They ran blindly, torchlight dancing off damp stone and broken ruins. The tunnel twisted beneath their feet, a serpent's spine, winding deeper into the forgotten underworld. The echoes of pursuit—the groaning, the clawing—followed them like shadows that refused to die.
Peter was the first to speak. "Anyone want to stop and ask if this Frank guy is leading us away from danger, or into it?"
"He's glowing," Lucy panted. "People who glow in ancient tombs usually know things."
Frank, up ahead, didn't look back. His pace was fluid, his footsteps silent on the cracked stone. A faint emerald shimmer radiated from his back, casting strange shapes on the walls.
"You're lucky I found you when I did," he called over his shoulder. "The thing that woke up… it wasn't supposed to stir until the next eclipse."
Tom narrowed his eyes. "How do you know all this?"
Frank slowed, then stopped at a circular archway carved with ancient vines and sigils. He raised a hand, and the arch lit up—reacting to him, not the torchlight.
"Because," Frank said, "I was born down here."
The group skidded to a halt behind him. Seven faces stared at him with a mix of disbelief, curiosity, and growing tension.
"You mean you're from Odessyus?" Susan asked.
Frank stepped through the arch. "Not exactly. Odessyus is the surface name. The city below was once called Alkros. It was buried during the Demon War, long before your history books begin."
Jack tilted his head. "You talk like you're way older than us."
Frank's eyes narrowed for a moment, and then he gave a short smile. "Let's just say time moves differently down here. I've seen things you wouldn't believe."
The archway led into a massive chamber. The ceiling rose into darkness, lost in shadow. Stone bridges connected floating platforms of solid light, and below them yawned an endless chasm. On every platform, strange obelisks pulsed with runes, and statues of cloaked figures stood frozen in time.
Marcus spun slowly. "What… is this place?"
Frank stepped onto the nearest bridge. It held beneath his weight, though it shimmered like liquid glass.
"This is the Chamber of Sigils," he said. "It was once a training ground… for those who were chosen."
Kitty's voice was barely above a whisper. "Chosen for what?"
Frank stopped in the center of the first platform, then turned to face them. His voice dropped lower.
"To carry demons."
Silence hit the group like a wave.
Lucy stepped back. "You mean like… the evil kind?"
Frank shook his head. "No. I mean the first kind. The Primordials. They aren't creatures of chaos like you've been taught. They're fragments of ancient power — memory, fire, storm, light, death… and more. And they don't destroy people. They choose them."
Tom folded his arms. "And let me guess — you were chosen?"
Frank looked him in the eye. "Yes. And so were you."
One of the statues across the room groaned. Its hand twitched.
Jack instinctively reached for his torch. "Tell me that wasn't a hallucination."
"It wasn't," Frank replied. "The chamber's reacting to you. Your presence… it's waking the memory stones."
Susan stared up at the obelisks. They were humming now. Words, whispered in forgotten languages, floated through the air like mist.
"You're saying we're hosts," she said slowly. "For demons?"
Frank nodded. "Each of you carries a dormant seed. Not all are active yet. Some won't awaken until you're tested. Others… might break you if you're not ready."
Lucy's voice was quiet. "What about the creature that chased us?"
"That," Frank said darkly, "was a failed host. Someone who was chosen — but lost their mind. Their body became a shell. The demon inside consumed them."
Kitty's hands clenched. "And how do we stop that from happening to us?"
Frank turned toward the central platform. "You learn. You fight. You survive. And you listen. Because whether you want this or not, the Blood Moon has already begun to rise."
High above the chamber, a distant rumble echoed through the stonework.
And one of the seven obelisks began to glow with fierce, crimson light — pulsing in time with Tom's heartbeat.