crouch beside me, keeping a respectful distance but ready to intervene. "Take your time. What the hell is happening?" he asks, as my breathing evens out in stuttering increments.

"Memories belonging to someone else." Closing my eyes, I try to push away the lingering images of blood and darkness. "Another person lived through something terrible in these tunnels. It feels connected to the lunar ritual."

I push myself up from the cold stone floor, legs wobbly but functional. The phantom screams fade to whispers but leave behind a bitter, tinny taste and the uncomfortable sensation of borrowed terror clinging to my skin.

"Better?" Darius watches me with the intensity of a hunter assessing wounded prey.

"Getting there." I brush dust from my jacket, avoiding his gaze. "The visions are stronger down here. Whatever happened, it left permanent impressions in the stone itself."

My palm finds the wall for balance, fingers tracing along the rough surface until they encounter something different. Carved lines, deliberate and purposeful, gouge the rock. I lean closer and squint in the dim light from my phone's flashlight.

The breath leaves my lungs in a sharp rush.