Following her instructions, we reached the mouth of the cave just as a gunshot echoed through the forest. My instinct was to turn back, but Liam's grip tightened on my arm.
"You want to stop it? Then move forward. Into the cave."
His voice left no room for argument, and he was right—returning would change nothing.
The path inside was narrow and damp until suddenly it opened, light spilling from deeper within. I seized Liam's hand and pulled him toward it. The glow guided us to an archway, and the moment we stepped through, the world transformed.
We stood inside a hall so vast it swallowed sound, its grandeur at odds with the cavern's gloom. Tall walls soared upward, their shadows broken by crystal chandeliers above a long dining table carved from black wood.
Behind the table, colossal windows arched toward the ceiling, their glass veiled with crimson curtains heavy enough to silence the air. Each chair was a masterpiece—backs and armrests etched with delicate, almost living designs, their cushions sheathed in blood-red silk, too inviting.
A staircase of three steps descended from the head of the table, a scarlet carpet embroidered with gold threading unfurling like a tongue toward towering gates. Even the gates bore carvings, their surface so dark it reflected no light, as though they absorbed it.
To the left, a fireplace glowed faintly, though no warmth reached us. To the right, a door loomed, shut tight, concealing secrets no one dared speak aloud.
It was a palace—of that we were certain—but its beauty carried a weight, a hush, as if it waited for us to make a mistake. And then our eyes found the figure at the table.
A girl. Long golden hair spilled down her shoulders, a tiara catching the chandelier's light like a crown of fire. She wore a gown woven with threads finer than any we had ever seen. She was impossibly beautiful, her presence so radiant it stole our breath, our gaze bound to her as if by spell.
In her hands rested a fork and knife, gleaming in the light. She sat in the left chair as though she had always belonged there.
And beside her—leaning in the corner seat—sat a man.
His hair, sharp buzz cut, the light in the room catching against his pale gray eyes—cold, watchful, and strangely hollow. His face was bare, no trace of a beard, no softness. The black short-collared uniform he wore could have belonged to a soldier, but it bore no insignia, no country, no name. He sat at the head of the table, carving something with his knife in slow, precise strokes, lifting it to his mouth as though the act itself was a ritual.
"Have a seat," he called out with authority. "I know you must be hungry." As he rose to his feet, the knife gleamed faintly in the low light.
We hesitated, unsure whether to obey, but instinct pressed us forward. The air smelled thick with roasted meat and spices, almost intoxicating. I forced my voice steady. "Where are we?"
I sank into the chair, every nerve sharp with the fear of breaking.
"You are in our palace," he replied with a smile that never quite reached his eyes. He glanced toward the young woman seated beside him. She mirrored his expression, her lips curving in practiced warmth. With a gesture, she urged us closer.
"I am Hector." He stretched out his hand toward Liam. Their palms met, his grip firm, almost claiming. Before Liam could speak, Hector tilted his head and cut him short with quiet certainty. "I know who you are."
The table spread before us looked like something from a dream—or a trap. A whole roasted turkey gleamed under a thin sheen of juices, surrounded by bowls of glistening salad, mushroom rice fragrant with herbs, and crystal glasses brimming with dark wine.
"Please. Eat," Hector urged. "You've endured enough. You deserve this."
For the first time in days, we allowed ourselves to lower our guard. Hunger won over caution. We filled our plates, the sight and smell impossible to resist.
The first bite flooded my mouth—rich, tender, startlingly perfect. I muttered through a full mouth, "It's… so good."
Hector watched me closely, smiling as though my pleasure was a secret victory. "I am glad you enjoy it. Now… tell me. What can I do for you?"
I set my fork down, steadying myself. "I came here with my friends, Shawn and Liam. We're looking for someone—our friend, Crystal Miller." My voice faltered as I described her features, her name carrying a weight that pressed heavily against the table between us.
"I know where she is," he whispered, eyes glittering unnaturally as he lifted his fork, a mushroom speared on its tip. "I know where all of your friends are… even the one you forgot to mention." His smile widened as the mushroom vanished into his mouth.
My brows knitted together, *The one we forgot?* I searched my memory, frantic, but it slipped through me like water.
"The Dark Valley is a deceitful place," he said, chewing slowly, savoring. "It toys with your memory… with your time… and with your body." The smile never faltered.
"I don't understand." My words trembled.
I bit down, and the fork scraped against my teeth. When I pulled it away, something clung to the meat—a pale tooth, perfectly whole. My tooth. I dropped it, horrified, and felt the hollow in my mouth.
He chuckled softly. "Do not worry. I can fix that."
His hand hovered in front of my lips, and warmth surged into my jaw. Within seconds, a new tooth pressed into place, smooth and flawless.
My stomach turned. "Why did that happen?" I whispered, terrified now of swallowing another bite. I pushed back from the table, begging, "Please—just help me find my friends. I'll go back the same way I came. I swear."
"Of course," he purred, pointing casually toward the far side of the room. "They're waiting… in there."
I hurried toward the door he indicated, heart hammering. He followed, his shadow spilling long across the floor. My hand closed around the knob, cold as ice, and I pushed it open.
The air inside was damp and heavy. A narrow passage stretched before me, walls pressed close, lit only by a faint strip of light from somewhere unseen. On both sides, massive glass tanks rose from floor to ceiling, filled to the brim with murky water.
Shapes crouched inside.
My friends.