The silence stretched — heavy, thick, almost alive.
Beneath the stone arches, the green glow of runes cast rippling reflections across the flooded floor. The air reeked of dampness and metal. A thin stream of water slid down the stairs, drop by drop, vanishing into a black pool where something still breathed.
Oratius moved forward without a sound. Chains hung from the ceiling, clinking softly in the unseen breeze.
Before him, the water stirred.
What emerged was not human.
The mass rose slowly — half liquid, half organic. Thin tentacles, slick as serpents, glided along its translucent torso. A vaguely humanoid shape: two arms, a chest, and a face with too many eyes, no symmetry, no expression.
A murmur seeped from its mouthless lips.
— "Oratius. You returned sooner than expected."
The voice had no direction. It vibrated everywhere at once, echoing inside the skull rather than the air. Oratius inclined his head, almost respectful, though his jaw tightened with nerves.
