Eron couldn't run anymore. His legs gave out and he stumbled, almost falling before he caught himself against the cold wall. The stone scraped his palm, but he barely felt it. His whole body was shaking. The tunnel stretched ahead, narrow and endless, and his flashlight beam couldn't reach the end.
"How far does this go?" he muttered, his voice rough and breathless. Each word broke between gasps. "Why did I even come here..." He pressed a hand against his knee, trying to steady himself. His legs trembled beneath him. "I should've turned back when I had the chance."
He leaned against the wall and slid down to the wet ground. His backpack hit the stone with a dull thud. His breathing was rough and uneven as he tried to catch his breath. "Just... just a second," he whispered, closing his eyes.
When he opened them again, something was different. The cave wasn't dark anymore.
A faint light glowed along the walls. At first, he thought the carvings were glowing again, but the light was coming from the moss. Thin crystalline patches grew along the cracks in the stone wall, spreading like delicate veins across the surface. Each strand shone with a soft blue-green hue that seemed almost alive. The glow pulsed. Bright, then dim, like starlight flickering through a clouded sky. When one patch faded, another lit up nearby and carried the light along the tunnel in soft, rhythmic waves. The patterns shifted and flowed, never the same twice. The whole place felt alive, breathing with quiet light.
Eron pushed himself to his feet, exhaustion forgotten as he stared in amazement. The glowing moss covered the cave walls and ceiling like a living tapestry, bathing the dark stone in gentle illumination. Water droplets clung to some of the strands and refracted the light into tiny prisms. For a moment, it felt like standing beneath a starry sky, with the moss shining like countless tiny stars scattered above him.
"Glowing moss?" he whispered, his eyes wide with wonder. "I've never seen anything like this." He stepped closer to one of the glowing patches, drawn by curiosity. Up close, the moss looked even more delicate. Thin strands woven together like threads of glass, fragile and intricate. The light didn't just sit on the surface. It flowed through each strand in a steady, pulsing rhythm, like tiny rivers of luminescence. When he held his hand near it, a faint vibration brushed against his skin. Not quite a sound, but a sensation. Like the moss was softly humming a tune only his nerves could hear.
He pulled his hand back, suddenly unsure. The glow didn't change. The pulsing continued, steady and calm. But something about it felt wrong. Too perfect. Too deliberate. Still, curiosity pushed harder than caution. He reached into his backpack and pulled out a small glass bottle, one he'd packed for water samples on his surveys. Using his pocket knife, he carefully scraped some of the moss from the wall. It came away like wet silk, cool and slippery between his fingers. Even separated from the stone, it continued to glow and pulsed faintly in his palm.
He guided it into the bottle and sealed the lid tight, then held it up to examine. The moss pressed against the glass, still glowing. The light pulsed through the transparent walls and cast faint shadows across his fingers. "Still glowing," he whispered, a mix of awe and unease creeping into his voice. He slipped the bottle carefully back into his pack. The glow shone faintly through the fabric, a soft blue-green radiance that refused to die.
Then he heard something. Footsteps.
At first, he thought it was just an echo of his own movement. But he hadn't moved. He stood perfectly still, barely breathing. The sound came again. Heavier this time. Slow. Steady. Deliberate. Each step echoed through the tunnel with a measured rhythm, perfectly in sync with the faint pulse of the glowing moss. Like whoever was approaching moved in time with the cave itself. Eron's body tensed and his hand gripped the flashlight tighter, knuckles going white. The footsteps were too even. Too calm. They knew exactly where they were going.
From the far end of the glowing tunnel, a figure emerged from the shadows. It was tall, nearly seven feet. Draped in layered robes of deep black and shimmering gold. The fabric moved like liquid shadow, flowing with each step. Gold sigils traced the edges in intricate patterns that seemed to shift and rearrange themselves when the light caught them at different angles. The robes hung heavy, weighted with age and purpose. On the figure's head rested a wide, curved hat, its brim broad and ornate. The edges glinted faintly with metallic runes etched into the surface, symbols Eron didn't recognize but felt he should fear.
But it was the mask that froze him in place. A lion's face, carved from pale gold and white metal. The craftsmanship was extraordinary. Every detail sharp and deliberate. Fine filigree traced the edges of the mane, curling and spiraling in intricate patterns. The surface gleamed in the moss-light, smooth and flawless. But the eyes were hollow. Deep, empty sockets that should have held nothing. Yet when Eron looked into them, it felt like staring into a distant universe. Vast, endless, and utterly immersive. Something ancient moved behind that emptiness. Something watching.
In one hand, the figure held a long staff, taller than the figure itself. The wood was dark and polished, carved with spiraling grooves that ran its entire length. At the top, it curved elegantly like a shepherd's crook. Hanging from the curved end was a lantern, suspended by a thin chain. It glowed softly, the light inside flickering with an unnatural brightness. The glow was too intense to see through clearly, but something faint moved within it. Shapes. Shadows. Things that shouldn't exist inside a simple lantern.
The figure stopped. The tunnel went completely silent. Every flicker of blue-green light along the walls seemed to bend toward the figure, as if the glowing moss itself recognized its presence. The air grew heavier. Thicker. Like the cave was holding its breath.
"You are not allowed here," the figure said. The voice didn't echo. It resonated. The sound rippled outward through the cave and pressed into Eron's mind like a physical force. It was cold. Heavy. Not a sound heard through his ears, but one felt deep inside his skull. Like the cave itself had spoken directly into his thoughts. "No human should enter the Time Tunnel without permission."
Eron froze. His mind screamed at him to run, to move, to do something. But his body refused. His legs locked in place. His chest tightened, each breath shallow and forced. The figure's presence weighed down on him like an invisible hand pressing against his ribs. Heavy. Suffocating. The lantern's light flickered in rhythm with his own heartbeat and pulsed faster and faster until he couldn't tell which beat was his and which belonged to the light.
The figure tilted its head slightly, the lion mask catching the glow. "That troublesome girl," it murmured, the tone weary rather than angry. "She opened another gate." Then the hollow eyes turned directly toward Eron. "Do you understand where you are, human? Once you step into the Time Tunnel, you can never go back."
The moss along the walls flared brighter with every word and sent ripples of light cascading across the stone. The tunnel fell silent again. The air grew so heavy Eron could barely pull it into his lungs. Even the cave seemed to be waiting for what came next. "When the tunnel closes, everything changes." The figure's voice was calm. Patient. Like explaining a simple fact. "The way you came in? Erased. A new entrance is chosen somewhere else, far from here. And the old path disappears completely. As if it never existed."
The lantern flickered once, then steadied. Its light spread outward in slow waves and illuminated the tunnel in ghostly white. "You have crossed a line that only I, the Warden, and the chosen of the Tunnel are permitted to cross. Time does not forgive trespassers."
Eron's throat went dry. He looked up at the glowing moss covering the ceiling, then back at the Warden. His backpack felt suddenly heavier where the glass bottle pressed against it. A stolen piece of this place's strange, living light. "Are you saying I can't go home?" His voice cracked, rough from fear and exhaustion. "That this tunnel erased my way back?"
It was too much to process. The strange symbols carved into stone. The endless tunnel that shouldn't exist. The glowing moss that pulsed like something alive. And now this masked figure, this Warden, telling him he was trapped inside something called a Time Tunnel. "No." He shook his head, denial rising in his chest. "That can't be right. There has to be a way back. There's always a way back." His words sounded weak. Hollow. Even as he spoke them, he knew they weren't true.
The Warden did not move. Did not respond. The lantern kept pulsing, steady and relentless, like a heartbeat that would never stop. It simply watched him through those empty, hollow eyes. Eron stood there in the terrible silence. His legs felt weak beneath him. His hands trembled at his sides, fingers twitching uselessly. He was beginning to understand.
Everything he thought he knew about the world, about reality itself, had just shattered. The cave had swallowed him whole and pulled him into something far beyond his comprehension. And it might never let him go.