The pulse grew stronger with every step.
Not louder—never louder—but closer, like a second heartbeat trying to sync with our own. The tunnel widened into a domed passage, its ceiling lost in shadow, its walls carved so densely that bare stone no longer existed. Symbols overlapped symbols, prayers etched over older prayers, layers of devotion piled atop one another until meaning blurred into obsession.
I slowed without realizing it.
Not because I was afraid.
Because, suddenly, I couldn't quite remember why we were here.
The thought slipped sideways in my mind, like a word on the tip of my tongue that refused to surface. I knew this place mattered. I knew we were supposed to be doing something important.
But the what felt… distant.
Theo stopped walking. "Hey," he said, squinting down the tunnel. "Did we already check this section?"
Mira turned to him sharply. "What do you mean?"
"I mean—" He frowned, scratching his jaw. "Didn't we come through here earlier? Feels familiar."
My stomach tightened.
[Ah. There it is,] Aetherion murmured.
[Goal erosion. Very effective.]
'Theo,' I thought desperately, trying to latch onto the mission like an anchor. Core. Anomaly. City center. Pale Shore.
I opened my mouth to speak—
—and Mira suddenly turned around.
"That's enough for me," she said casually, already retracing her steps. "I need air."
Theo blinked. "What? We just got here."
"I know," she replied, tone oddly relaxed. "Which means we can come back later. I forgot my lighter anyway. Can't think straight without a smoke."
"Mira," I said slowly, forcing my legs to move, "you quit smoking after the Diner Anomaly."
She paused.
Just for a fraction of a second.
Then she waved a hand dismissively. "Yeah, well. Maybe I want to start again."
The pulse thrummed harder.
The carvings nearest us shifted again—not visibly, but perceptually. Figures in the stone turned their heads toward Mira's retreating back. Their mouths stretched wider, carved smiles too deep to be accidental.
[It's not commanding,] Aetherion observed.
[It's suggesting. Planting impulses, then stepping aside. Very polite, as anomalies go.]
"Mira," I called, louder now. "This isn't you."
She didn't stop.
Theo rubbed his temples. "Guys… I think I left my phone upstairs."
"In an underground tunnel," I snapped.
"Yeah, well—" He hesitated, eyes unfocused. "I need it. For… something."
I stepped between them and the way back, heart hammering. "No. Nobody's leaving. Not yet."
For a moment, both of them just stared at me.
Then Mira laughed softly. "You're being dramatic."
The tunnel breathed.
Cold air rushed past us, carrying whispers again—closer now, clearer. Not words, but intent. Relief. Safety. Permission to stop struggling.
Permission to let go.
My knees weakened.
[If it helps,] Aetherion said gently,
[This is where most people choose to rest.]
'And what if I don't?'
[Then you remind them why they came.]
I clenched my fists, grounding myself in sensation—the ache in my shoulders, the scrape of stone dust under my boots, the weight of my badge against my chest. I forced the thought into existence, sharp and deliberate.
We are here to find the core.
We are here because people disappeared.
We are not done.
"Theo, Mira," I said firmly. "The church. Scamming merchant and missing agent. Does that ring a bell?"
Both of them froze.
Theo sucked in a sharp breath, like someone breaking the surface of water. "Oh—oh, that's... right. Sorry, I don't know what got into me."
'So a memorable event snapped them out of it?'
Mira turned slowly, confusion flickering across her face before hardening into focus. "…okay what the hell is going on?"
The pulse stuttered.
The tunnel seemed to recoil, just a little.
[Well done,] Aetherion said, faintly impressed.
[Emotional anchors. Classic countermeasure.]
We regrouped, standing closer now, shoulders nearly touching. None of us spoke for a moment.
Then Mira exhaled shakily. "Next time I say I need a smoke, slap me."
"Deal," Theo muttered.
We pressed on.
Deeper still, toward the source of the heartbeat—toward whatever had decided it knew us well enough to rewrite our intentions.
And whatever waited ahead was already trying again.
The tunnel narrowed again, forcing us into single file.
I took point—not because I was brave, but because I didn't trust myself behind anyone. The carvings grew more frantic the deeper we went. Where the upper passages had been methodical, almost reverent, this section felt desperate. Symbols overlapped so tightly they became scars rather than scripture. Some prayers were scratched out, replaced by newer ones etched deeper, harder, like whoever had carved them was afraid the stone might forget.
The pulse was constant now.
Not rhythmic anymore.
Impatient.
Theo muttered behind me, "I don't like how it feels like it knows we're here."
"That's because it does," Mira replied quietly. "Or at least… it thinks it does."
I slowed again—and this time, I knew why.
Ahead, the tunnel split into three paths.
All identical.
Same width. Same slope. Same carvings spiraling inward like a suggestion rather than a direction.
"Great," Theo said. "Classic."
I stared at the split, trying to reason through it. Left, right, center. No airflow difference. No temperature shift. No obvious markers.
Yet my eyes kept drifting to the center path.
It felt… right.
Comfortable.
[Ah, the illusion of inevitability,] Aetherion mused.
[When all choices exist, guide them toward the one you prefer. Elegant.]
'So the middle one is bad.'
[Or it wants you to think that.]
I closed my eyes briefly, steadying my breath. When I opened them—
—the carvings had changed.
Not physically. I knew that. But suddenly the symbols meant something. I couldn't translate them, yet understanding pressed into my skull anyway. The tunnel walls whispered reassurance.
You've gone far enough.
Others will finish it.
You've done well.
Theo sighed in relief. "You know… maybe we should mark this and head back. Let Silva handle the rest."
Mira nodded slowly. "Yeah. We've confirmed something's here. That's already a win."
My heart skipped.
"That's not what you said five minutes ago," I said sharply.
Theo blinked. "Didn't I?"
"No," I snapped. "You said you wanted to punch whatever built this place."
He frowned, visibly struggling. "I… did?"
The pulse surged.
The center tunnel darkened—not in shadow, but in focus. Like the world was gently narrowing around it, trimming away alternatives.
[It's reframing success,] Aetherion said.
[Convincing you that stopping now is logical. Efficient. Sensible.]
'And if we listen?'
[Then you leave. And the anomaly continues undisturbed. Very bad for your employment record.]
I stepped back, forcing myself to look at all three paths at once, even though it made my head ache.
"Mira," I said quietly. "What was the first thing Silva drilled into us?"
She hesitated.
Then her jaw clenched. "Never assume confirmation equals completion."
Theo sucked in a breath, like he'd been slapped. "Right. Yeah. Okay—wow, that was bad."
The tunnel responded.
The whispers sharpened, losing patience.
This time, they weren't comforting.
They were accusatory.
Why persist?
Why dig deeper?
You will only regret it.
My vision blurred.
For a terrifying second, I saw home instead of stone. A quiet room. A chair. Rest.
My legs shifted unconsciously toward the center path.
[Careful,] Aetherion warned, sharper now.
[It's offering you desire instead of fear. That's more dangerous.]
'Then help me.'
There was a pause.
[Very well.]
The pulse… hiccupped.
Just slightly.
Enough for me to plant my feet and speak.
"We don't split," I said firmly. "And we don't turn back. We choose a path together—and we choose the one that feels wrong."
Mira exhaled slowly. "Left."
Theo nodded immediately. "Left."
The left tunnel felt colder the instant we committed. The carvings along its entrance were jagged, unfinished—less reverent, more furious. As we stepped into it, the pressure in my head intensified, like the anomaly resented being denied its preferred outcome.
The whispers didn't stop.
But now they were distant.
Annoyed.
[Good choice,] Aetherion said, satisfaction threading his voice.
[If it's trying this hard to redirect you, you're close.]
The tunnel sloped downward.
And for the first time since entering, the pulse ahead of us wasn't just felt—
—it was heard.
A low, wet thrum echoing through the stone.
Waiting.