Marcus hit the ground hard—his shoulder slammed against something jagged and unyielding, and a sharp jolt of pain rippled through his side. He groaned, his voice echoing briefly before being swallowed by the dense, suffocating dark that surrounded him like a burial shroud.
"Shit… dammit—what the hell…" he hissed, spitting dust from his mouth as he sat up, clutching his side. His fingers instinctively found the handle of his axe, still strapped across his back, and he gripped it tight, drawing it free with a metallic rasp that was far too loud in the silence.
Darkness. Thick, oppressive, absolute.
He couldn't see a damn thing. No flicker of light, no outline of walls, not even his own hand in front of his face.
"Hello?" he called out, voice sharp, hopeful, desperate. "Sophia? Liam? Anyone?!"
No answer.
Only his breathing and the distant, spine-chilling sound of something… not human.
